Monday, October 24, 2016

The Bubble

Just because I moved nearly 8,000 miles (13,000 km) from home doesn't mean I don't get stuck in my own little bubble sometimes. Poking a sharp object at the walls of your bubble requires constant focus and effort I think, no matter where you live. We all get into routines. We like to eat at the same restaurants over and over, we like to have friends who are similar to us and who think the same things are laugh out loud funny even if we've already laughed about those same things a hundred times before. 

In Joburg, being adventurous carries an extra element of complexity. Because of the crime problem, most of us, expats and non, spend a lot of time looking over our shoulders, staying put in our own neighborhoods and avoiding talking to people who could possibly be dangerous.  And that's the funny thing about moving to Joburg, you're automatically brave for doing it but you can easily end up living in a bubble surrounded by other expats, guards, gates and walls. 

Of course I want to be safe but I don't want to live in a bubble. So I try to take small steps on a regular basis to make sure I'm not getting too comfortable.  

Recently, I stopped to talk with a guy who has set up a "shop" on the side of the road near our house. He sells potted plants and paintings. I think his art was originally created to market the potted plants but it's my theory that over time he became more excited about the art than the plants because although the plants remain more and more paintings appear.

I had been driving by this guy almost daily for a while and wanted to stop and talk to him but there seemed to always be a reason that I couldn't or didn't. Back to safety for a moment, I don't consider stopping to chat with this guy to be putting myself in a dangerous situation as he is set up right along side of a busy road and of course I would only stop during the day, but I do think this is a good example of a situation that some others would avoid. If for no other reason than they might think we should not be encouraging this person to set up a make-shift shop on the side of the road in our nice community. Also, it appeared that he was living on the side of the road in a sort of lean to that he created out of found items. I am sure this is frowned upon by many of his permanent-dwelling neighbors. 

The man's name is Sisepho. He came here from Mozambique. I bought two of his paintings. The paintings are made on a white coated press board, similar to a shelf that you'd find in a closet. I asked him to sign the paintings and he said he didn't have a pen to do so, so I drove the three minutes back to my house, grabbed a sharpie and brought it to him. Even though he said his name is Sisepho he signed the paintings with another name which looks like S larlosmama. He explained why but I really couldn't understand the reason. He also wrote "30" in a few spots which I understood to be his age. 

The first painting I bought was clearly designed to help him sell plants. The second is a large painting of a snake which now proudly sits on the mantle in my living room. It's been about a month since I bought these paintings and I am loving the snake painting more and more everyday. To quote the TV shows on HGTV, this painting really "pops!" I asked Mr. Deep the other night if he didn't just love the snake painting and he replied that no, he really doesn't like it at all. 

The plant painting I bought.
If you know me, you might be surprised to learn that I'd put a painting of a snake in my house because I don't like snakes. But that's the whole point. The snake reminds me to keep getting outside my comfort zone. 
Snake painting. It pops! 

Thursday, October 20, 2016

Fabulous Franschhoek

Last January Mr. Deep and I visited Stellenbosch located in the Western Cape Province. About 37 kilometers to the east of Stellenbosch is another lovely area also known for its wine and beauty called Franschhoek. We were lucky enough to spend a day in Franschhoek recently with family visiting from the U.S.A.

The Franschhoek wine valley was settled by French people who came by way of the Netherlands in the 17th and 18th centuries. These French Huguenots brought to South Africa their love of wine and knack for producing it so many of the vineyards in Franschhoek are very old. The area also boasts lovely Cape Dutch style architecture.

But enough about history and buildings. We came to Franschhoek to taste wine and eat delicious food all while enjoying a views of mountains and vineyards. And that is precisely what we did.

Based on a recommendation from a friend, we chose the Franschhoek Wine Tram as a means to visit wine farms. This seemed like a good idea, as opposed to a private driver and tour, for our large group of seven people. Immediately after I booked I began to worry that maybe it wasn't a good idea. The word tram in itself reminds me of Disney and all I could picture were hoards of tourists (us included) drunkenly cramming onto the trams, pouring out onto the once peaceful wine farms and overwhelming the staff and the tranquility. Most of all I worried that if the tram was crowded and the visits to the wine farms rushed that we wouldn't get to taste enough wine. 

