achtung baby!

greetings from berlin!

yes, ich bin ein berliner (sic). what a crazy month july 2011 has been. i knew this was coming - meaning that i had to move to berlin for an assignment that the monolith insisted i do. to be honest, i was ambivalent about it for a long time. initially, i said 'yes' as saying 'no' would have had... em... undesirable effects on my career. also, at the time, i was in the dante's seventh circle of hell - aka saudi arabia - so i would have agreed to go to bloody siberia if asked.

and then i had the wonderful red tape nightmare of a work visa application. just kidding - the visa agent did everything but the anxious wait was just horrible thanks to the wonderful south african police services - damn. anyways, eventually, the work visa was granted and i needed to get to berlin in basically a week.

which means, i had to pack up my entire life in one solitary week. crazy. but you know, i do have an amazing family. i am ashamed to admit that they did it all - moved me out of my loft and did all the other things for me - i barely lifted a finger. really, i should not be moaning - between my mommy and sister - they sorted it all. i know, i am very lucky :)

so, i make my travel plans and yesterday, after a 14 hour journey, i landed at berlin-tegel airport (a suprisingly... shitty airport which is being replaced in 2012). first impressions - berlin is hot. being the middle of summer and all... one thing you realise very quickly, is that berlin is ever changing. anyways, i get a cab (with no aircon and slimy cab driver) for the 10 minute drive to my hotel. check in and all... then i meet my relocation agent who will be doing my registration with the alien office here. and finally, i am out - exploring :)

strangely enough, my daddy (who is in the great beyond) would have been 60 years old on the day that i arrived in berlin (07 July). and it got me thinking - what would his take have been on all these things. so much happiness is happening in our family now and he is missing out on it - he would have loved it. he would have retired from a lifetime of hard work and him and my mommy could have enjoyed their retirement together - but the cycle of life and death is something that must be accepted and is beyond our comprehension. but i do feel for my mommy at times - after working hard for their kids (me, my sister and brother) they deserved some time to enjoy their famiy and each other. anyways, that's life and we must just go on.

the hotel is in a historic area called berlin-mitte. mitte is aptly named as it means 'middle' in german and is actually in the very centre of berlin. it is in the previous east berlin and contains all the highlights of checkpoint charlie, the brandenburg gate, the reichstag, etc. it's the glamorous heart of berlin - a heady cocktail where culture meets urban edginess.

and as you would have it - just around the corner (quite literally), is wittenbergplatz - a lovely shopping district. and is this town geared to shopping - amazing. the crown of wittenbergplatz is undoubtedly kadewe - the second largest department store in europe (an abbreviation of kaufhaus des westens) - situated in a beautiful art deco building. now for all you capetonians of a certain age - picture garlicks on steroids. 7 floors of retail heaven - and as luck would have it - most of it at 50% off - i came at exactly the right time. major sales everywhere - and you know, i love a good sale :)

the price of clothes in south africa is a scam (ok, it does have to be transported half way across the world but still...). labels that cost a fortune in cape town is really inexpensive here. a diesel or g star jeans costs the same as a levi jeans. go figure... food is cheap. although i will say again, as far as quality goes - you don't realise how good you have it in south africa. i'm just saying. have discovered, the germans love pork and they adore bread. aaaak - no carbs for me please. although i found this neat little place that sells organic currywurst (yes, i said currywurst) for the princely sum of €2.50 - what a delight!

so today i found a wonderful apartment in berlin-mitte. a mere 10 minute u-bahn (underground train) journey to potsdamerplatz and then literally a 1 minute walk to the office. so now i just need to sort out the lease next week and i can move in the week after next. i will be forced to - the monolith only allows you 11 days in a hotel when on international assignment. cold as only the monolith can be. after that, if you haven't sourced an apartment, you're on the street, buddy. don't i work for a fucking peach of an employer :

ja, a weekend of work faces moi - but i am not complaining. the sceptre of the monolith is ever-present- just a reality for me. although, i do crave being busy and have no complaints on that score of late. i start work at the client on monday - eeeeek! ag, it will be fine. confident of it.

i wanted to explore some of the varied and... interesting nightlife that berlin has to offer but i have many months to enjoy that ;) and i need to find a personal trainer pronto - gotta get my bod back in shape. although on the plus side, i am nearing my goal weight! a mere 9 kg to go. it makes me so happy as it has been a long journey for neil. from being the size of a small house to my current size - and it's true - nothing tastes as good as being thin.

at my fattest, i was 165kg and wore a size 52 pants (gulp). i ate constantly. now i am 94 kg which means i have lost a grand total of 71kg. i am a size 33 now :) i hope to get to a size 30 and then i'll be happy. you know, i would love to say that i am a size zero. haha. i know someone who was a size zero as she constantly reminds all of us :)

anyways, i am resolved to blog more often so you'll be seeing lots more stories and experiences from me. have a brillant weekend ;)

finish&klaar

…and let me be telling you – what a time I have had. Very few ups, lots of downs but as they say – what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger. If that were true, I should be Superman by now – combined with Hulk and Wolverine to boot.

