Boredom shmoredom

My mom always used to say that only boring people get bored.
I realised today - as I wait for the designer to design some pages for me to edit and people to get back to me about future features - that I could be one of these people.
I have therefore set out to prove to myself that I am not in fact a boring person and think about what I do or could to to fill up my time - at least until I can get to gym and get on that treadmill for my planned 50 minute run (I can't wait).
And that actually brings me to proof *1 - I exercise.
A month ago (let alone a year ago) I would never have thought that I'd be looking forward to or even be able to run for 50 minutes on a treadmill.
Back in first year at Rhodes I hit the inevitable first year spread, caused by too much drinking, too little exercise and res food. Anyway, second year was a year for change for me - changed res, started eating breakfast (who would have thought I could survive a whole day without that extra 45 minutes of sleep) and going to gym daily. It took me a while to get used to doing things on my own because a previous gym partner wasn't too dedicated and I realised if I was serious I'd have to do this on my own.
Anyway long story short - my life had a total revamp leading to happier me (boosted greatly by the entering of a certain curly-haired male into my life).

Well three years later I think I hit real life first year spread after moving up to the big city. The combination of 2 hour commutes, sitting at a desk and eating easy meals (hello pasta) and too many take outs on the weekend (living a block from McDonalds is tough ok!) and 4 kgs later I realised this had to end.

And so begins life revamp*2
This has involved a new way of thinking - no more diet but a lifestyle change and a gym membership (which, being paid for my me meant that I had to get my money's worth).
I think the most difficult part has been the weekends - which is when I'm most likely to relax on the exercise front (having gone all week to gym) and more lenient on the food choices, fueled by the worst kind of fuel - alcohol.
The other big factor is my curly-haired boy (who is not too into exercise and very much into KFC)
Having to be accountable to myself and others (have a weekly weigh-in on a Wednesday with my cousin on same journey)
So I have become a lot more vegetarian during the week (who would have known lentils could taste so good)
And my goal for every weekend is not to sabotage myself - which I'm largely succeeding in (I think) and have really got Curly used to long romantic strolls and eating healthy wholesome meals (turns out they cheaper too!)

So this post was supposed to be about why I'm not boring but all I've talked about is my weightloss journey (which is still far off target) but not bothering me much at all coz clothes are looser and its nearly time for my first 10km race :)

more about ways to keep me busy soon...

A world apart

Muizenberg, Cape Town, 14 August 2010

My trip to Cape Town last weekend was an amazingly eye-opening and interesting experience.
It started off with me getting slightly tipsy at the bar at the airport...alone. I felt empowered and invigorated being a 'young professional' (apparently that's how you define people my age who have a job and live in a city) sipping on my Savannah.
As much as I tried not to, I slept on the plane - it's just something with moving vehicles and me - and probably added to by my Savannnah lullaby.
Anyway, I revived myself with an energy drink while waiting for my luggage (had to be ready for a CT jol specially as it was Friday night!).
I got the giggles staring at a metal tool box going round and round the conveyor belt and watching everyone notice and stare at it, waiting to see who would own up to owning it.

I was met by my brother with a sign (he thought he was funny) and we then packed my bags into The Mayor. This car was passed down from me, who received it after 12 years from my mom. He 'pimped' it out with racks on top for his surf board...dude.
It wouldn't start. It was 23.45 on a Friday night and we were going to have to jam at the airport. Two kind men helped push start it and I looked hilarious running behind the car.

And so my Cape Town Adventure begins....

Long Street was a great night out. I must admit that I'd thought it was a fancy place that called for heels but turns out its like Melville, and is very chilled out. Bit freaked out by Nigerians offering weed at every street corner. And was very surprised by eclectic mix in Dubliner. I guess my Rhodes night life and limited mainstream jolling in Joburg has had me socialising in a very limited crowd of people (who are generally all like me). So it was really great being in such a multicultural atmosphere and I even started warming up to the Nigerians...until dear Remy got asked to be a drug pusher!

