Heaven on Earth and other pleasant things

I'm so sad the weekend's over. I haven't laughed like I've laughed this past week in a long time. Hanging out with our guest brought back huge chunks of my childhood (that I've apparently drunk away, or possibly my brain has finally yielded intellectual control to my sizable posterior that is just not up to the responsibilities), and reminded me of why I once considered our guest my best friend ever. I'm truly glad she is back in my life. Standing ovation to that guy who invented Facebook.  

As I write this, our guest is on her way back to Finland, and the hubby is away, possibly until the end of April. I'm by myself, and feeling like I'd give almost anything to be back in Ivory Tree Game Lodge in Pilanesberg Nature Reserve, from now on referred to as Heaven on Earth, or simply heaven, as that is where I intend to go when I die, and hopefully many times before that. 

Being the snob that ya'll know and tolerate, I've visited quite a few five star establishments, usually liked them, or even loved them, but none of my previous five star experiences (not referring to anything dirty so go ahead and stop giggling) have ever come close to the bliss that was our long weekend away. 

I'd heard good things about Pilanesberg before, but no one we know had ever stayed in the lodge that we chose. i.e. Heaven on Earth. The cost of two nights being a little bit on the expensive side my expectations were high indeed, which usually does not bode well, as I'm an expert at complaining and generally just finding fault with things. Yup, positive is not an adjective many people would use to describe me, apart from the hubby, but we've already explored the depth of his delusions on other occasions. Anyhow, I'm forced to admit that Heaven on Earth actually exceeded my expectations. And that is no easy feat. 

We arrived on Friday just in time for the lovely lunch set in the nice and airy thatched roof dining room. Having most likely started a widespread movement against buffets in my previous life, from the moment I laid eyes on the set up I was expecting to experience some flashbacks, but ended up having to admit that the chicken was tasty and juicy, the couscous delicious, and even the coffee lovely (and delightfully plentiful). As difficult as this is for me to put into writing, the buffet won me over. And the hotel being merrily void of children (bonus!) I couldn't even resort to my sneezing/coughing/sticky-hands-on-the-food argument. Buffet 1, Snobby Finn 0.

After lunch, as we had retired to our respective cottages, and had had plenty of time to utter small shrieks of delight over the huge bathtub, the outdoor shower, the private patio overlooking the park, the luxurious bath products, and the quiet (only interrupted by said shrieks) surroundings, the phone rang. Our ranger Mike introduced himself and wanted to know what we would like to drink on the afternoon game drive. Trying to play normal as well as wondering whether the lions had the same penchant for the liquid as me, and whether they would try to eat me if they smelled the wine habitually coursing through my veins, I did not order wine, that night. I probably entertained some sort of idea about needing to 'stay alert' lest I'd be eaten by a giraffe or something. On the break between the afternoon drive and the night drive, while in a hide in the wild listening to the sounds of the bush, and staring at the clearly visible milky way, I wished I had that glass of wine to toast the perfect moment though. Toasting with water is just not the same.

I, the hubby, and our guest were the only ones on the drive that first night, and as our ranger Mike turned out to be a true fountain of interesting information as well as being the head ranger in the lodge we were blessed with plenty of cool new facts about South African wildlife while it felt like we were the only humans in the bush. We saw kudus, rhinos, hippos, zebras, giraffes, wildebeest, impala, and some tsessebi, alongside plenty of other antelope-type animals, other critters and birds the names of which apparently did not stick in my, albeit at that point not even foggy, brain. As I've said before, observing the animals in their natural surroundings, doing what they do best - being wild (sleeping, and funny enough, farting like mad) - is an experience very different to visiting any zoo. As opposed to the feeling of pity that normally accompanies such a visit, seeing these animals made me feel a surge of healthy respect for, if not slight fear of them instead. And the first day's catch was only one out of the big five.  

For our visitor, who had according to her own words already fallen in love with South Africa, meeting our brown-eyed ranger offered yet more to love about this wonderful country. I don't think this visit will be her last. As my 'crush' days are long gone (luckily, as I seem to have let even basic grooming slip), I'm loving the possibility of vicariously experiencing this long distance crush. I had forgotten how much fun it is to talk about boys, and it used to be my favorite pastime.