My misadventure started a couple of months ago when I was approached by the monolith to go to Saudi Arabia for a 6 week assignment. Two 3 week rotations, to be exact. Why, you may ask? Well, it was due to a series of unbelievably bad business decisions, etc – anyhoo – it meant that I needed to be on a jetplane.

So, after a myriad of issues and admin difficulties, I was finally on my way. I hope you are catching the trend – fuckups seem to be the order of the day in this hole of an organization. Can you tell I don’t really like my job/organization/management? Just in case you are not aware – I bloody hate it all! I can hear some of you muttering: ‘so just leave, quit!’. If only it were that simple – well, it never is.

I arrive in Dubai and transfer to my Jeddah flight – no problems. Very efficient and all – top tip: Emirates – great airline. Next stop – the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia and it is here that all goes kind of pear shaped.

The plane is filled with an assortment of people going to Jeddah (…obviously) – most of them for religious pilgrimage. All dressed in white – and me. We land and immediately, all the efficiency of Dubai is replaced with utter confusion. People jostling, pushing, shoving to get off the plane.

And all of this in 38°C heat. We get onto the bus and make it to the airport terminal, in the process, almost being run off the tarmac by a Mercedes Benz Maybach racing across a runway – yes, the effing runway - carrying, as I would later find out, a member of the Saudi Royal Family. As it quickly becomes apparent, they are not just the Royal Family. They actually OWN the entire country – absolute monarchy. Hello, 7^th century!

Into the terminal building – everyone racing about – no one really sure where to go. I follow some western-looking folks and land up in a queue for passport control. And it takes FOREVER! An hour later, I arrive at the counter. The passport official looks me up and down, barks something in Arabic and I hand over my passport and visitor form. Interestingly, on the form it states: DEATH PENALTY FOR DRUGS. SEVERE PUNISHMENT FOR ALCOHOL. OK… I get the message! Next, he gets on the phone and chats to someone for about 5 minutes. Seems like a casual chat with a friend as there is a lot of giggling going on. He puts down the phone and barks something. I say – I DO NOT SPEAK ARABIC! WHAT (THE FUCK) DO YOU WANT? At which point he gestures to this fingerprint machine thing.

Message received and do as ordered. Already, my heart is sinking. I realize that I may be in for a bumpy ride. For someone like me – over sensitive – this is not the place to be.

Eventually, he stamps my passport and I’m officially in Jeddah. It is now 90 minutes since we landed. I get to the baggage carousel and there is nothing. All the other people from the flights are also standing around. I ask someone from the airline what is happening. The bags should have been here already! He just gives me a blank stare.

Then the carousel starts. One bag comes out. 10 minutes later another bag comes out. A full two hours later, I am the only person left waiting. Nothing. Nada. Fokkol. I ask what is happening. Blank stares. I go to the policeman standing to one side and explain. He smiles and tells me that he will have a look. An hour later, my bag is located. That makes it 5 fucking hours since I landed. I get out and wow – my hotel cab is still waiting for me. Apparently, this happens all the time. Welcome to Saudi Arabia!

I get my first real sight of Jeddah and… well, it looks… bad. Ok, it is a desert after all. WTF did I expect? Verdant fields? As we enter the city, I notice that it is chaos galore. The traffic situation – I thought Angola was bad. No rules. No one indicates, checks blind spots or anything like that. Utter madness. I feel like anyone could crash into us at any time. Seriously, feared for my life.

Get to the hotel and it looks like a bad neighborhood. I was soon to find out that the entire city is a bad neighborhood. The place… is filthy. OK, that was incredibly ‘ignorant’ of me. I just had to say it. I guess Europeans visiting Cape Town, on the drive from the airport are horrified – it’s just a change in perspective I suppose. But Saudi Arabia is different.

The entire country is geared to one thing, really. Islam. An ultra-conservative version of Sunni Islam, called Wahhabism (google it), to be exact. On that note, being in the Middle East for an extended period of time, reading Arab news, watching Arab TV channels, one realizes that there are many different ‘versions’ of Islam. Sunni’s, Shi’a’s, Ahmadiyya’s, Sufi’s, etc and all of these containing many sects with different traditions and belief systems. It blew my mind a bit. Living in South Africa, where the Muslim population is almost exclusively Sunni, you are aware of differences between Indian and Malay Muslims but they mostly ascribe to the Sunni school of thought. Indeed, a very interesting thing I never knew existed! You live, you learn.