Driving to Franschhoek from Cape Town takes a little more than one hour. As we drove we noticed the area becoming more and more agricultural. Hawkers selling cell phone chargers were now hawkers selling fresh fruit. We drove closer and closer to a huge mountain range while cruising by bright green pastures with horses and cattle on the side of the road. I do remember thinking Stellenbosch was beautiful, but I think Franschhoek is even prettier although ideally if you are in the area you would visit both. 

When we arrived, we were dropped off by our driver at the Wine Tram ticket booth. We checked in and talked with a very helpful staff member who gave us all the information we needed for our trip. I had chosen the 11:30 a.m. departure on the red route (there are numerous routes of all different colors so you could go on the wine tram more than once and visit some new wine farms each time.) At the tram office the staff helped us to select which farms to stop at based on our wine preferences. People who prefer white wine may be directed to visit different farms then those who prefer red. Since we were a large group of varying tastes I asked that we be directed to the prettiest stops as well as the most intimate so that we could meet a few winemakers. 

I had strategically selected the red route at the time of booking because it contained the greatest number of wine farms of all the routes. I may not be good at math but I can count when it counts. When we checked in we learned we'd only have time to stop at five of the seven wineries on our route.  This was actually reduced to only four stops because one of the stops involved staying longer and eating lunch. And by the way eating lunch is key if you want to successfully survive a day of wine tasting. The price of the tram (R220 per person) included a free tasting at one farm and a free welcome glass of wine at another. All of the rest of the tastings we had to pay for but they were quite inexpensive (about R60 per person.)

Once we got on board all of my fears quickly disappeared. First, the tram is not that large and maybe holds 30 people or so at one time. So my concerns about hundreds of people crowding into a little tasting room did not materialize. Second, and most important, the wine tram is extremely well organized. The host stands up front with a microphone clearly announces the time guests will be picked up (it's always a minimum of an hour that you can stay at any one farm.) He also clearly announced each stop. Guests can skip farms that don't interest them or that they need to skip due to lack of time. Finally, the tram waits for no man or woman. If you aren't waiting at the bus stop at the right time the tram will leave you and you will be stuck at that farm for another hour. I love things that run on time and don't deviate from the planned schedule because why should people who are late slow things down for everyone else? As the group leader, using the tram made for a more relaxing day for me as I was not spending my time trying to convince our group it was time to move on to the next farm. They all knew the schedule and that we had to stick to it. 

The first stop was Chamonix. We sat outside a beautiful white Dutch Cape style building and were immediately greeted and given a tasting menu. We tasted three whites and two reds. I thought their wine was very good except for the chardonnay which was apparently award winning - even unoaked I don't like it. 

Dieu Donne', our second stop, wins the prize of the day for the most beautiful location. It is set high up on a mountain with amazing 360 degree views. We stayed for two hours and enjoyed a fine lunch at ROCA overlooking the vineyards while sipping some chilled white wine. 
The view at Dieu Donne'

Next, we moved onto Eikehof, which was my favorite stop. We had our tasting only steps away from rows of grapes on the vine and mountains in the background. We  were served by the husband and wife team who own the farm. The wife explained that farming these days is very difficult financially and so being part of the wine tram tour really helps to get people to the farm to give their wine exposure.

Eikehof Wine Farm

For the final part of the tour we got off the tram and onto a train. The train tracks were built in 1904 and used until the 1990's. The tracks then went unused for years until the wine train began in 2012. We took the train to Rickety Bridge for our final tasting. 

An old Ford truck at Eikehof

Mr. Deep getting creative late in the tour with his wine tram sticker placement.

It was a perfect day. We had great weather, a wonderful lunch, met some nice people, tasted lots of wine and enjoyed a memorable time with our family. Mr. Deep and I definitely want to return to Franschhoek again either with friends or by ourselves for a weekend. 

Thursday, October 6, 2016

I Don't Trail

There is a phrase you hear a lot in expat life and that is trailing spouse. The trailing spouse is the person who followed the person whose job required him or her to move to a new place. I am a trailing spouse because we came here for Mr. Deep's job. 

But I don't feel like a trailer. 

I know that some people struggle with their role as a trailing spouse. Hopefully this post doesn't make it sound like I am minimizing their challenges. I subscribe to the walk a mile (or a kilometre) in my shoes mentality. I have no way to know what circumstances led other people to end up trailing or whether or not they wanted to trail in the first place. I only know my situation and I will describe it so you can understand it. There are circumstances which have led to my acceptance and love for my role as the spouse who came here with someone who had a job. 