After indulging in a bottle of Hamilton Russell Pinot Noir (one of my all time faves) at dinner, the next morning's wake up call at 5:30 in preparation for the 6AM game drive was almost too much. However, after having mine and our guest's cups of coffee's worth of caffeine in my brain, and a warm blanket around me I was ready to see the sun rise over the mountains, while watching the animals either wake up, turn in, or rip a tree from the ground. The drive was amazing. Our surroundings were rife with bird and animal calls, and even as the cold air whipped my face (note to self: It can be cold in Africa, wear a hat), I could definitely see why the Dutch stayed. 

Regardless of the frosty morning, and as so often happens here, as the sun climbed higher and higher the temperature rose exponentially. When we got back from the drive to have breakfast, freshening up in the cottage involved changing into a swimsuit. I had brought Jasper Fforde's 'The Eyre Affair' to read by the pool, but my newly found friendship with our visitor and the pleasure I took in speaking Finnish after such a long time, not to mention the nice bottle of white we consumed, meant that the time sped past and I only read about four pages. Before we knew it it was time for lunch, followed by another game drive. We did manage a dip in the pool, and I am again multiple sunburns richer. Awesome, if potentially skin-cancerous, fun in the sun.   

The evening's drive offered us excitement indeed. After almost crashing into a 6-ton elephant by the name of Half Tusk who did not feel the need to yield to the right, we managed to spot some lions who were after some tasty wildebeest, only to be approached on the other side by a hippo out of water who probably did not understand how close it had gotten to us and quickly fled when our ranger shined the light towards him. Since our guest had a hard time looking away from the ranger's pretty brown eyes, and the hubby was desperately supporting the camera apparatus possibly permanently attached to his face, yours truly was left to shine the light into the bush in search of the hunting lions. Cool as my task was, it should not have been done by the half-blind me, and after the first glimpse of a female running through the grass, and a male (or really only its mane) moving away from us, the lions eluded us. Still, officially I have seen a real live lion. I can tell you that even just the glimpse of the mane, or something moving through the grass at a wild speed really truly demands your respect, as does seeing an elephant 'flex his muscles' in front of a tiny Toyota Yaris whose driver is not backing up quickly enough for him. Points to wild SA.  

The next morning, after the last game drive, and after our guest had contemplated several extreme ideas - from chaining herself to the vanity in her room to quitting her job in Finland on the spot and asking for work at the lodge - we finally left Pilanesberg. I guarantee you, not only our visitor, but all of us are already busy scheming ways of returning, especially to the lodge, and both I and the hubby are all excited about learning what comes out of this crush.

I feel like a sixteen year old again. 

Sun in Soweto and Giraffes in Groenkloof

I'm finally coming out of my sun and wine induced stupor. I am no longer suffering from headache, but still sporting a pair of practically burnt-raw shoulders. And that's after applying the spf 100 sun block both Saturday and Sunday mornings. Hmm, perhaps my skin color is not genetically suited for this part of the world. Hmm, perhaps there is another skin color that is more suited for this environment. Hmm, I must ponder this question further at some point... 

Yesterday, we shipped our visitor to the wonderful Cape Town, where she is happily convening with the cape penguins after our jam packed weekend. And what a weekend it was!

Since she only arrived on Friday, late morning, we decided to take it easy that day. She had, after all, spent the previous 30 hours traveling a distance that should not take more than 20 hours, all in exchange for some seriously cheap flights. For a moment there, especially since she did not emerge from the plane á la moi with puffy eyes, perma-slobber on the chin, a spotted menu on the front of the shirt, and severely swollen extremities, I truly envied her flight-travel stamina, as well as her more airplane-suitable size (both in my case to be found in the 'remembrances of things past' file) but then I remembered my philosophy is not about wanting to be more patient or smaller but wanting to travel in first class instead. Take that you envy monster! 

Anyhow, on Friday we lunched in one of my favorite restaurants, Cape Town Fish Market, before touring the local sights per her request - Woolworths food market and Pick n Pay. I always thought I was alone in my wish to soak up the local 'atmosphere' in the form of visiting grocery stores, post offices, train stations, doctor's practices, or the dentist's for that matter. I have an aversion to visiting any kind of doctor's if the visit entails more than just your general ogling and pointing (by me), but one of my coolest experiences from Mexico is my trip to a Mexican dentist who told me to ignore the burning smell as it was only the generator for the drill. That's hardcore, and the tooth still holds! I also now have breast-ultrasound experiences from three different continents and have to admit, also based on my talks with other women here and abroad, that in such issues Mexico (and paid for health insurance) rocks. Still, I much prefer visiting grocery stores. 