Now, please don’t get me wrong. I have absolutely nothing against anyone (besides ax-murderers, paedophiles and Nazi’s… and maybe… no, nevermind). Many of my best friends are Muslim. It’s just that I am not. I am a Christian. I am ‘a’ gay. I am not an Arab. In our inimitable ex-SAPS Commissioner and ex-Head of Interpol (cringe) words, I don’t belong here, finish and klaar.

And before I get any hateful comments or some crazy trying to blow me up - I love and cherish religious freedom and accept all for who they are – I would just like the same courtesy extended to me, I’m just saying…

Imagine an ultra-orthodox Christian (or Jewish – except for Israel, ofcourse, ok scrap Jewish… or Buddhist or Bahi’a or Atheist) country where you could only practice the one legal religion (other religions would be banned) and you were made subject to laws straight from antiquity. Oddly enough, that was OBL’s aim – setting up an Islamic caliphate – which basically means, expanding Saudi Arabian ideals and rule all over the Middle East – scary thought.

Even more interesting was the Arab perspective on OBL's demise. The (Muslim) Arab world absolutely IDOLISES this monster. Diplomatically, they despise him and all he stood for but many ordinary Arabs see him as a heroic martyr. Perspective - it's a mind-fuck.

It is a step too far. Culturally. Not religiously, though – most of us believe in essentially the same thing, for Pete’s sake. As I told the Moor (and the others assembled at a recently held soiree) when he asked me about my foray into the Middle East: “xxxx, if you aren’t an Arab or Muslim, you don’t belong in Saudi Arabia”. I respect the culture – it just ‘aint for moi. There, I said it.

But, I digress…

So, we arrive at the hotel – not bad actually. The Marriott, Jeddah. It reminded me of the Cape Sun and the Sandton Sun. Faded glory. But beautiful – all marble and crystal chandeliers. Check in proceeded without incident. Room is nice (almost exactly like the room I usually get at the Sandton Sun when I go to JHB), if overly large – wasted space irritates me. I’m just saying.

So, almost 6 hours after landing, I get to my room and like a good little monolith-consultant, I switch on my laptop and check my email. Perhaps, I think, it’s a good idea to call my project contact and tell him that I arrived. So, it is about 3pm at this point on a Wednesday (which is a Friday in Saudi – as weekends here are Thursdays and Fridays). I call this fool and he says – get to the office immediately! Get a cab and get here immediately. No Shit! Those were his exact words. Never mind I had no fucking idea where the fucking office was.

Ok, Neil – be calm. Grab a quick shower and get to the office. So, I do this. My second time in a Saudi taxi. Horror Of Horrors. Almost no one speaks English – duh! I try to explain for 5 minutes to the Pakistani taxi driver where the fuck I need to be. It is 38°C outside. Am already wet through with sweat – fuck, I just showered! And you have to barter with these fuckers. Another top tip: if you don’t want to be hassled by talk of cricket, do not mention to any Indian or Pakistani that you are South African. Almost immediately, they will launch into a major technical conversation about cricket.

I almost didn’t have the heart to say – um… I don’t do/watch/play/discuss/dream about cricket. Sorry. Feel like talking about Tom Ford’s latest range of eyewear? I thought not.

URGH – 3 things I hate most. Not being understood (and not understanding WTF someone is saying – if I ever go deaf, I’ll shoot myself, I’m just saying), bartering and being stuck in some inane sports conversation. No man. Nightmare situation. Just give me a bloody price and I’ll pay it. I have zero time to barter with someone. Boring. Petty. Greedy

Al-Kandara is my destination. Another shit-hole. I get where I must be and everyone I need to see is in this meeting. I can see it all unfold. I am sitting in this glass command centre, looking down on the people in the meeting and there is a major fight going on – in Arabic. This goes on for about 90 minutes and the Saudi’s (who all wear long white robes, quite fetching, really) storm out.

Then this guy (my contact) comes into the command centre and says: “You! Come here! You are late!” Now, you can well imagine, I am at the end of my fucking tether. I tell him: “YOU – who the fuck are you?” He stops, surprised. And then introduces himself like a decent bloody human being.