First, I was part of the decision. Not just the decision to move to South Africa but the decision made years and years ago that we would be mobile and willing to move for a job opportunity. Mr. Deep and I knew that the company he worked for in the U.S.A. was global and that one of the best ways to move up the ladder was to accept an overseas assignment. Mr. Deep was asked on several occasions if he would be open to moving to another country. We discussed it and for both of us our answer was a resounding yes. 

A few relocation opportunities came Mr. Deep's way over the years but nothing ever came to fruition. Meanwhile, I was working. I had a good job. I was well respected, I liked the organization I worked for. I made good money. But I also felt trapped. I had worked for the same company for nearly 20 years. I was very busy with work, business travel and such and I felt like my life was passing me by. I was constantly in a rush at both work and at home. I thought about other types of work that I could do but I was too scared to do something that would cause me to earn less money.  I saw no way out other than having someone take me away and give me an excuse to start over. And then Mr. Deep told me he had a job opportunity in South Africa.

I have written before about that conversation but what I may have left out is that I told Mr. Deep (and I'm pretty sure my teeth were gritted at the time and I may have even poked him repeatedly in the chest with my index finger while speaking) "whatever you need to do to make this happen, you do it. I want to move to South Africa." I realize this makes me sound like a combination of Claire Underwood and Veruca Salt. But the way I saw it, Mr. Deep was giving me the chance to have a whole new life and I desperately wanted it. 

It wasn't about not wanting to work anymore because at the time of this conversation I didn't even know that wouldn't be able to work in South Africa. But I was attracted to the idea of living somewhere else, filling my days in new ways, meeting new people, trying new food and living in a different house. I wanted to push the reset button on my life.

The other thing that makes my situation different from others is that we don't have any kids. And let's all be honest: EVERYTHING in life is easier when you don't have kids. Except when you're old and you die and no one notices for days. But that's a blog post for another time. In our new life in South Africa I don't have to worry about whether any kids are happy or adjusting and I don't have to worry about finding schools and all of that. Of course I care about Mr. Deep's happiness but I don't care about it any more or any less than I ever have no matter where we have lived. It's the same as it ever was. And I believe Mr. Deep is pretty happy. 

Sure, I miss earning my own money. No wait, I miss having my own money, I don't necessarily miss the part where you have to go and earn it.  But Mr. Deep has never once made me feel like a lesser part of our relationship. He makes no comments when I spend money, he doesn't come home from work and ask in a sarcastic manner what I did all day. He doesn't roll his eyes when he comes home and I am in my grubby gym clothes sporting obviously newly polished nails. You might think well good he shouldn't act in a disparaging manner but I can't say that I would be so kind to the non-worker. In fact I know I would not be. There was a point in our lives when Mr. Deep didn't work and I did spend plenty of time eye rolling and worse.

Yes, there are things that I gave up in order to move here. We both did. I was the one who gave up my job but we both have friends and family who we miss seeing and spending time with. But as the "spouse who came along for the ride" I have gained so much more than I have lost. Having said all this when Mr. Deep tells me it is time to move away from here he will have to drag me kicking and screaming. 

"Maybe it's true that we don't know what we have until we lose it. But it's also true that we don't know what we're missing until we find it." - unknown.

Thursday, September 29, 2016

I've Got Issues

When I first began writing this blog I planned to write about two main topics, our new life in South Africa and my dramatically changed life due to no longer working.

Since then pretty much every post has been about our lives and experiences in South Africa. I only mention my not working here and there. There's a reason for this. It's amazing not to work. Sorry but it's true. I have drafted many posts that remain unpublished about my non working life and it always comes out sounding like bragging. It would be like if I wrote a post about how I never have to clean my own house. No one wants to hear it. People do not want to sit in a cubicle at work and read a blog post about how great it is not to be working. So I have avoided the topic.

But now that I've broached the subject, I want to focus on something that I've learned about myself during this time of not working. When I worked, as outlined in this post, I blamed most of my problems in life on my job. If I was short with my husband it was because I was stressed out at work, if I didn't make it to the gym it's because I was too busy at work, if I declined a social invitation it was because I was too tired from work. You get the idea.