After getting completely sidetracked there, a couple of words on the night's entertainment: Braai and wine. Good, solid, thoroughly South African choices and fun had by all (we hope) combined with a new taste experience for our visitor - pork rashers on the braai. Didn't go down as well as the wine, but I still feel that scorched fat is an under-appreciated pleasure. However, that could just be me.

Early Saturday morning (far too early was the guest's opinion) we headed out towards Soweto and one very cool backpacker lodge and one even cooler shebeen (this link explains so much better than I ever could). Lebo's Soweto backpacker lodge is always our starting point in Soweto and if I was a tourist in Jozi Lebo's is definitely where I would stay. As on our previous visit we got to meet some cool Sowetans, discuss the upcoming election and the quite frightening possibility of the Zuma presidency, drink the local brew, sorghum beer (turns out we Finns have something similar explaining my not minding this stuff perhaps) from a shared mug, eat burn-your-finger hot vetkoeks, and walk the busy streets of a couple of Soweto neighborhoods while listening to kwaito blaring from all directions, and just enjoy and soak up the atmosphere. Cool stuff and severely burnt shoulders! 

As a fitting contrast to Soweto's wonders we headed out to lunch to Montecasino. After cringing at the fake sunset meets sunrise that is the ceiling of Montecasino, the fake pigeons and cats on the as fake windowsills, the suspicious looking 'laundry' hanging over the wannabe alleys, the painted cracks and ware on the walls, the plastic ducks in the moat/stream, and taking our visitor's or our photo with said details, we decided to lunch outside, in the actual real sunshine, in a place called Metropolis. The food wasn't anything special and some of our guest's health chicken (whatever that is) was actually undercooked, to which the waiter responded with a shrug and weird gestures that could have either meant 'we can cook it more for you' or 'up yours stupid tourist'. We'll never know for sure. However, we tried a wine I'd never had before - chosen purely on being not too cheap and not too expensive - Rijk's Sauvignon Blanc. A lovely new acquaintance. Almost sweet with a pleasant acidic aftertaste (how snooty do I sound). I'll definitely be having more of it in the near future. 

After a much needed nap for our guest, four cups of coffee for the hostess (how old are we), and no rest for the chauffeur a.k.a. the hubby, we headed out to dinner at tried and tested excellent Karoo Cattle and Land. Food was excellent, regardless of some of it being pap, which should not be classified as food but rather as edible wall paper glue. Excellent red was also had from the excellence that is the excellent Karoo wine list. The name of this particular excellence escapes me though, but I can tell you it was excellent. Excellent. And in case you were wondering the experience was excellent. However, before I had a chance to devour half of our guest's excellent malva pudding (thus hopping on the sugar train headed for crazy), the hubby steered us into the direction of Fashion Cafe, as we had promised this type of distraction to our single friend. Not so excellent. This bar is somehow in cahoots with Fashion tv channel, but since the music on their website annoys me too much to look further into this connection, I'll just give you my personal impression of the place. I don't think I'll ever be going back to this particular bar, seeing as I'm at least 10 years too old, don't like my drinks all fruity and pink, my shoes are far too flat and last year, my hair is too short, my hubby too bearded, and my ears too sensitive. Either I'm old and boring, or Fashion Cafe sucks. No need to comment on this specific point, especially if you know me. Excellent, thanks. 

On Sunday morning it was time for some wildlife. We headed out to Groenkloof Nature Reserve, a favorite destination, and this time around I was not left behind, but got within 15 meters of a real live giraffe. A giraffe is a beautiful being, and I only wish my eyelashes came anywhere close to the ones on these creatures. For almost half an hour we hung out with our new friend and his/her spouse or partner, who refused to face us but kept glancing at us over his/her shoulder very nonchalantly. To top off the experience, right before taking our leave we were introduced to a baby giraffe hiding behind a bush. Cool as ever. We also saw quite a few wildebeest and some zebras. The wildebeest were kind of aloof, but the zebras actually posed for us, making all the sweat and sunburns worthwhile. And I'm talking serious burns here. Permanent sun damage. Damn. Still points to SA.

After our hike and hangout with the local inhabitants we were ready for a braai. Many of our friends were there and as usual, whenever wine is drunk, the discussion turned to politics, race, and other such harmless small talk topics. I appreciate people's willingness to discuss, even if I cannot for the life of me understand where they are coming from or ever give any credit to some things they have said. I must admit some of it is taking quite a toll on me and on my love affair with this country. Perhaps I should just stick to easier topics for a while, and give my moral compass a break. Still, I could not have asked for a better immersion for our guest into the institution of the braai, or into the South African tradition of hospitality. Opinions aside, people are just really welcoming, friendly, and nice!     