Now, let me put some of this into context. The monolith, like other major corporates, uses off-shore capability extensively. Most of our consultants come from massive global delivery sites in India and Pakistan. Now, these Indian and Pakistani consultants (bless them!) are another breed. Hardworking, humble, very talented and they ask no questions. Often they have 2 or more degrees + a MBA. And they are sooooo cheap. An India-Pakistan (or shall it be Pakistan-India? Just trying to be fair) consultant charge out rate is roughly 40% of a South African consultant of similar skill. Not even to mention a European consultant!

I mean, you could ask an Indian or Pakistani consultant to write some code, while standing in his head, spinning two saucers on his toes and make you a cup of coffee. And he will do it. I say 'he' as all of us are ‘he’ here. Women are not allowed in the workplace – severely frowned upon, apparently. But, I am not Indian nor Pakistani (another group of people that, quite frankly, hates one another). Nelson Mandela spent 27 years in prison so that I could have basic human rights – and NO ONE is taking that away from me – NO ONE. So, no – I am not about to let myself be abused.

I need some decency and respect. Else, I turn into a bloody monster. Truly.

After the customary introductions, I realize that I need the loo. I am shown where it is and at the door, I gag and leave immediately. Will not give you the pleasure of the ins and outs of Saudi’s ‘fine’ facilities – just know, it aint that fine.

And this sadly was how it was to be for the next 3 weeks – sheer and utter hell. No respite. And the more I fought it, the more senseless it all became.

FFWD 2 weeks and I get the flu. No – I am infected with the flu. One day at breakfast, a noisy group of Chinese businessmen sits at the table next to me. They proceed with doing things… well, the Chinese way. Slurping, coughing, burping, talking loudly, smoking, etc. [Oh yes – everyone in the Middle East smokes – everywhere. In lifts, at the breakfast table, fucking everywhere - gross]. They are the new ‘Ugly American’ traveler. Urgh, this bloody spell-checker keeps on reverting to English US no matter how many times I change it!

Yes, so the slurpers are having the time of their fucking lives. Coughing all over me – hello, have you never heard of droplet infection! And as you have it, by that evening, I was sick as a dog. I’m just saying.

I think – don’t worry – it will go away in a few days. No, it doesn’t. Eventually, I need medical assistance. The monolith does, to its credit, give good medical support to international assignees. So, I call them and they arrange a doctor’s appointment across town. I get a cab (by now I am like a local – bartering, speaking quasi-Arabic like nobody’s business) and I get there. To their credit, a great medical facility – think… MediClinic Constantiaberg – an oasis, really. I love anything medical – should’ve been a doctor – naa, can’t do numbers. A male nurse maybe – hahaha – can anyone say stereotypical!

The place is filled with friendly Filipino nurses who proceed to take my blood pressure and weigh me, etc. Then I see the doctor and here, it all goes pear-shaped. It’s an Arabic doctor. Who seems oddly pissed off that he needs to speak English to an imperial ass like me. The examination is carried out very brusquely. I suppose it is just the Arab way. No one says please or thank you. No manners. No respect. Everyone just barks orders. It’s a fucked up society. Sorry to say, but it is.

Examination over, get my meds – I tell him his fortune as I leave. He is shocked. No one here speaks up against Saudi males. But screw that and screw him. At this point, I have no fear left. He just gives me a smirk and I gooi ‘n lange. Get my cab and back to the hotel.

You know, everyone has a breaking point. And I had reached mine. I had just had it with being pushed and shoved around. So what! I am not Muslim. I am not an Arab. But, I am still a person – with rights – no matter where I am.

Funnily, as soon as you start pushing back, they retreat. It’s a classic bully situation. The men there are bullies. Used to bullying their wives and bullying their kids. Used to getting it ALL their way. It’s a 7^th century society – like I said, fucked up. I get the distinct impression that, in Saudi Arabia, men are shit scared of women. Actually. The power of women. So sad, really.

My hotel room overlooks the pool, which I also used quite regularly. Often, you would see a typical family – dad and kids in the pool having the time of their lives – laughing and other horse-play. And then – off to one side, almost hidden, the mother would be sitting. All in black. Covered from head to toe. Just sitting there. Just good enough to bring towels when shouted over to do so.

Now, I know this is an over-simplification. But it is what I experienced. Her attire may well be her choice but… I don’t know. To western eyes – it just seems so cruel and unfair. Like I said, if you are not Muslim or Arab – you do not belong in Saudi Arabia. Finish and klaar.

And then my 3 weeks were up. There I was, counting the hours, waiting for my cab to take me to the airport. And another thing – for such a wealthy country, you would imagine they would be sorted. I always imagined Saudi Arabia to be like a massive Dubai – how wrong I was. People here are poor. Average Saudi’s are poor. The Al Sauds (the royal family) basically own everything. They literally OWN the entire country. It is theirs. To do with whatever they like. They are all-powerful.