Now there is no work but yet most of my problems are still with me  (except my hair has grown back so that's a good thing.) Yes work exacerbated certain traits or behaviors but my issues remain.  One of the things that I have realized about myself is that I am often annoyed. I'm not angry - there is a difference. But I am easily annoyed.

In the draft version of this post I listed an entire paragraph of things that annoy me. But when Mr. Deep, my editor, read it he said it sounded like venting. So I will only list five things that annoy me here. If you wish to have the full and original list just let me know and I will send to you. 

I'm annoyed when people are late. I'm annoyed when I'm late. I'm annoyed by dogs that bark constantly. I'm annoyed when Mr. Deep cooks food and uses way more plates, pots, pans and utensils than necessary and then leaves all of the above for me to clean up. And, I'm annoyed by people who are rude to waitstaff. 

Living in South Africa makes me more aware of my annoyance problem as I am aware that most of the things that I let annoy me are ridiculous. While I am muttering under my breath about how stupid I think those baby on board signs that people hang on their car windows are, other people, who have real problems, such as no money and no food seem to be genuinely not annoyed and jolly. How do they do it? 

I asked Charles about it because I know, as a car guard, people are rude to him all the time. And if someone is rude to me I find it (you guessed it) annoying. He said that rudeness doesn't bother him. I pushed him on it because how can it not be annoying (and painful) when people treat you poorly and talk down to you when you are just trying to eek out a living and survive? He told me that once he said good morning to a guy and the man replied "F%&# you." I'm sorry what? I would be so annoyed. No, I'd be furious. I would probably reply "F%&# you too." As an aside I would make a horrible car guard. Charles said when people are rude to him he says, "thank you God. I see you." What does that even mean? How does that work? I have a lot to learn.

Tuesday, September 20, 2016


I am going to start this post off by reminding you, just in case you've forgotten, that I know nothing about children. All that I do know comes from two sources. First, once I was a child (although admittedly that was a very long time ago.) Second, I have been volunteering at the Diepsloot Combined School and working with students in grades three and four for over a year. 

Recently, I went over to Gift's house to spend a few hours with Gift and Beatrice. Gift's nephew (his brother's son), a five year old boy named Wayne, was there.  

I couldn't help but notice a few things about Wayne and the situation that were so different than other families with children that I have visited and observed. 

First, Wayne doesn't have any toys. There was a rubber ball outside that I assume is his but that is all.

Second, Wayne was not the center of attention. The adults talked and did their thing and Wayne was just....well he was just there. He was not neglected. He was not running out into traffic or putting a plastic bag over his head but no one really talked to him, played with him or was too concerned with him. When Beatrice made him a snack he went a got a small chair (so he may not have toys but he does have his own small chair) and sat quietly at the table and ate.  When she walked to the shop he went along with her. When we went outside, he came with us. 

Third, Wayne did not whine, complain, cry or fuss. He was perfectly behaved. 

Fourth, Wayne was put to work. When the adults drank tea, each of them, one by one as they finished, summoned Wayne to collect the empty mug and put it in the sink. And he did it.

Like so many things that I see in South Africa, I really don't know what to make of this. It was so different than my other experiences of being around people and their children. Usually, children are constantly interrupting adults who are trying to have an adult conversation. Adults will say things to children like, "I am talking to Mrs. Deep right now Myrtle, please wait a moment and then I'll get you a sippy cup of juice." And then the mother will turn back to the other adult and say, "I'm sorry about how Myrtle is acting. She missed her nap today." 

Often when you are visiting a home with children in it, a child will come up to you and push a toy into your face in an effort to get you to play. There is also normally some amount of crying, whining or even a full on melt down. And usually when you are in a house where kids live, toys are strewn about everywhere. 

On the one hand my reaction to Wayne's situations is this. Oh my God this child has no toys. Isn't play an important part of child development? Won't he be behind with his motor and other skills when he gets to school? Is his childhood completely joyless? 

But then there is a part of me that I thinks this. Many kids have tons of toys. They have so many toys that they don't even know what they have. Are kids with toys smarter, happier, better adjusted or on a path to a brighter future? Did Albert Einstein have any toys as a kid? Did Nelson Mandela? I read Long Walk to Freedom and I don't recall toys being mentioned. Most of our grandparents and great grandparents probably had very few if any toys. Many kids today, in my opinion, are spending their childhoods being entertained every minute either by someone or something. Is that really the best way to grow up?  

