I've come to the conclusion that skinny people travel well.

First of all, do you even sweat? No, why, because in the middle of a South African summer you can wear short shorts to the airport with a barely covered midriff and look fantastic. Well guess what? Some of us travel for work and yes, we sweat, we look frumpy and at the end of the day catching a redeye to another city we know better than the GPS, that’s definitely wine you smell, because we just drank all the free wine. And we’re late, always late. Why arnt there boarding notices in the airport lounges? You free wine giving devils.

I left the house this morning wearing fashion. I arrived back at the house looking like a Mr Price Sale. Why? Because there is NO WAY to travel in style.

Once I tried to wear heels to work, work being in Cape Town and home being Joburg. I had seen it being done by at a thousand commuter models in the last week, so I tried it.

1x taxi ride, 1x long ass haul your bag down the Gautrain escalators, 1x km walk to the check in desk, OBVIOUSLY boarding at the last gate in the airport and walking down that gawd awful ramp to the plane that makes your toes curl to support your poorly chosen attire, 3x apologies whilst plumping into your window seat later, whilst 1x eye murdering the bitch next to you whose heels are 5cm higher than yours but clearly had botox in her forhead as a sweat bead hasn’t broken in years you realise… she’s a 1x robot.

How can I not get this right? Ive flown more than Miley Cyrus’ private jet, yet when it comes to the security queue I can’t get my laptop/s out fast enough. The first bit of travel anxiety starts to tickling down my back and it’s settled, No matter how prepared I am the pressure you other travellers give with your beady eyes as “Amateur” drains across your face, give us, other well seasoned travellers enough to put me off travelling for life. I want to float, I want to be that girl that looks like she travels, but I feel like I am that girl that looks like she left the farm for the first time.

Do you do a pre-flight prayer? You know the one that as you start to queue after the 5 minutes of boarding calling, you start to survey the “manscape”.. At this point I’ve lost a bag to the air trolley, so I start to feel nimble and light. It’s at that moment I begin…
“Dear God, Please may I sit next to the most attractive man on this plane, see the one I’m looking at, yes, him, no, no not him, HIM, but if you’re paying more attention to saving cats on roof tops I understand, you are God BUT if you can’t get me next to him, please, please may the person be mute. A skinny mute. A skinny mute with no arms or legs, that hasn’t eaten anything gassy and is poor so he can’t enjoy the cash bar….Thanks.”

It bring me to this reason I am writing this rant. Not for the lack of my travel skills but for the love of ALL THINGS unpleasant. I am unfortunately writing this whilst post pre-flight prayer in between two of the most disgustingly gross humans I have ever come across. (A friend of mine posted last week that people that travel often would never get the middle seat, well my luck, and organisational skills, properly ran out this time). Whilst burping ALL the free food they consumed before the flight, “is that chicken?” I decided to write about my 1000 thoughts of how badly I travel. AND sincerely hoping that the two Shrek’s beside me are reading this and respect little humans like me to leave the food alone! Oh God, the guy on my left just ordered a beer. Sweet baby potatoes, my eyes are starting to water.

As I left the plane walking at a seriously “get me off this damn air-bus” pace, I hear a small but obviously male voice behind me.

Tiny voice man: “Miss, miss, sorry miss”
I will not turn around. I am done here. Whatever you found of mine, you can keep it. 
Fuck. 
Me: “Oh, hi.”
It’s one of those beer consuming, small people crushing, silent burpers. 
Tiny voice man: “Sorry Miss, are you a journalist?”
Me: “No. I just like to write.”
Tiny voice man: “Do you write for anyone public?”
Seriously? This dude.
Me: “ Yes, I have a blog.”
Tiny voice man: “Oh.”
Giving a small smile, I depart this conversation.
And then…
Tiny voice man: “I’m really sorry, it’s been a long day. I didnt mean to you, you know, make you uncomfortable.”
For the love of all things, I become a human again. 
Me: “It’s ok, neither did I”

As I walked to the train, I couldn’t help but think… I’m not the worst traveller in the world.

*Air Punch!*

A possible, possible.