There is even a religious police. The Society for the Promotion of Virtue and the Prevention of Vice – I kid you not. It’s a voluntary organization with no shortage of eager, over-zealous enforcers. They are the ones that will harass a woman for not having every inch of her body covered (no ankles, no hair (even a single strand), no hands – basically cover your entire body is covered by a black, shapeless sack), if they see anyone not abiding by Sharia – you are in deep kak. If a single hair is out of your doek, beware. They can arrest and detain you and beat you up if they feel like it. The stories published about their abuses are scary. Crazy. AND, they are undercover, plain-clothes – either women or men.

It cultivates a feeling of mass oppression and fear – quite unbelievable, actually.

Back to my story, so… ja – am heading to the airport. Compared to Dubai (whose airport is a fucking dream!), this is like being at East London airport – no, that’s too good. Kimberly airport – ja, like that.

Chaos! Pilgrims everywhere. Confused pilgrims – and the Saudi authorities really treat Indians, Pakistanis, Indonesians, Filipino’s – basically everyone (except Arabs) like shit. It makes one so angry! So powerless…

Anyway, I am on the plane and outta there. 10 wonderful days in Cape Town and then back to the desert for the last 3 week rotation. And you know, it was three weeks of the same. Dreary, unhappy, sad. What a terrible situation.

The more I travel, the more I realize that I come from a beautiful, peaceful, respectful place. Ok, South Africa, the land of my birth, has a myriad of problems. Crime. Corruption. Xenophobia. Racism (still!). But there is a special quality here – a society striving to make something better. To be happier. To be freer. To be friendlier. AND protected by the most liberal Constitution on earth, the Bill of Rights and the Freedom Charter.

I guess I am just a wuss. But nothing, NOTHING compares to my dear old Cape Town. Just ask TripAdvisor. I mean, it’s official and all. The realization has struck me that I am a rather provincial soul. I must really stop starting sentences with ‘I’. So amateur. So self-absorbed. So ‘I’!

Next, the monolith is dispatching me to Berlin. No, not Berlin, Vermont. Berlin as in: hardcore Deutschland, Berlin. Checkpoint Charlie, the Berlin Wall - you feel me? Who knows, I may just fall in love with Berlin? I don’t really go along with ‘ze German vay’ - it stands for everything I am diametrically opposed to. Bluntness. Forcefulness. Absolute Correctness. Absolute Discipline. Absolute Order. Zero nuance. But, we’ll see… I have to start learning some basic German. Ich werde nach Berlin!

Hell, the language freaks me out. You know how it is – the subtleties of a language. Often, I hear foreigners in Cape Town say something that is directly translated (like my pathetic attempt above) and you think – damn, so much is lost in translation. If I am going to speak German, I am going to speak it like a native.

But, look I am not going to be the next Goethe or anything. Just want to know enough to order a Jameson in a bar, really. That’s all… Maybe I can ditch the monolith and teach English there. Sounds like a plan… FAMO! can come out and join me. I’ll be Claus and she can be Heidi. I’ll teach English and FAMO! can teach drama – you know, things we are good at. Hahahahaha!

I just hope it will be ok. As Angela Merkel said, multiculturism in Germany has ‘utterly failed’ - oops. Neil has zero tolerance for racism or any shit like that. None. So, I could just be fighting it out there as well. But, ve’ll see…

Now, I have to get rid of my much-loved apartment (very sad about this) and much loved Mini. Hey, nothing lasts forever, as they say.

i'm trying, really...

so here we are. the month of march has arrived and we are staring the closure of the Q1 squarely in the face. it would seem that time flies whether you're having fun OR not. i have been having quite a time of 2011 so far. and that is putting it lightly... very lightly.

thrills and spills - an apt term for describing my professional state at present. things are rotten in the state of 'monolith' - i'm just saying. the best way to describe my situation is to picture me as a plane that just wants to land. an incredibly cute plane with a beard. in a holding pattern. can't land. flying aimlessly. no direction. what a fucked up metaphor - but hey... it's me. having being benched for the last six months (i.e. me sitting on my ass at home, checking the odd email - sounds befok but is really very, very, very redundant).

well, as of last week, i was supposed to 'land' in oman... errr, the country, that is, for a project. that was cancelled as the middle east is kind of exploding. then it was dubai. now it is saudi arabia with a possibility of egypt in august. R.O.R.

i find myself fighting and having issues with people i never have issues with - or rather i avoid having issues with. third party issues. it's just the inevitability of it all, i suppose. unavoidable. am just feeling so very out-of-sorts. crazy.

