We work together in the Café de la Crème in Randburg, which has a working wireless connection. At 10pm, after loads of emails and blogposts, we decide it’s late enough and return home.
January 31. I challenge you to write a more boring blogpost! was originally published on Meandering home
We visit a Charity Shop in the morning and have a bad experience with the owner. We introduce ourselves and Charity Travel, the rough style. Let me reconstruct the words of the prissy decadent shopkeeper.
“We’re looking to do somethin’ good. Maybe you could link us to some small-scale ngo around here?”
-“You guys are crazy.”
“We could help campaigning against HIV/Aids and…”
-“You are untrained.” (how the &”%* does she know? And we ARE experienced)
“We could assist in an orphanage and…”
-“Who knows maybe you are going to eat the kids. I send you there and the next thing I hear is a kid has disappeared. Maybe you can do this in other countries of Africa where they still DO eat humans (sic!) but not here.”
“Thank you very much.”
And we turn our back on the Charity Shop, giggling about this somewhat sad experience on our way to a huge shopping mall where we get a computer for Yeon so that we can work simultaneously on the documentation of our project.
At night I improvise a tomato soup. Not that it’s relevant, but still.
January 30. You are untrained. was originally published on Meandering home
Now we walk along the highway to Kempton park, take a minibus to downtown and swoosh up the 50 floor Carlton center tower to oversee the city. Square blocks, highrises. Only the distant African landscape reminds us we are still in Africa. We see buses meandering around Ghandi square, and being fans of Ghandi we decide to go there and sit down in the shadow of his statue.
We do some shopping. The purchase of a South African SIM card and we connect to Etienne, our couchsurfing host. He is available at night so we spend a worry free afternoon in downtown Joburg. The purchase of a nailclipper further removes some rough edges. And the purchase of a banana keeps me going until we arrive in Randburg, a quiet neighbourhood north of Johannesburg that makes both of us feel we are in Los Angeles.
We eat out in a Vietnamese restaurant that serves a good, yet westernized version of Vietnamese porc chops and noodles. After dinner, in a nice cocktail bar, we have a watery whisky cocktail whose description tastes better than its actual ingredients.
January 29. Whiskey cocktail? was originally published on Meandering home