Did someone spit in my sandwich?

I'm still in Zambia. 

The whine, whine & moan section:

I am in a hotel (or possibly in a country) with a very fickle internet connection. Sometimes, like right now at 8AM, the connection is perfect, and other times getting beyond the Facebook sign in page seems to be too big of a task. Combine this with a hotel room television set the size of my fist and you'll have an inkling of the pain this brings. Argh! Am I supposed to, like, not have any, like, distractions, or what? Like. 

My South African cell phone sim-card doesn't work here. I recently found out that this is because I don't have 'international roaming' in my contract. Hmph - this is just another way for the South African government/MTN to not see me as an adult, not have trust in me, and to supposedly make sure that I am unable to rack up a bill too big to pay. There is a limitation of R600 or something of sort in my contract already, so I fail to see the problem, but whatever. 

I seem to have caught the flu the hubby had. I'm pretty sure I would have kicked it already if I wasn't drinking the house red wine all the time. Sporting a sore throat and a runny nose that miraculously go away at night leaving me free to enjoy the wine, but return with a vengeance in the morning. Well, I guess this one I'll have to pin on my own stupid, borderline alcoholic self. Also, I am aware of the bad decision that having four cups of coffee in the morning instead of herbal tea is, if one is out to beat the flu. Again, all me.

The room service has gotten our order wrong four nights in a row, and we have complained thus possibly angering some of the poor staff (it's not all their fault, the hubby can't pronounce 'vegetable'). Every night then we wait for something while the rest of the food gets cold on the table. And it is not that great to begin with, even when it's hot. 

Yesterday, as I was hanging out at the hotel bar, where the internet seems a little better, and really felt the urgent need for some rooibos-tea, I did not get service for a whole whopping 35 minutes. I ill-advisedly complained, prompting the entire staff to now harangue me with constant good service. However, I'm also plagued by suspicions of them either spitting or possibly wanking off in my sandwich, or my latte. But that stuff only happens in the States, hey?

Everyone keeps calling me ma'am, which is depressing, since I'm only thirty.

I'm too sick and it might be just a tiny bit too cold to hang out by the pool.

There is a through and through Texan at the hotel who considers me one of his compatriots. Ya'll.

 

End of whine, whine & moan. Beginning of the section titled: 

This is a Flippin Awesome Country

Zambia is safe and sunny (I'm told SA has gotten cold since I've been gone). 

The internet at the hotel is included in the room price, and so is breakfast. 

I love, and I mean LOVE, bacon and banana on whole wheat, which they serve at this cool cafe in one of the malls. 

Lattes in this country rock.

I have been able to go everywhere without my cell phone, which for me, coming from the land of Nokia and not really being able to remember a time before cell phones (when I was a kid my dad had a phone the battery of which took up the whole trunk of the car), is a very liberating experience.  

Being sick here with the hubby now taking care of me beats being sick by myself at home. One might argue that had I not come I would not have gotten sick in the first place, but I refuse to go there.

People here call me ma'am instead of sir, which often happens in South Africa. I know I have a haircut, that even my hairdresser calls a 'boy cut' (boycott, ha ha. Too sick to make a proper joke), but I'm still fairly feminine, especially since I got my eyebrows and eyelashes dyed. 

There is a through and through Texan at the hotel who considers me one of his compatriots. His jeans are far too tight and his shirt far too Dallas. Love it! He also has very interesting facial hair.

Sometime last month I found a blog called Zambia Express, written by two Brits living in Lusaka. I wrote to them asking what they thought I should see and do in Lusaka, since Lonely Planet wasn't too big of a help, and the cool expats that they are Jo and Kieron actually went above and beyond and came up with a whole itinerary for a week in Lusaka. How cool! As soon as I feel up to it, I'll be off sightseeing, eating, drinking and partying per instructions. I can be such a charter tourist sometimes. Snicker!

Also, I have actually been writing something besides e-mails (which I don't really do unless we are talking a letter of complaint) and this blog. It's a bit off the wall, and I'm missing an ending, but it's also pretty good. I think. Hurrah!

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.

Playing the hostess

Hurrah! Something different is on the horizon.

A guest is arriving tomorrow, all the way from the, apparently still freezing north. You may remember me mentioning a potential visit before, but as of couple of weeks ago the 'potential' part was discarded, and she is taking off as we speak, to spend a whopping 12 hour lay-over at a bigger European hub, but on her way nonetheless. 