but it's not all doom&gloom, you know. famo and i have been road-tripping the peninsular, chilling on the beach, drinking way too much. she is a very, very, very bad influence on me, to be sure. very naughty. we had a booze-drenched saturday. started with me, famo and jameson for pre-breakfast drinks at my loft. then to the actual breakfast - which kind of descended to a brunch/lunch affaire.

but was quite fun. between a drunken famo, me trying to keep it together, the moor taking it all in. shame, our poor waiter... well, serves him right for having such a hairstyle! well, we were at vanilla in cape quarter on pride saturday - so what i was expecting, i don't know. many cosmo's, mojito's, champers later, we got our actual food.

and then of course, famo promptly chokes on an oyster. it was like i was in the matrix. all was slow-mo. i turned and glanced at her. terror in her eyes. moor looking confused. all i could think was - oh fuck, i don't know the heimlich manoeuvre! my bff is gonna choke to death!! OMFG!! but a quick cough and a slug of brut seemed to clear it all up. hells bells - no more drama, please.

moor, ever the sports fan, had to go ride his bicycle in record temperatures! crazy. so famo and i continued the jol at my place. all i can say (with a very guilty face) that it included zinger wings AND hot wings. my poor waistline. shame.

had a lovely lunch with the family after church on sunday. lovely ending. and now it is monday :|

procrastination nation

...and monday swings around again. what is it about this particular day that drives all and sundry insane? it's just a day. 24 hours. but the context of a monday always freaks one out. i would imagine that it signals the end of the weekend and the time for us all to get back to... work. it starts to niggle with that sunday evening anxiety. saw something on facebook - when you hear the carte blanche theme tune - it's over, your weekend is OVER! now, do not even get me started on tuesdays - urgh!

it is particularly blue for me as i am feeling soooooooooo exhausted today. had a great weekend - a bit too nice, i think. lots of relaxing, some nice distractions and my birthday braai yesterday. my mother insisted on me having another function (ok, i have a rubber arm) for my birthday with my famille. a braai. now, i am not exactly the braaing type. i love eating the result but actually braaing - too much effort - as my family does wood braais. no charcoal shortcuts here... although i do admit, meat cooked over a piece of wood just tastes scrumptious - no pun intended. seriously.

so my brother usually does the honours but he was at the birthday party of miss40 the previous evening and was still partying at 06:00 that morning. can you picture me chopping wood? yikes! but i did. i chopped wood (albeit with the help of my new bro-in-law). we got an average fire going but then the serious braai aficionado arrived in the person of ossie (my cousin-in-law). he promptly took charge and produced a wonderful result. wow. vreeted so much yesterday - maybe that's why i feel so... kak today.

a great day, tanning (which also exhausts one + i am liable to look like an old bag of leather by the age of 40), swimming, offering assistance with the braai (which was thankfully ignored), boozing, lamming with friends (sporty and famo were in attendance as well). so that makes 4 birthday parties. what a blast :)

had such a gym session this morning. cardio. on my ace. i felt soooooooooo moeg. but i made it (barely). tomorrow i am seeing my trainer so better get my act together, pronto. no time for messing about when he is... about.

work... let's not even go there. all i can say is thanks heavens for the 5 minutes procrastination that writing this blog has afforded. some escape. some peace. now, to wait to go home.

...on turning 34.

i always said, in response to people saying: 'just wait until you're in your 30's...' - that's many years away. but now, i am well and truly ensconced in my mid-thirties. fuuuuuuuuuuuuck! on the 11th day of january this year of 2011, i turned the ripe age of thirty-four. i could have a guest-starring role in 'thirtysomething' for heavens sake. in any case, what is the use of stressing about getting older. it is inevitable and unstoppable. worry over. mid-thirties, as a concept has been embraced. over it.

...and the great thing of your 30's is that you grasp and understand so much more that you did earlier on in your life. i like saying that your 30's is when you pay off all your debt you made in your 20's - haha. now, i must admit - i feel more sorted and together than ever before in my silly little life. God has been very good to me and i feel blessed and very thankful. truly.

but the journey continues. more and more, as time flows by, i am learning to enjoy the journey and not stress to much about the destination. admittedly, i have missed alot being stressed and anxious about dumb things. this last 3 years have been a massive learning-feast for me. not all easy lessons, but all valuable ones.

