Mexico City DF

To begin with, I must say that Mexico City Districo Federal was oh so good for my ego. I was the centre of attention in a way I had never imagined before.
On the street corners the cops would stop whatever it was they were doing and look, not stare, but absorb the sight before their eyes, almost every third person I walked by on the street would have this amazed look on their face and it would make me feel so good, so alive, so amazing.

Now that the moment of vanity is over, let me tell you a little bit about Mexico City DF.

As we were landing in the city, I could see that this was a place of many, many people, later to find that a whopping 22 million people currently called this place home. From the air, the ant-sized city seemed over crowded, busy and highly concentrated. This didn’t bother me at all, as I thought I knew business, I thought I knew over crowded and overpopulated, but oh my, DF definitely showed me that I knew nothing. I thought Johannesburg had crazy traffic, oh no, no young one, Johannesburg traffic is nothing compared to DF. Peak traffic started at about 15: 30 and ended around 19:30. Coming from the airport at about 19:00 was absolutely manic. Thankfully we were in a big vehicle, where we felt we could trample all over the other little cars if they didn’t get out of the way. (from this you can tell I’m a terrible driver)

DF is about 7200 feet above sea level; therefore the air is extremely dry. When I was told about this big number I didn’t care much because that didn’t mean much to me, until of course I experienced what thin dry air means. My eyes were watering and red for most of the time, my sinuses started playing a game of ‘I hate Akona’ which I’m pretty sure was a lot of fun. My lungs felt like they were going to disintegrate into nothingness and leave me dead, but I’ve come to realize that I’m a rock star. After about three or four days of excruciating pain, I came out of it well and truly appreciating the organs that I have been given as super accessories for my body.

We lived in an area called Districto Historico, very cool, ancient, full of um, history, strange artistic beauty and some entertaining traditional mariachi here and there. A couple of big and beautiful churches, some art galleries, some stalls just off the street where I bought some great earrings – did I tell you how much I love earrings?

When I arrived in DF I discovered that the airline had lost my luggage, oh my what a disaster. I’ve lost luggage only once before, and only for a few hours. It was a domestic flight and the airline was able to return my very valuable and priceless items on the same day. This time it was a long and international flight from Buenos Aires to Mexico City, instead of my clothes and other very important things coming with me, they took a little holiday from their seemingly demanding master and ended up in Sao Paulo, that’s a step ahead from me because that is where I was supposed to go after DF.

So, for the four days that I was without my precious belongings, I had to shop. I don’t mind shopping, but it’s not one of my favorite things to do. Shopping for toiletries wasn’t too bad; the worst part came when I had to find clothing. Oh dear…

As a woman with curves in all the right places, it seemed that my curves were all wrong. I had to try on at least 20 pairs of jeans to find the one that was halfway good enough to fit over my behind. In the T-shirt department I was mortified to find out I was considered a large. What?? Yeah well. I’ve learnt my lesson and hopefully a good travelling tip from now on, carry some underwear and an extra outfit in my hand luggage for each flight.

It was so much fun going out in my new clothes though… Went to the finals of selecting our ninth member of the Smirnoff Ten, or rather soon to be Ten…. Audette- that’s a whole other blog on it’s own, for now, I have to have dinner with Kung- diddy aka DJ dizzy D aka Kung Foo noFighter aka rock lobster.
Oh and remind me to tell you about the trip to the pyramids, where the Smirnoff Eight soon to be ten failed to take a picture of us doing the pyramid….

Buenos Aires Part Two

The tango – the art of body language.

Buenos Aires is the home of the passionate tango and knowing this I wanted to drown myself in all that was tango. So I went to tango lessons, watched a show, listened to live tango music players in the market and danced on the streets. Every minute was priceless.

The tango is a really beautiful dance of passion, love and sensuality and it was awesome to watch and take part in, however, I saw a side of tango that I really never expected. I’ve heard people say jazz is heavy with heart and tango is light with lust, I don’t totally disagree with this except to say that the sadness and heaviness I expect from jazz, was something I saw and heard in the tango.