Our visitor is due back on Thursday night and on Friday we are off to see some more wildlife, have awesome, non-draining discussions over good food and wine, lie by the pool but in the shade and hopefully not burn any more. This time around we are hoping to spot elephants, lions, rhinos, and cheetahs. And as I now sit around recharging my mental as well as physical batteries the snap-happy hubby is acquiring a lens the size of my thigh for his camera. Should make for better photo content on this blog. We'll see.

Maid Chronicles. Part gazillion and six and other random thoughts

The maid agency (and I use this term very loosely) finally got back to me, after I expressly told them I wanted my money back. The nice person that I am (stop laughing!), I had to give them one more chance, and here I am today breaking in a new maid. This one actually does speak English, and lo and behold, so far seems to know the difference between a 'rag', and a 'feather duster', or 'mop' and 'vacuum cleaner'. Better yet, she seems to know what 'upstairs' means, but I don't want to fall in love yet. Things can still go wrong. Ever since Mexico I have been experiencing very bad maid karma, so I'm not counting my eggs just yet. Maybe I should go to a sangoma, to see about that curse.

Just imagine:

"May you be forced to live the rest of your days in relative luxury, but plagued by a maid who throws out half empty tooth paste tubes, washes your shower with your nice towel, harangues you with questions about your seeming barrenness, and uses up all of your sugar."

Wow, what a mean curse. That will totally screw up my life.   

On a happier, and possibly less cursed, note I was reminded today of the lovely time we spent in Cape Town over Christmas by a friend who is planning a visit all the way here to SA from the cold North, also known as the Land of Santa. No, that is not the North Pole for you Americans, or even Greenland for you Danes. I am talking about Finland, the country where all of London flies to every December to gawk at a fat guy in a red suit, whose English is suspiciously good for a true Finn. 

Whoa, where did my patriotism disappear to?

Anyhow, my friend is planning to stay a few days here in Joburg before jetting off to Cape Town, because, to be totally honest, that is where the action is. She'll want to see some giraffes, zebra and if possible a couple of lions and elephants too, but let's face it, she'll LOVE touring the restaurants in the Cape Town Waterfront, and tasting the different South African wines. Not that there aren't good restaurants here in Jozi, but you simply can't beat the coastal experience of CT. Like one of our local friends remarked of Bloemfontein (in Sotho Mangaung), an inland town, and it's 'one horse town' -ishness, she loves Bloemfontein's waterfront, meaning that without the water there really isn't that much to a town in SA. 

South African wonders and sights are definitely in the wild, and missing the towns is usually not a great loss, especially if one has been to such city destinations as New York, Paris, Athens, San Francisco, Taipei, Copenhagen, Rio de Janeiro, Berlin, or Mexico City. Still, nothing beats seeing a wild animal in the actual wild, without bars and nets obscuring the view and without the tiny voice in the back of your mind that is screaming at you about the size of the cage, the condition of the animal's fur, its erratic, caged behavior, and whether it has water or not. Animals in the wild are fierce, and truly demand your respect and awe. Wild is the true pull of Africa. 

Dontcha just looove nature?!?!

I think I just saw a mouse scurry under the house in the back yard behind the kitchen. 

There is a dead something underneath the kitchen door and it just might turn out to be a cockroach.

Yesterday I saw ants coming out of the kitchen tap.

Earlier this month there was a dead bird on the balcony. I made the maid get rid of it.

I have weird itchy bites on me, and I think I've seen something hop on the bed.

Two months ago I bludgeoned a spider to death with my flip flop. The spider was most likely a black widow.

One night there was a mouse on the stairs, inside the house.

A dog followed me home today and 'watered' the downstairs couch. Thank Zeus the thing is rented, and the dog had a couple of numbers on his collar, so he's home already. 

At least the air is clean and it's warm. 

Unlucky wildlife meets the braai

Last night at a braai I tasted some or other bok's liver, and surprisingly it was very good. 

I can't quite remember which bok it was, and Wikipedia is seriously confusing me by introducing me to the non-South African names for all the different kinds of bok rampant in these parts. You don't hear the locals ever mention antelopes, gazelles, impalas, or oryxes. Instead the locals hunt and consume the gemsbok, the rooibok, and the springbok, which is also the national animal and the name and the symbol of the national rugby team. There are also plenty of other kinds of bok, running loose in, and near my hood, but as usual their names elude me. As long as they don't get too close while still breathing, I'm cool with just calling them bok. 