youth is truly wasted on the young. i'm just saying. so in any case - this past week birthed my birthday celebrations. i had 3 parties (with another one happening this sunday). yes, 4 separate parties for someone who is not really even into birthdays. hell, i am truly a gay - 4 parties! and all this while being on the very last few $$ in my meagre bank account

party#1 - 11/01. 20:00. the grand beach club. sporty, moor, famo and myself. this is my core guestlist :) old friends. people who are sort of constant friends, no matter what. you know you get transient friends. here today, gone tomorrow. i've known these 3 for too many years - far too many to admit to. service 6/10. company 10/10. food 8/10. booze 10/10. ok, it was gatecrashed (very pleasantly so) by 2 of moor's cohorts (a brother, z1 and a cousin z2). i've known z1 for ages but met z2 at moor's annual bascule birthday bonanza (for the guests - hehe). but they were a very welcome addition to our festivities. great night.

party#2 - private.

party#3 - 15/01. 19:00. mutual heights. had a bit of a huisjol (house party). i cooked. i cleaned. i entertained. effing multi-talented. ja, so i had a bunch of friends (some old - as in late 30's... no just kidding #slap on the wrists for me). but, some old friends, some less-old friends and a brand new one. ja, so the guestlist (just 'cos i know y'all are dying to know): everyone that was at party#1 + the lovely and always charming cilliers sisters and their lovely friend, the very chic frenchie (doing a command performance as the resident paparazzi - merci, mon ami) and her beau love, an englishman and a german. quite a combo - a little homage to the global village, i suppose. all this with a cameo appearance from my neighbour that all the girls aflutter. everything else was a bit of a blur, especially after downing copious amounts of champagne. top tip: graham beck rose - a beautiful drink. just beautiful.

party#3 - cont... (don't you just hate people that don't use paragraphs!) ja, so famo decided months ago that she would be sleeping at my place so she could get well and truly sloshed. and that she (and i) did. she has been bit by the dancing bug of late - but, she can dance. singing she can't do. but dancing - famo must be given her props. i'm just saying. ja, so we danced, sang, ate, drank and was generally quite merry. great night.

party#4 - this will be a braai and pool party at my mother's place for my family and is combined with my sister's wedding album display. so - looking forward to that!

i am now nearing the end of my first week back at the monolith. not too bad. but tomorrow, things get busy - so... watch this space for all my moans and groans (and you know i can moan and groan).

adventures in gay dating and other things...

hehe, i knew that such a blog title would get your attention :) hi everyone and here's to hoping that you've had a fantastic festive season and enjoying 2011. mine was quite nice, thank you very much. chilled christmas braai with my family. new years eve with sporty. major event - my sister's wedding! aah, it was a stunner. stunner. stunner. perfect day, perfect weather, perfect and utterly professional service at the mount nelson - perfect. so glad my sister is settled and sorted. very gratifying.

so... otherwise it is ok. celebrated my birthday a few days ago with a selected few - yes, now i am 34 years old - it just makes me want to ball my ogies out! moor, famo, sporty and i descended on the grand at granger bay for a dinner. service (pre-seating) was appalling. seriously. crap. so, after a bit of indignation, we were seated. i must say, we had a good waiter. slow bar service. oi. it just may be the last time they see me.

later we were joined by moor's brother and cousin - the two zz's for some more laughs. hehe. obviously, i had way too much champagne, cosmo's and jager-bombs, but i digress - i had a great time, in any case :)

now, back to the title. i do hope y'all know that i am a gay male, 34 years old and living in cape town - just saying... ok, now that that's out of the way... so i have been dating for a while now and... you know - what a mission! i am one of those 'destination' people - don't care much for the journey so you can imagine.

a while back, i created an online dating profile on a well know south african dating website. not sure why, but when people speak about online dating - it's all in hushed tones - like it's something to be embarrassed about. after coming out - there is little that embarrasses me anymore - spent toooo many years being embarrassed about who i am - no time for that these days. anyways, so i've been dating guys - deal with it :)

and having been on all these dates here are some experiences and observations:

• get a picture of the person that wants to date you. please. do. this. an online profile can be all moonshine and roses and really, what else do you have to go on when formulating your opinion or view of this person. i mean, pitching up expecting to meet george clooney and having to sit through a whole date with gimli from lotr - not pleasant.
• afrikaners (gays) only like whites. ok, admittedly, that is a major generalisation but it carries some merit. i have spoken to quite a few guys about this and it seems to be the case - well, we are in south africa afterall? had a few dates with, what seemed like a really nice person - let's call him 'danie'. all was going rather well. had lots in common. picture exchange. spoke on the phone. a few rather successful face-to-face dates, even been to his house a few times and then - in the course of conversation (we were speaking about where we grew up and i was chatting about growing up in mitchells plain), he found out that i wasn't a white afrikaner. LAUGH-OUT-FUCKING-LOUD!! hello, was he BLIND. - could he not see me? maybe the fact that i can speak afrikaans like an afrikaner, lulled him into a false perception. he almost choked on his bloody foie gras. shame. he couldn't fucking believe it. he called me the next day and (to his credit), he was upfront and said that his family and friends would never accept a non-white. shame.
• gay men (except me) love dogs. genuine. you'll never know how many mindless 'dog' conversations i have had to sit through. even worse, someone that thinks it is ok to pitch to a date with their dog or worse - dogs. breeds, indoor/outdoor, walkies, pet food, doggy hotels, etc ad nauseum. hell, what's it with the fascination with dogs? maybe they are placeholders or substitutes for kids? you know, if you want kids, adopt. it is possible. unless you are afrikaner, that is - think about it. ok, ok - gonna lay off the afrikaners now - i have many wonderful afrikaner friends who ROCK!
  
