We are in Singapore. I love Singapore - it’s hot, it’s steamy, it’s full of delicious food (of which we have eaten much) and there are many cool things to do. On our last day, we decided to schedule in a visit to Jurong Bird Park, as it is, as I recall, excellent.
I like birds anyway - I became known for my ability to identify birds while in Namibia. ‘What’s that?’, people would cry as we passed some bizarre avian specimen. ‘It’s an ostrich!’ I would reply confidently, astonishing everyone with my ornithological knowledge.
The main thing I wanted to do was visit the Lory Loft, as I had heard that you could feed the birds and get close to them. ‘How lovely!’ I thought, picturing myself covered with delightful little...
My sister announced mid-last year that she was hitching herself to a tall Australian who likes to take her fishing at silly o’clock in the morning, and does stuff like buy her flowers, and tell her she is wonderful. This is excellent, as my sister is lovely and historically has had a tendency to go out with guys that are a bit shit.
So, now that I have a job I can afford (for ‘afford’, read ‘get further into debt by being able to say I can pay off a loan’) to go to Australia to be present, wear a dress, get drunk, fall off things and embarass the family - although by the sounds of things, I may yet be outdone by some of the groom’s more interesting relatives.
Anyway, on the way, Gordon and I are stopping off in Singapore. This is mainly so that he...
I have been a bit quiet these last few days because my head has been like one of those bingo ball machines. I have been all a-flutter, and haven’t known what’s going to be spewing out next. There are a number of reasons for this, some of which I won’t go into in case crazy ladies start spitting up bile all over the comments box again, and you know how I hate having to go and get the bucket of sand from my special blog cleaning cupboard.
However, one reason is that yesterday I had a job interview. It’s for a job that sounds absolutely brilliant, and which I would very much like to get. The interview was over the phone, and so I found it difficult to gauge how I’d done, but it seems that they want me to go in and meet them, so I’m flying home for a...
Yes, I’m off on holiday again. This holiday is one of the reasons I haven’t been posting much. I’m very excited about it, and haven’t really been able to think about much else, really. Not that there is anything of interest going on.
My mail has yet again failed to arrive, I’ve been battering my liver with fine wines and trying to keep out of the cold. And in Namibia itself, there’s been the usual spate of shootings, lootings and rapes - the papers are full of them. In Keetmanshoop last week, believe it or not, a 36 year old man was run over on the road, and not only did the car fail to stop, but so did the two cars that also ran over the body while it lay in the road. You see why I’ve been uninspired.
Anyway, my holiday. Much more...
So, my holiday was wonderful, thank you. Mozambique is a beautiful country – the antithesis of Namibia in many ways. It’s deeply lush and green, for a start, with real rivers that are filled with water, and not dust. The landscape is thickly packed with palms that hurl coconuts to the ground in abundance, and mango trees that drip with fruit. The heat and humidity is extreme, but was quelled by the off-shore breezes that we enjoyed while lazily eating samosas bought from small boys on the beach, watching graceful dhows and men with fishing baskets from the comfort of our shady tree.
The sea was like a bath, particularly in the quiet, friendly town of Vilanculos; the water was warm, still and clear, unlike the coast at Swakopmund, where the Atlantic breezes make you wish you’d...
I’m away!
I’m off on holiday until mid January – a very welcome break from sitting at work, dribbling in panic as the hours and minutes slip inexorably by, yielding little in the way of words on a page, numbers in a budget or relief from the screeching demons of under-achievement.
So I will love you and leave you for a while. If I manage to find an internet café on the pristine beaches of Mozambique I will make you all jealous by updating you regularly on the spectacular snorkeling, delicious fresh seafood, and copious amounts of beer quaffed in the name of rest and relaxation. If not, then I’m afraid, tragically, you’ll just have to wait until 12 January to hear all about the 25 hour bus journey to Johannesburg, and any other adventures I may have foisted upon me, up to...
I am having a beer with my friend Tariq when he casually mentions that the cost of a visa for Mozambique has been put up from 60 rand to 750 rand. This is approximately 65 shiny British pounds. I can barely afford my holiday as it is, and so this is a giant blow. I may have to sell a kidney.
I decide to phone the Mozambique High Commission to find out the truth, but however much I scour the phone book I can’t seem to find it. This is because, helpfully, there is no consulate for Mozambique in Namibia.
I steel myself for yet more financial pain, and call the office in Pretoria. As they confirm the awful news, I picture my Christmas beer money dribbling into airtight official coffers and begin silently to weep.
“Thank you,” I sigh. “And I can get it at the border, right?”
I...
My friend and I go into Trip Travel to buy our bus tickets for Mozambique. We are very excited. I envision the procedure – we go in, sit down, say “Hello! Three return tickets to Maputo please!”, and then minutes later, we walk out in to the sun, and go for a coffee to celebrate.
“Hello!” I say, sitting down at the desk. “Three return tickets to Maputo please!”
I remember to specify that we don’t want to add a million unnecessary miles on to our journey by going via Cape Town. This seems to cause a minor problem, and we now have to book each leg of our journey separately.
We begin laboriously to go through the options. After about 7 hours, we have decided on a schedule, which involves spending a night in Jo’burg, trying not to get mugged or murdered. I keep telling...