It’s been the most life-changing week. I left behind all worries of ‘Making It: Self Employment’, dusted off the Durban Sigh and headed to the hills of a new little music festival called Spogweni. Little did I know that this little valley with no reception would wake me up to the possibilities of what life has just given me. And of course a story wouldn’t be a story without, yes, a boy.

                                                                                                     --------

Take away the commercialness of Splashy Fen, add 40 bands that feature on no hipsters playlist, mix in tall trees and tee pees but don’t forget the hippies and you have Spog. A festival in it’s 2nd year, but has no means reached it’s true potential.

I climbed a tree or two.
I danced until no one was dancing.
I reflected upon my life without fear.
My cellphone lay forgotten.
Hot showers, were expected but never found.
I stumbled into new friends,
And found my smile in someone else’s gaze.

I have a thing for smiles and all the happy adjectives that come with them. I heart adventure but sometimes am too scared to discover. Amsterdam, my human, that I refuse to be a festival fling changed my lightbulb and brought back my sparkle.

He had just finished a 5 month drive from the Netherlands down the west coast of Africa and arrived in his zebra-print wrapped Landy to a place not many people thought to go. He pulled at my comfort laces until they were untied with a new passion for life, for discovery and opened my eyes to the possibility, yes daily dears, the possibility that I have the power to create my own adventure.

We spoke about places WE would see with trees bigger than you or me, about African skies and passport controls. He gave me hope in my dreams that I will become everything I want to be, and most of all he made me see that I am the only one who holds the possibility.

But saying goodbye to Spog, with a mind clearer than a crystal ball only brought sadness into my heart. Not only was I saying goodbye to a human I would probably never see again, but to a feeling I know will only last as long M4 highway.

Now back in the city smog with only ‘remember when’ moments to look back on, I’ve realised that we all live a life of possibles, we just need to put in that little effort and invite a ‘It happened’ into our lives.

Next year, I am going to explore Africa. Thank you, Amsterdam.

Long Weekend Adventures

Over the long weekend in March I decided to take a little trip down the south coast. I am not normally a fan of the South as I have grown up on the North coast and have become somewhat biased but I was ready to explore that coast with new approach. I wasn’t expecting to land up 6 hours into the Transkei far away from anything that cried Kwazulu-natal. But sometimes spontaneity is necessary to reach the point where it just feels right.

We landed up in a little town called Coffee Bay which is 12 km’s away from the coastlines famous ‘Hole in the Wall’ and what a beeeutifuul place for spontaneity to have landed us. Phoning ahead we had booked ourselves into The Sugarloaf Backpackers (@CoffeeBaySA – Follow them on Twitter), which couldn’t have felt more like heaven.

Situated on the banks of the lagoon the rooms and campsite breathe in the tranquility of the ocean. I have always been a bit skeptical of backpackers as you never quite know who you will be sharing a room with but we managed to claim the last tent on the campsite, right on the water’s edge. For R100 a night and a little bit of pocket change for a meal, we were ready for sleepy-land, our trip couldn’t have started off better. So, after a few beers at the Sugarloaf’s Tokoloshe bar we were ready to get some rest for the following day’s exploration.


Coffee Bay is a great point break that cranks almost anytime of the year. With so many little bays to explore you are bound to find a wave to suit your level of surfing. For the seasonal type surfers there are surf lessons and board hire at the backpackers so you don’t feel left out while the Kelly Slater’s of the world carve away. P.S. If you are an avid surfer you will recognize Coffee Bay as one of the spots in the surf vid: ‘Drive Thru: South Africa’ where the likes of Donavon Frankenreiter, Benji Weatherly, Pat O'Connell to name a few, leave their mark on the Transkei shore line. 

So after a full day of hiking along the ocean cliffs, surfing our hearts out, swimming within the frame of Hole in the Wall (yes, it is possible when the tide is friendly enough not to wash you into the rocks), chasing goats, horses, cows and Mushroom sellers on the beach we hit the bar for one last Label.

To book contact: Brian on +27 (0)79 183 5274 or email bookings@sugarloafbackpackers.com or alternatively visit their website http://sugarloafbackpackers.com to book your weekend (or year) at this piece of paradise.