Of course it important for children (and adults) to know that they are loved and it is important that they are cared for properly. But how much attention is the right amount?  Is it better to be showered with attention as a young person? Or, do you end up feeling less entitled and less frustrated by what life throws at you if you grow up the way that Wayne is? Isn't one of the hardest parts of being an adult that people rarely fuss over you? Adults don't spend time telling other adults how smart, cute or funny they are. Yes, at work someone may say, "great job in the meeting today." Or one adult may say to another, "have you been working out? Your butt is looking very firm and high." But accolades and adoration are rare once you become an adult. 

I don't know the answers to these questions. And I try hard not to judge. I don't judge the parents who smother their children with attention, toys and bounce houses (that's not true I draw the line at bounce houses but only because I am repeatedly traumatized by their very existence.) And I don't judge Wayne's family either. But last week I did take Beatrice and Wayne to to the zoo just in case joy and play are an essential part of childhood. 

Wayne at the zoo. And while he doesn't look particularly thrilled in this photo, trust me, he had fun. 

Sunday, September 18, 2016

The Last of Zambia

This will be my last post about our recent trip to Botswana and Zambia. I had so many photos and stories and it took me a while to sort through it all. Hopefully I didn't bore you. Now, it's just a few more memories and some photos that I never shared before I leave this topic.

On our last morning in Zambia, Mr. Deep tried again to catch a tiger fish. He was not successful, but the guide he was with did catch one so at least I can share a photo with you.

Mr. Deep did have some great last wildlife sightings while he was out for that final fishing trip.

On our last night in Zambia during our final boat ride on the Zambezi, there was a special surprise. When we rounded a bend at sunset there was a bar set up (always a happy surprise to see) and the staff were all there to welcome us and offer us a happy hour by sunset. It was so pretty and I took a ton of photos of the same scene but played around with different camera settings. 

And here is one last photo from Zambia. The Birdman and me looking happy and relaxed. Until next time Zambia. 

Tuesday, September 13, 2016

Oh The Stories We Could Tell

"Talking to myself again wondering if this traveling is good. Is there something better doing we'd be doing if we could? But oh the stories we could tell."
 - Everly Brothers

These are the song lyrics I chose to quote in my high school yearbook. They appear under my photo. At the time, I credited the lyrics to Tom Petty because I had no idea that he didn't write the song. But in fairness to me I graduated high school before the Internet was invented so how was I supposed to know it was actually the Everly Brothers?

While we were in Zambia we had the unique opportunity to hear two tall tales. In the evening, after the afternoon activity and before dinner, there was a campfire at each of the Wilderness Safari Camps. After a few visits to the campfire, Mr. Deep and I noticed that we seemed to be the only guests enjoying it. This was understandable when we were the only guests at Jacana but a little strange when we arrived at Toka Leya. Maybe none of the other guests knew there was a campfire? Or maybe they just didn't care? But at Toka Leyo Mr. Deep and I were the lone regulars at the campfire or, as it's referred to when you are out in the African wilderness, bush TV.

On our second to last night at Toka Leya, Mr. Deep and I were sitting (alone of course) around the bush TV when one of the managers of Toka Leya came down to talk with us. Maybe he was intrigued and wanted to meet the couple who actually sat around the campfire? The manager's name was Stephen which you will remember is also Mr. Deep's name. We ended up chatting with Stephen for a while and that's when he told us these two stories. 

A very cool fire pit. I mean bush TV. 
Stephen and Stephen 
The first story was told to Stephen when he was young by a friend of his father. The friend had been working far away from his village making and selling charcoal. As an aside when we were out driving with Godfrey we had seen men on bikes with baskets full of charcoal so going to the forest and making charcoal to sell is a thing.  

While making charcoal the man began to feel ill. He realized based on his symptoms that he had malaria and so he decided to try to make the long walk back to his village before the illness worsened. It was a long walk of about seven hours. After about three hours of walking the man spotted a herd of elephants along the path. He was nervous because elephants can be unpredictable. Also by this time he was feeling very sick and weak and although he cannot be sure what happened next he thinks he fainted from his illness. 

When the man woke up he was confused and unsure where we was. He was no longer on the path and instead was lying the shade of a large tree. He also could not find the bag he had been carrying. After a few minutes of searching for his bag he finally spotted it way up high hanging from a tree branch. The bag was hanging too high for the man to reach.