The movements and the sounds were of love and sensuality, yes, but even more about loneliness and longing. In the dance, the woman has all these sexy and feather-light moves, the man firm and steady. To me she is saying, ‘look at me, I am desirable, I am yours, desire me, want me, please’ and he is saying ‘ Look at me, I’m strong, I can hold you, I can keep you safe and I can let you fly, desire me, need me, want me, please.’

In this dance I saw people longing to be needed, wanting to be wanted, screaming to be accepted, begging to be desired, to be loved, to not be alone. A dance of beauty, of sadness, of love, of lust, of desire, of longing. The story of life. The story of intimacy. The story of love.


Talking about the shopping. I noticed that the fashion sense wasn’t extravagant and refreshingly so. People were somewhat comfortably dressed, even the so-called trendy ones. Hardly saw people dressed top to bottom in big status brands. It was always a good mixture of original personality and individual expression. There weren’t any fads or people wearing the same or similar type trends. Their looks got me very excited to go find my own form of fashion expression. When I shop for clothing I like to find items that’ll either scream the essence of that city or can’t be found anywhere else. Sometimes a simple T can be dressed in a way that is exclusive to you. Big brands and mass production department stores aren’t usually my thing, individuality is key.

The food is Buenos was pretty good, somewhat similar to what I like having at home. One surprise was finding tongue on a restaurant menu. I don’t know a lot of people that love it as much as I do and was glad to see it.
Wait a minute, there were two disappointments!
It was very difficult to find take away food, or light meals on the go. Not a train smash, but I like eating on the go.

The other disappointment is an on going argument with my fellow travelling buddies, none of them agree with me, yet I stand firm on this.
As you may or may not know, Buenos Aires is revered for its steak. Yes, the portions are served large, smell absolutely delicious, look so juicy and taste so wrong.
All four times I tried to have steak it was never exactly as I wanted, medium to well is not bleeding and definitely not hard, dry and close to burnt. Great looking steak isn’t the point, it has to taste just as good.

Well, I walked the city and tried as many things as possible without any regrets except my lack of Spanish. Buenos Aires will always be in my heart.

Buenos Aires – Part One

My walking city – Beautiful Buenos Aires

Buenos Aires to me is a walking city. A place where you will miss out on the texture and vibrance of the city should you spend too much time in the confines of a car, a bus, a hotel room, or hostel dorm. By walking you expose yourself to its love, to its beauty, to its story and most importantly it’s people

The people of BA gave me the welcomed impression of being warm, friendly and inquisitive. Everyone I came across smiled and said a hearty hello. Even though there was a language barrier, it didn’t stop them from being so friendly. Just a smile made a whole world of difference. Being in an unknown city, the people always make the biggest difference for me. People would stop, try chat to me, ask where I am from and offer up priceless information and insights about their home, they would chat as though they had all the time in the world.

The people seemed to carry with them this unmistakeable sense of content. Like their world was just as it should be. Peaceful content. I could see it in the faces of the old ladies walking their dogs, the young couple jogging on the pavement, the shop keeper tending to his wares, the twenty somethings in the coffee shops and it was contagious.

For the short week that we spent there, we lived in a wonderful area called Palermo. I fell absolutely in love with Palermo, with all of its bars and restaurants, corner cafés, markets, and some of the most exquisite clothing stores with items by local designers. Of course, I spent a little bit too much money shopping. I especially loved the market (I wish I could remember the name), which opens on Sundays. It had a huge variety of handbag stalls, earrings, trinkets and antiques to name a few.
Palermo seemed like a district that called out to its inhabitants and sang a song to all, saying ‘You are home’. I felt safe, I felt welcomed and I was at ease. Peace has many shapes and forms, for me it was walking Palermo.