• everyone says they want a stable relationship but 99.9% just want sex. sorry for the bluntness, but that is the truth. men (gay, straight, trannies, in the closet, out of the closet, transgender) just love sex. nothing more needs to be said.
• there are some crazies out there - beware. i have had the strangest requests. too risque to mention on this blog - even i am embarrassed ;) top tip: always have your own car / transport. very. important. let's just say, without going into much details, you DO NOT want to be in a car at 02:38 on a wednesday, hurtling down kloof nek with a crazy at the wheel. not advised. trust me.

ja, so i go back to the monolith on monday and is filling me with so much dread you can't even imagine. after a terrible 2010, on the professional front, i really hope and pray that 2011 will be a blissful one for me.

ciao!

so here we are...

...at (almost) the end of 2010. and what an utterly eventful year this has turned out to be. oi! from coming out to all and sundry to an awesome world cup to unbelievably horrible working stress to me losing my mind, etc, ad nauseum. no one can be in any doubt regarding the rigours of this past year. goodbye 2010, you won't be missed.

we've been through an economic crisis and recession like the world has never seen. people are suffering. it is palpable. and sad. in our times of advanced everything, it is quite humbling to think that the rug can be pulled out from under you at. any. moment. time is fleeting. as tough as this past year was, it's gone by soooo quickly.

i heard something years and years and years ago when i was a kid. someone older (in their 40's - which seemed, at the time, to be more like 100) said that time speeds up as you get older. i can vouch for that. seriously. it just flies by... leaving so much good and bad in its wake. ok - enough on the philosophical front - for now...

since londres, i've been travelling almost non-stop. after getting back from zanzibar, i had to leave immediately for the home of the stiff upper lip. spent a week there. came back to cape town and immediately had to leave for jozi. i think i've only spent 2 weekends back in cape town since getting back from londres. horrid. horrid. horrid. and dealing with the constant fuck-ups at the monolith - you know, it constantly amazes and shocks me - the lack of professionalism and integrity, the higher up the chain you go. i soooo need a new job (said for the 100th time)!

am just tired and gatvol of dealing with minor office-politics. damn. if i must hear, even one more time, a moan or complaint about the coffee at the office or how small the kitchen is or the constant fucking inane conversation. jitte - how much can one person stand! you know, buy your own effing coffee for fuck's sake. and try doing your job for once before bloody complaining! and i don't CARE that you now have the latest game for your pathetic bloody playstation, or that it cost you sooo much or that you had to have it imported or how many bits are in a byte or how to quickly find my ip address or why virtualising a server is so 'cool'... oh fuck it. having me working in the it sector - major mismatch...

in any case - on to much more pleasant things. in 2 days' time i am going on leave for 25 (yes, twenty-five!!) glorious days. cannot. wait. obviously. no plans. no money (when i got my salary last week [yes, i am one of the proletariat mass], a disturbing though crossed my mind: the next payday is a whole fucking six weeks away. *gulp*). and in that time, i have christmas, all the other big days, new years eve, my sister's wedding and my birthday. how i am going to survive financially - who knows...

but i will. i'm a survivor! i plan to spend my days on the beach and my nights... well, my nights - that's an entirely different story [insert evil laugh here].

did mcqp last weekend. was ok. must admit that i was expecting a bit more. maybe it was the venue (cape town stadium). while the stadium is stunning, it didn't stun over the weekend. another mis-match. wrong venue! i always seem to forget that i don't really enjoy such large events. too many people. too many people looking for other people. lost people. urgh - that part was exceptionally irritating. the trick is to go in a group and just do your own thing. who cares who is where? but otherwise, it wasn't too bad. kinda. sort of. was actually looking forward to it but as usual, my expectations are so high that disappointment was inevitable.

just call me an eternal optimist. ok, should this be my last blog of 2010, let me take this opportunity to wish you ALL a wonderfully joyous festive season filled with fun and happiness. i'm just saying...