The man continued on his journey home. When he arrived he was very sick. He finally began to recover he told his family the story about what had happened to him on the path. The man said that as the herd of elephants was the last thing he remembered seeing, that he believed that while he was passed out that an elephant picked him up and carried him under the tree setting him down in the shade. He also believed that an elephant had hung his bag high in the tree to keep it safe. The man's family was skeptical of this story but when he was strong enough they accompanied him to the tree and saw his bag hanging higher than a man would be capable of placing it. It was then that they began to believe the man's story. In order to retrieve the bag, someone had to climb up the tree and cut down the branch from which the bag hung. 

The second story was about Moto Moto. You may recognize this name as the name of the hippo in the movie Madagascar. I didn't because I haven't seen a Disney movie since the 70's. Anyway, Moto Moto as he came to be known (he was named by guests at Toka Leya) was a young male hippo living near Toka Leya but struggling to survive. Male hippos can be very cruel to each other and the staff working at the lodge often noticed Moto Moto had scars and cuts caused by fighting with the other male hippos. 

Moto Moto was very smart though. He began to notice that the other male hippos were afraid of humans and would not venture near the lodge and so he carved out a territory for himself and made the beach on the banks of the Zambezi next to the lodge his home. He often slept underneath the Toka Leya lodge deck. Under the deck was a perfect hippo home because hippos have very sensitive skin and cannot stay out in the hot daytime sun for too long. After about four years of living at the lodge Moto Moto was big and strong and he reentered the hippo pod as a dominant male. Sometimes the Toka Leya staff still spot Moto Moto out swimming and walking with his pod. 

Mr. Deep snapped some photos of hippos out of the water. A very rare thing to see! Could one of these guys be
Moto Moto? 

Sunday, September 11, 2016

The Mother of Invention

Charles and me
Yesterday, my flip flop broke. These things happen as anyone who has ever owned a pair of flip flops knows. When you think about it, flip flops are a ticking time bomb. It's not a matter of if they will break but more a question of when.

These flip flops were about three years old. They served a good purpose and I was not particularly upset that one broke because they had a good run, but I was inconvenienced.  At the time of the breakage I was in a parking lot. I had just finished chatting with my friend Charles (pronounced to rhyme with house) a car guard who works in the shopping centre across the street from where we live. I have known Charles since we moved here and I see him several times a week. I know all about his life and his family because of our many chats. I have given him some (nice) old clothes that belonged to Mr. Deep and I have also bought him some groceries a few times. I had just said goodbye to Charles and when I tried to walk away, the plastic piece between the toes broke. It didn't just come out of the hole, it actually broke in two. The flat, nail head like piece that sits under the hole in the bottom of the sole broke off the stalk like piece that goes between the toes. 

"My shoe just broke" I told Charles, mostly because I felt I had to explain why I was stumbling around.  I showed him the shoe and he kindly offered to try to fix it for me so I left the flip flops with him. Luckily, as I mentioned, I was at the shopping centre at the time and I walked (barefoot obviously) to a store that fortunately sold flip flops and I bought a new pair. 

Walking barefoot isn't so strange in South Africa but you don't often see adults doing it.  And, I had two reasons for being in the shopping centre. I was getting a manicure and then I needed to get a few things at the grocery store. I wouldn't have minded going to the nail salon without any shoes. I am in there often enough and I would have explained what happened and gotten a few laughs over it, but the grocery store could have been problematic. Not that there is a no shirt, no shoes, no service rule here, there isn't. But you generally don't see barefoot adults in the grocery store. Barefoot kids are seen all the time. 

When I got back to my car I saw Charles again and proudly showed him my new shoes. I was feeling pretty good that I was at a shopping centre at the time of the break, that in the shopping centre was a store that sold flip flops and that the store was open and had flip flops in my size.

And then Charles told me that he had fixed my shoe. He somehow found a piece of strong wire and threaded it through the plastic stalk. The wire, placed on the bottom of the shoe was now holding the plastic piece in place. "How did you do this?" I asked him, meaning, how did you happen to find a piece of strong wire in the parking lot? And, even if one was lucky enough to find wire, threading it through thick plastic must have been difficult. 

"I used my brain" he said. 