MOSCOW

Moscow

I have been trying, in vain, for the past week to write about the experience in Moscow. For some reason, I seriously couldn’t pop out a single word to describe the four days I spent there, and I still can’t explain why I am blocked when it comes to this city.

Moscow is very different from London, London being my first trip outside of South Africa ever. London, however, has very many similarities to home and I might as well have been another city in South Africa, one that I hadn’t yet managed to visit in my 22 years. Of course there are definite differences and those differences give both Britain and SA character that belongs only to each. Moscow, then, was technically and in a way I hope to be able to explain, my first experience outside my home country. The cultural differences made quite an impact. I had so much to absorb, so much to take in, so much to think about, so much to analyse, so much to accept, so much I didn’t understand. It was in many ways a humbling experience, this whole year is going to be a humbling year with a lot to take in and I guess I realised this in Russia. I might have been overwhelmed.
At this very moment, I still haven’t actually figured out how exactly I feel about it.

So I’m half way down the page and I still haven’t really said much. It seems I am trying to avoid this blog even though I have started, funny. It really is difficult to put down or even express my thoughts and feelings towards Moscow. It is a whole other world and I haven’t quite put my finger on what it is all about. So far, I don’t think I have had this many mixed feelings about a place. I’m a naturally indecisive person and it usually takes me a while absorb and analyse new things. I like to take my time. Sometimes I just want to be sure that I make the right choice, yet here, there is no right or wrong. The way you feel is the way you feel, what you think is exactly that - your thoughts and opinions. (I wonder - does a thought only become an opinion once expressed?)

What might have had me even more lost was the fact that the Moscow I saw and the Moscow I had imagined were nothing alike. It was as though I had imagined the most extreme north and what I actually experienced was an extreme south. There were no similarities at all. I wish I knew how my mind let me go so far from the truth?

What I thought I would see in Moscow, as I have mentioned, is the opposite of what I actually did see. In a way, I was a bit sceptical that we were being taken there in the first place, what on earth were we supposed to do there? Wouldn’t it be dead? Oh well, you find originality in the most unexpected places and what one expects might not be the case, as I found out, so the point is to do everything with an open mind and never stop seeking originality, seek the unusual and make the most out of even the simple.

To begin, the next few sentences are jam-packed with pure ignorance, ignorance I am ashamed to admit, however, I will continue. Moscow and probably the whole of Russia in my mind was a place that for the most part was covered in pure white snow, weather so cold that the breathe coming out of my nostrils would freeze, and made to succumb to the all powerful force of gravity and fall to the ground, a soft pillow of snow. I wonder if I considered hypothermia and losing my body parts due to the low temperature. That would have been a funny story…

My image of Russia was of a war torn country, a country ravaged by brutality that was fuelled by the patriotism of people loyal to their country. Images of aged tanks; larger than life, parked on the side of a quiet street for all of eternity, soldiers carrying firearms patrolling fenced areas and dark streets. I thought I was would see a nation of sad and broken people with no life in their eyes, probably old women covering their unconditioned hair with autumn pallet scarves, dressed in layers upon layers of dreary grey clothing.

So I was in Moscow, a city I knew very little about except for the fact that it is in Russia, one of the biggest countries in the world. Was it a war-ridden country of angry gun-wielding beings who were stuck in a system they could not escape? Would I see buildings that no longer looked the way they were made to look. Would the military trucks, left to rot, be parked on the side of the road or the middle? At this point I will admit that I really knew nothing about the city we were about to attend an original party in, a city where the story of Smirnoff journey began.


What I did see was the centre of Moscow, the heart of the city so to speak, a vibrant place, rich in colour and screaming wealth and the need to be prestigious. I saw beautiful women, with confidence second to none I had ever seen before, with delicate mannerisms, gorgeous well-dressed bodies. There were developments happening, business districts, high rise buildings, plush hotels, bustling shopping areas and some of the worlds biggest and priciest cars, concept and luxury vehicles. The architecture was detailed and expressive in ways I had never been exposed to before.
I was exposed to a history so majestic I was embarrassed to think about the little or non-existent knowledge I had of this city. I was surprised and enjoyed the first day before the initial novelty wore off and I began to notice things below the surface.