Saturday was probably my favourite part of my entire trip because it involved the beautiful mountain, bonding with my bro and a burger :) (Captured in above pic)


But before I leave this trip I have to make a few observations:
1. (The most important) No shop sells alcohol after 5pm on a Saturday or on a Sunday?!?!?!?! What's up with that! When I was barred from purchasing the necessary fermented grape drink from the local Pick n Pay, I asked in absolute wonder: But what if I want to drink at 6pm! [so one up to Gauteng for that one]
2. Everyone is uber chilled: Brother just didn't lock the car doors and had his window wound right down (i was freaking out big time, scanning each robot for potential highjackers)
3. Cape Town is beautiful. No question the most beautiful city in the country. But I would want to visit that beauty for holidays every now and then and stick to the 'Big Smoke' for real life. But that's just me

The rest of the weekend followed in a blur of friends, family and food and I got on the plane on Monday evening happily exhausted.

And I must admit (and this surprised me too) but I was honestly excited to see the lights of Joburg sparkling down below and really felt that I was back home.

This damn strike

“Burning tyres, barricaded gates and doctors crawling underneath barbed wire fences - that's how day three of the public sector strike unfolded at the Helen Joseph hospital on Friday morning.”

“The National Education, Health and Allied Workers’ Union said patients facing life and death situations must “negotiate” with strikers about crossing hospital picket lines.”

“Three pupils from Bernadino Heights High School in Kraaifontein, north of Cape Town, needed urgent medical attention after a mob of about 300 striking teachers descended on their classes.”

“A 21-year-old man, who needed emergency surgery after his hand had been chopped off, was turned away by two state hospitals due to a public service strike, says paramedics.”

“A ward assistant said that there was no kitchen staff on duty so patients could not be given porridge in the morning."There was no one to make porridge this morning so we could only give the patients bread and tea for breakfast."”

“As 53 critically ill babies were left to starve by striking nurses, and as more than 10 adults died at an abandoned Gauteng hospital, private clinics and military medics yesterday came to the rescue of the country's crippled health system.”

This public strike is making me absolutely furious!

Yes, it is your right to strike but as President Zuma noted yesterday, you have absolutely no right to do it violently – putting others in danger.

One amazing brightspark said on the news last night that “they must find the money, even if they have to borrow from Zimbabwe”. Seriously?! If the government gives in to the demands, there will be serious repercussions in this country, and if they don’t, the consequences are scary.

Do they not realise that to pay these salaries, they are going to have to take funds from the actual public sector.

And just wait, the next strike will be about lack of equipment.

And those ‘others’ are the most vulnerable in our society – patients in hospitals (if they weren’t turned away), who can’t even get porridge in the morning, let alone medical care.

School children – the future of this country – who are literally being denied their education because their schools are closed. I fear this year’s matric results will be worse than any other year as they have already been disadvantaged by the long holiday during the World Cup and now they must do preparation on their own as their teachers toi-toi and picket.

That being said, there are brave doctors, nurses and teachers who continue to do their job despite intimidation and threats from their colleagues. My friend, Kate, a nurse at Steve Biko Hospital in Pretoria is going to work in plain clothes, and is relieved to be working night duty because at least she is missing the most of the strikers. She is paid just as badly and yet she is still going to work? What makes her different from her toi-toing colleague? They studied the same, do the same job and are both equally dependent on their paycheck to survive (no hand outs from a rich daddy for Kate). And yet she would probably climb under barbed wire to get to her patients that need her. 

The difference is this: passion and dedication. From her passion, she is dedicated to do her job no matter what.

I hope that I too will have the same passion for truth to keep doing my job as a journalist no matter what. And I fear that day is sooner than we think with the Protection of Information Act and talk about a Media Tribunal.

A glimpse into another world

Seasons Wither, Jet, 30 May 2010

The consequences of jolling at Johnny's

 This is how my weekend started:

Friday night, head off to Johnny's for an afrikaans jam with about 10 of J's mates who had already arrived.