This incident, although kind of silly, perfectly communicates what it is that I love about living in South Africa. I love that I can walk barefoot if I have to and people just have to deal with it. I love that I have a friend who is so kind that he would want to try to fix my shoe for me. I love that he was actually able to fix it. But mostly I love being reminded how many people in this world live differently than we do. They can't (and won't) throw something away just because it is broken and damaged but instead they will try to fix it. 

I will continue to wear my newly repaired flip flops. Granted, I will only wear them around the house because they certainly will break again, but I will wear them until that time and when I wear them I will be reminded of Charles, his life, his brain, and his kindness. 

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Wednesday, September 7, 2016

A Baptism and Machine Guns

More about Zambia.
View of the spray from Victoria Falls taken from the helicopter launching site.
The Tokaleya people named the falls
Mosi-oa-Tunya which translates to
Smoke that Thunders in Tonga. 
We had the choice of either a 15 minute helicopter ride or a 30 minute ride. We chose the 30 as that ride included flying through narrow river canyons and passing over Victoria Falls twice. Mr. Deep took Dramamine to avoid motion sickness. I did not. I felt o.k. but was glad the ride was not longer than 30 minutes...if you know what I mean. 

In the chopper it was only the two of us plus the pilot. I sat in the front and Mr. Deep sat in the back. We got to wear cool headsets so that we could hear the pilot and also communicate with each other.  Yes, just as I will take classes at the boxing gym so I can wear cool boxing gloves I will fly in a helicopter in large part because I want to wear the head set. Maybe this blog should be renamed My Thoughts From The Shallow End? 

Serious coolness
Our pilot
It was an amazing view and I highly recommend taking this flight if you ever have the chance. Whizzing through the canyons felt like living a video game. 


Heading back to land at the pad
After the flight Godfrey drove us to the falls and took us on a walking tour. There are a lot of baboons near the falls and they are quite aggressive actively trying to find food that people may be carrying. At one point Godfrey picked up a big stick to threaten the baboons with so that they would stay away from us. 


Finally we walked way out on a bridge until we were about halfway across the falls. This is known as the baptism as you get soaked with water. All of the cameras and phones had to be put in a dry bag and we wore giant ponchos.  Once it was dry enough we snuck the phones out for a few quick photos.

Godfrey and me
Even though I lived in New York State for most of my life I have never visited Niagara Falls. Vic Falls is one and half times wider and twice as high as Niagara. It is also one of the seven natural wonders of the world and only the second that I have visited (I have been to the Grand Canyon.) The falls span between the countries of Zambia and Zimbabwe. Across the falls we could see people on the Zimbabwe side. And...there was no fence or barricade between them and the falls. Imagine if the ground is wet and you slip? 

The wet season at Victoria Falls is February and March. At this time approximately 500 million liters of water is flowing through the falls per minute. November is the dry season and the water volume is reduced to about 10 million liters per minute.  

You would think nothing could top a morning of flying over and getting sprayed on by Vic Falls. But, in the afternoon we had the amazing opportunity to walk with rhinos.

Due to an epidemic of poaching for their horns, rhinos are critically endangered. Nine of the eleven white rhinos that live in Zambia live in the Mosi-oa-Tunya National Park where we visited. These rhinos are tracked and watched 24 hours a day seven days a week by armed Zambian Wildlife Authority guards. The guards carry AK-47s and they follow the rhinos around making sure they do not become victims of poaching. The guards have been instructed to shoot now and ask questions later if they suspect a poacher. This is how serious the poaching problem is in Africa. We had the chance to see four of the nine white rhinos that live in the park. Also, white rhinos aren't white. You can tell a white rhino versus a black one as the white have more of a square shaped mouth. 

You can see by our shadows just how close we were to the rhinos.
Mr. Deep and one of the guards

Mr. Deep gave the guards a donation to thank them for their work and then they were more than happy to pose with us for a photo. Their names were Stanley, Echo and Charlie. Now that I am writing this I wonder if those were not their real names because it sounds like military speak. Maybe they are undercover due to the dangerous nature of their work.

About Me

My photo
Hello and thank you for taking an interest in my blog. This blog tells the story of some big life changes. First, my husband and I have moved from the U.S. to South Africa for three years. We moved due to an exciting opportunity my husband had with his job. Second, I won't be working anymore. I'm actually not allowed to work so that will be different given that for the past twenty years I've been somewhat of a workaholic. I'm excited to share our adventures with you! My thoughts and opinions are my own.