Other than the bok liver I'm also experiencing the beginnings of a possibly very long love affair with the taste of lamb chops on a braai. I never understood how good charred fat could actually be. The same goes for my long forgotten, but recently newly found affection for pork rashers. Starting to sound pretty gross, eh? All in all, I think a side of a shoe would turn out nicely if it was meticulously (as they do here, since we're talking of an art form) seasoned, and braaied to simple perfection on the fire. 

'Hiking' in Groenkloof

Some months ago, while leisurely sitting in someone's backyard enjoying a glass (or two) of wine that same someone (and no one is exactly sure who that was) came up with the idea of all of us going hiking together in the Groenkloof nature reserve, situated not far from the country's capital, Pretoria. Naturally, everyone laughed and laughed and laughed, especially us two - the complete city slickers. Granted my native country could seem to exist as pure county side, but I maintain I was born and bred in a city. Also, our little family's previous address was none other than the biggest city in the world, Mexico City. Furthermore, how was hiking to fit into my wine-fueled and relaxed to the extreme lifestyle? As you can imagine I had more than enough reasons as to why any hiking was completely out of the box: I'm overweight, I drink too much, my knees hurt, I burn in the sun, wildlife freaks me out, etc and some more etc...

But... because you always need to say yes to all invitations if you want to make friends, not to mention to make the most of your expat experience, this morning (a Saturday mind you) we got out of bed at 7AM and were soon on our way towards Groenkloof. The ride from our estate does not take long, so before we knew it we were headed up a trail with giant wildebeest hoof prints going the same way as us. There were also quite a few curious, or perhaps put off (or at least they stared at us a lot) ostriches by the trail. These birds are huge, and when there is no fence between you and them somehow they seem to double in size. Or, I'm just a big baby - something that seemed to be the general consensus amongst the others in our hiking group.

Reaching the top of the first hill we actually came across four wildebeest hanging out only 10 meters into the bush by the trail. After ignoring us for the whole of two seconds they took off in a hurry. These creatures also seemed pretty huge. At that point I was happy I was in a big group. A bunch of guinea fowl followed the wildebeest sighting as did five giraffes from quite a distance. Or,  to put it honestly, others in the group saw the giraffes, I on the other hand apparently need glasses.

The group was pretty excited about the giraffes and hoping to spot some zebras as well, so we decided to make a beeline for the next ridge. Without me being fully aware of what a 'beeline' actually entailed, we soon found ourselves cutting through grass higher than any of us and a murky stream of water at the bottom of the valley. Walking through the grass was pretty cool, I have to admit, as was crossing the water had my sneakers only stayed dry, but at the same time this 'hiking' was getting pretty creepy. I'm glad the park does not have a lion population. 

When we finally made it to the foot of the hill where the giraffes had been, they were of course nowhere to be found. The most athletic guy in our group decided we could climb a straight line up the hill, and catch up to the elusive long necks. At this point, the less enthusiastic hikers (read: all of the ladies) thought it was time for a break and some shade. The group split, the guys and the kids sprinted (I'm totally being nice here) up the hill and would call us if there was anything to see. As we enjoyed some shade no call came and we happily yapped and yapped about books and our book club and the usual, such as what to do with a very nasty looking boil in a 13 year old boy's lip, and how hot is the guy who stars in the movie Australia. You know, the usual ladylike stuff. Finally we decided too much time had passed, we had thoroughly exhausted the interesting boil discussion, and decided to call the guys instead.

The call was answered with a whisper, since they guys were watching seven zebras and five giraffes up close, from about 30 meters away (this however might be a case of the catch getting bigger with every story). My husband was too busy taking pictures to call me and later iterated that 'So and so was going to call you', as did all the other guys, with only the 'so and so' changing from comment to comment. So zero zebras and giraffes for me, lucky we still have two years left in the lovely, if somewhat too wild, South Africa. 

Finally, after tramping on and off the trail for some hours without seeing anything more exciting than running guinea fowl and a yellow butterfly, there was nothing else to do except for head back to the picnic area and start a braai. As I've mentioned before, the braai truly is an institution, and can apparently be attached to any activity (I've so far heard of such oxymorons as church braais and Cricket braais). Again the people were awesome, the discussion was interesting (the guys gave their views on the boil issue), and the food was great. Had there been more wine we would still be in Groenkloof.