But, enough of that, let's talk about South Africa. If you haven't been or are not planning to go, then what the hell is wrong with you?
I arrived in Cape Town nice and groggy from the "mild" valium pills the doctor prescribed me (fear of flying due to a pilot attempting a nosedive at 23,000 feet three years ago - bloody cowboy).
I would love to say this is the sign that greeted me upon my arrival at the airport, but sadly...no.
The hostel sent me a wonderfully manic driver who proceeded to tell me in great detail about his unfaithful girlfriend. (In my semi-comatose state I mumbled something about there being plenty more fish in the sea, to which he wholeheartedly agreed and which brought him to his next topic - HIS mistress)
At the hostel I was greeted by the charismatic Vuyani, or "V" as I called him because I couldn't remember, or pronounce, his name...
He was attempting to jump from the second floor balcony to the somewhat small pool below... Not that we minded what he was doing as long as he kept wearing those lovely little shorts.
He was also a thoughtful soul. He took one look at my haggard, wilting appearance and was all sympathy...he took me hiking up Table Mountain first thing the next morning.
Beautiful isn't it? But bloody steep. We also had to be careful what route we took as some are targeted by unsavoury sorts...
No, in all seriousness, they have security guards. On the mountain. Gives extreme hiking a new meaning.
But, we made it safe and sound. Well, safe anyway. (Ant, V and Marion)
This is Lion's Head, because it's kind of sort of not really shaped liked a, well, lion's head.
I thought it looked like an evil duck. With teeth.
Speaking of weird and wonderful rock formations, is it just me (and it usually is), or does this look slightly phallic?
After a long day hiking we came back to a piping hot jacuzzi. Except Rachel didn't realise the backs of her knees were sunburnt, did she? In my haste to escape I literally fell backwards out of the tub onto the concrete, giving myself a bruised butt...which kind of worked well, as it took my mind off the BLINDING PAIN on my legs.
However, I managed to suck it in for one photo. (This is a grimace, not a smile)
Snow in summer? No, just lots of birds with some serious bowel problems.
Went down to the Cape Town waterfront. Beautiful place, but disappointingly like Disneyland for adults...
This was on the door of a Mexican restaurant...Left me wetting myself for a good 5 mins. I couldn't get the image of a kebab-skewer-wielding Mexican bloke chasing after little chillis with legs out of my head. I want to meet him.
Ant and I at Clifton Beach. It has to be one of THE most beautiful beaches I have ever been to.
It was also an area of extreme wealth. So I figured since the exchange rate was so good, I'd do a spot of shopping.
They even had little gondolas going up to their houses. Mad.
But even they have to deal with the harsh realities of life. It's quite disturbing, but there's a huge problem with pedophilia.
And hippies.
Oh dear, the dreaded wine tour...
Led by the charming and slightly insane Stefan. (Lisa, do you recognise your hat?)
It started off with me taking lovely scenic pictures of the wineries...
...and then I somehow ended up with a glass in each hand for the remainder of the tour.
Here's the very affectionate Lebo giving Mark some love in the backseat (which Rik seems to be feeling too).
And I found a random guy wearing a Wolfmother t-shirt! Apparently this excited me very much.
The next day we felt understandably seedy. So we thought the best thing to do would be to go diving with sharks.
Thankfully though, the intense seasickness completely quashed any fear we may have had.
Unfortunately the water was a bit murky, but you can kind of make out the shape of the shark. Because it was summer, these were only babies. Yeah, babies at 3 or 4 metres long. Crikey!
And here we are in the cage - praying. Even though you're surrounded by steel, it's still a powerful feeling to know you are submerged in the same waters as a great white. You can't help the 'Jaws Sensation' that comes over you. I had to start humming a Beyonce song to get the tuba music out of my head. Which actually terrified me more.
Because we loved Stefan's totally unbalanced personality, we decided to employ him as our guide for Cape Point and everywhere in between.
Amanda and I at seal island. If, for some reason, you have the urge to smell something so horrendously bad it singes your lungs, go there. They should really rethink their diet, if only for the tourists sake...insensitive bastards.
This is at Cape Point - where the "two oceans meet". Apparently. I was politely informed that they actually meet in Cape Agulhas.
But, I didn't care too much as the views were absolutely magical. Very dream-like.
And here we are at the southernmost point of South Africa. But they're probably lying about that too.
Driving along when the usually playful Stefan bellows out, "Windows up NOW". As you can see there's a wee issue with baboons. They're quite arrogant creatures. Just roam the roads, strutting their stuff. Settling themselves comfortably on the hood of any silly twit who decides to stop to take pictures. (We came back that way and the guy was still there)
On to Boulders Beach to see Pingu...and friends.
I was lucky enough to get a ticket for Robben Island, so I tootled along with my political ignorance in tow, hoping to get a picture of Mandela's cell and be back in time for lunch.
I don't have to tell you how much my eyes were opened. I vaguely knew of the atrocities, but to have someone - an ex-prisoner no less - descibe to you what happened to them and their fellow inmates was simply heartwrenching.
Our tour guide. He didn't tell us his name, but he was imprisoned, beaten and tortured from 1978-1984 for participating in a protest - age 16.
This is where Nelson Mandela kept his memoirs. He would write on napkins, wrap them in plastic and bury them in the corner of the courtyard.
The limestone quarry where the prisoners were forced to work. Many went blind from staring at the white walls. The cave is where they used to study. Hidden away from the guards, they would teach each other how to read and write by drawing in the sand.
And yes, I managed to get a picture of Mandela's cell.
Interestingly enough, the former guards and prisoners now work together running the island as a museum. I don't think I would have that degree of forgiveness in me to work alongside someone who abused me so horrifically, but it's such an admirable strength, and one I wish more people possessed.
And on that somber note, I'll go - finally. And leave you with a very special picture my friend Arthur sent me...
He must get a lot of business.
Ta rah! xox
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