I am seriously excited to show off this wonderful country. Be it my late lack of excitement (or the 'excitement' having been limited to a trim at the hairdressers and a breast ultrasound at the gynecologist's. Fun.), I am brimming with hostess-like grace (or as close to grace as I ever get), anxiously awaiting the maid who was supposed to be here between two hours ago and now (new service, more on it later) and is supposed to iron the guest sheets and wash the still lingering results of a pork rasher cooking extravaganza off of the surfaces. 

This just in: The company called with profuse apologies. The lady hadn't had her ID with her so the guards had not let her in... She must look threatening, since they didn't call me to come and pick her up. Hmph.

I am officially on my tippytoes out of sheer excitement.

What do we have planned then? Lots and lots of stuff, more than enough, all crammed in the two weekends she will be spending with us. From Monday to Thursday she will be living it up in the amazing Cape Town Waterfront per my instructions titled 'If I was a thirsty-for-South-African-wines single girl'. Through this part, I will live (and drink) vicariously.

Naturally we will be taking her on one of my preferred routes: From a Soweto shebeen to the fake skies of Montecasino. This route is a true personal favorite. It lets the guest see the two extremes of South African living, and also sample local beer and lots of other drink, which is always a bonus in my books. Drink will also be sampled on Hatfield square and in it's varying bars and clubs (new for us, but feeling the pressures of entertaining a single person with something besides our lovely faces), as well as in the wilderness of Groenkloof nature reserve. First we'll hike and hopefully spot some creatures, and then we'll open bottles over a nice traditional braai. Yum. Some of my favorite restaurants will also be on the visit list, and their wine lists will certainly be ogled.

For our visitor's second weekend here with us we have a special treat in store, for ourselves as well as for her. We'll be spending two nights in a five star lodge in a nearby big nature reserve, complete with a bath tub overlooking a watering hole, lions and elephants, 2 daily game drives in an open vehicle, delicious meals, and plenty of South African wine (in case this was not obvious already). As odd as it may seem coming from a woman who manages to do nothing all day long, I really need to get away, to have a little vacation and see something else besides the 'Mexican Sand'-colored walls of our house! Isn't it ironic? The flippin' color is actually officially called just that. 

   

I hope our visitor likes it all. 

I hope I like her... Oh man. I haven't seen her in six years and the last time I really talked to her was probably 15 years ago. I do remember liking her a lot when I was 10. Man, oh man. 

Facebook is a wondrous thing. 

 

Some light filing

I, the spoiled-rotten expat wife, have actually been working today (Stop gasping, it could happen!). Only half of the day, and I'm not getting paid, but I still consider my 5 hours in the office proper toil. Today I have been filing like there is no tomorrow, even though there is a tomorrow, since I'm only halfway through the Ds.

The filing in itself is not very exciting, and using the heavy-duty hole punch is most certainly resulting in a pinched nerve somewhere in my back/neck area, but immersing myself in a real South African office environment and observing the dynamics in this office has been a most intriguing exercise. Someone other than myself or the hubby actually made my coffee today. This was a little weird, yet it thoroughly confirmed my suspicion that in an office environment I would definitely have to have a secretary or brave constant melt-downs. I think I'm just too scattered to ever do anything real. Management here I come ;o) 

Still, I'm on a very friendly terms with the bosses - hence my volunteering to help with the time-consuming (as well as life-force depleting) task that is filing - so I can't really get into the mix, but having to use a hole punch instead of your brain certainly leaves your ears and eyes hungry for whatever is happening in the office. Lucky for me, as the big boss also remarked today, "there is always something going on." I really hope though, for his sake, that less will go on and he can take some time off. Stress central.

Without getting into detail (and this blog really is supposed to be about moi, not office gossip), I am starting to realize how much South African culture reminds me of Mexico. Here too modernity co-exists, or even intertwines, with ancient traditions and beliefs. In SA one might encounter a computer savvy sangoma, whereas in Mexico one could hire a lawyer who worships Saint Death. In northern Europe most people consider acupuncture as out of the norm.

I love the Mexican Day of the Dead tradition, perhaps I should schedule a visit to a sangoma as well, just to, you know, find out if anyone's put a curse on me. With WikiWorldBook I can find out if someone googles me, why not this?