Note 1: Johnny's is in Glencoe (a town five min outside Dundee) which us Dundonians refer to as the trailor park of Dundee

Note 2: the ATM outside the 'club' has like a garage door in front of it, preventing anyone from using it. Why? you might ask...well i settled everyone down in front of it to explain - there have been too many ATM bombings in Glencoe so they are now all closed off at night.

 

K anyway, so J had hired a taxi (like a real taxi) to fetch us and drop us off etc, James and I were in the front and were dropped off down the road to my house (the rest were going to the farm). we took about half an hour to walk the 500m, stumbling, swaying and stopping for breaks on the grass. eventually get to house, think remote doesnt open gate and go round to back door which is also locke.d then discover garage does open and off to bed we go (me in my mom's room and james in j's room) i did have a few spoonfuls of cold soup that were left from mom and gran's supper (just what you feel like after a night out)

 

next morning have many errands to run - driving farmer's bakkies, fetching millions of mattreses, decorating tent etc. anyway. i couldn't find my purse - stress! phone standard bank to see if any activity on my cards (none), get hold of taxi man (he doesn't see anything) and i keep stressing. look at home again, nothing. so big stress....it must have dropped out when we stepped out of of taxi and some delightful person has a nice new guess wallet.

 

so i cancel all my cards (please bear in mind that i have spent at least 5 hours in the last 2 weeks getting new accounts, fetching cards, going back to change limits etc). also go to police department to report wallet lost.

sadness

 

then i go home on sunday and front door locked again so i go round back (suddenly a sense of dejavu descends on me).

BOOM. a pretty guess wallet lying on the path!

The true supporter

Besides the matches, the foreigners and the excitement that has completely gripped our country, the national pride and unity is the greatest part of the 2010 World Cup.

Everyone, from the president of the country to the lady that cleans and sweeps for a living (pictured left) is feeling the gees and has welcomed the world with open arms. And so what that Bafana is the first host nation to be knocked out in the first round...they still whipped the asses of the frogs...and the whole nation remains proud of our national team. 

Jonathan Jansen recently wrote a column on the seven reasons why the World Cup has been a success in South Africa. And the most important reason of them all is that this has been so much more than football for South Africans. It's about an opportunity for the entire country to get together and showcase our diversity of culture, language, food and scenery - plus the vuvuzelas - to the world.

And with just a few days left of the football spectacle, we have certainly succeeded.

 

Maid in the RSA

Yesterday morning I decided to forego my usual gym workout and embrace domesticity. This decision was not motivated by plans on becoming a housewife any time soon but by the fact that our newly hired maid, Viola, had disappeared.
My housemate, Miranda, and I don't have the best of luck with maids it seems. The last one smoked like a chimney, had the most unpractical and interrupting cleaning schedule (a bit of bathroom, a touch of washing up and a sprinkling of ironing throughout the day, in between her 2 boxes of cigarettes). Needless to say, she complained about us to her other employer (Miranda's boyfriend's mother) calling us disgustingly messy and said there were strange men walking in and out of the flat all the time. The only men - who might appear a bit strange to people until they get to know them - are my boyfriend and a friend who slept on the couch once. So anyway, Miranda very nicely told her that because I'm 'moving in with my boyfriend', she couldn't afford her. And the transaction was complete, with even a 'God Bless' from Alice.

So now, Maid Number 2. She's the girlfriend of the handyman of the complex so figured she was a safe bet. Until the night before her first day when Gift (her boyfriend) rang my doorbell and informed me that she had disappeared. He'd heard that she had family in Midrand but otherwise she had just taken some of his things and upped and left on Monday. I was so disturbed by this relationship crumble and really appreciated his honesty and courtesy of coming to tell me.

So, I cleaned the kitchen from top to toe, did the washing, scoured the bathroom and was just about finished with the dishes when the doorbell rings.
Enter Viola, our new maid (who had simply had a fight with Gift and gone off in a huff), here to clean the kitchen from top to toe, do the washing, scour the bathroom and wash the dishes....again.