The party scene was an interesting experience. During the limited time we were able to visit a club called Vodka Bar. Wouldn’t be able to tell you exactly where it is in Moscow, but it is somewhere there. The club itself was easy on the eye, not too much going on in terms of décor, but comfortably so. After coat check, you walk into a jaw dropping show of choreographed dancers on a raised platform above the bar area. The first of the dancers was a group of three people; two tall and very well built men, with a short and very energetic woman. Every muscle on each of their bodies was so well defined, they seemed to have been sculpted. Their show was crazy, the guys throwing this miniature lady up on the air followed by a couple somersaults and moves that would probably leave me paralysed. The next dancer we saw was a tall blonde woman with legs that go from here to Timbuktu, dressed in leather and chain getup with neck breaking high heels. As she was jiving out of beat to the music, the barmen started their entertaining thing of juggling bottles Tom Cruise style, ending off with an amazing fire blowing stunt which lit up the edges of the raised platform where the tall blonde was trying to find the rhythm. At first I was a bit scared that we would all burn alive in this club, after a short while realised that this was all part of the act and it helped to put less focus on the blondes two left feet antics.

All in all, Moscow surprised me in many ways, one of them being their general sense that they weren’t a people that were very open to letting outsiders in. Seemed as though the people were set in their ways, liked things just the way they were used to and those that were not part of it.

I would like to visit again, see the hidden parts of the city, experience more of the nightlife and enjoy being a celebrity.

Blog 3

I’m supposed to be writing a blog about my experiences, I’m sitting at the desk in a room, surrounded by some amazing people on the eve of the beginning of the best year of our lives. I am overwhelmed. I have nothing. But here I go, telling you about whatever is going on in my mind.

I have no sense of time, I just realised that a moment ago when I was trying to figure out how long this whole process has taken. From the moment I dreamt that I might have a chance to travel the world to the point where I was sitting around a cosy dinner table with seven of the best from round the world just a few nights ago as we had a beautiful meal together. All feeling blessed.

It must have started in my bed at about two am one late night/early morning. After having had an extremely long day, a norm in advertising, I was unable to sleep that night and all I was imagining were the possibilities that might be. I had done the first audition and video challenge for the Smirnoff Experience contest, and it had been a couple days later and I couldn’t get the images out of head. The clear blue beaches of Malaysia, the energy and intensity of Brazil, the history of England, the sky over a desert, the spices of India and the essence of South Africa I would explore and share during the travels and the search for more. I could even taste the air filled with the freedom of living. Living life to the fullest and making sure every single moment was the making of a masterpiece.

Can you imagine escaping your comfort zone? Exploring the unknown without fear and doubt. Can you imagine letting your soul run wild and free of convention. Can you imagine feeling like you are blessed? Can you imagine having a moment with some of the greatest makings of the universe? The thoughts became a desire I knew I was alive only to make real. For the first time ever, I was in love with my long and loyal friend called insomnia. Insomnia allowed my imagination to create images I required to feel alive; I could lie there comfortably with my thoughts for as long as I wanted to. This was definitely what I was made to be. The ‘this’ I speak of is being an explorer. Searching for originality. Searching for experiences that make life all the more interesting. Searching endlessly for the best moments, furthermore, given the chance to live those moments I had been searching for. Moments of pure happiness.

A few days of welcomed sleepless nights were catapulted into days of anxiety with excitement and disbelief when I got that special call telling me I was going to the week long – and sure to be rigorous – London selection. This week was going to be a break it or make it week for me. Two South Africans were to pack up their things, as if going away for year, and get onto an airplane and say goodbye to all they knew and be ready to learn a whole lot more about everything. (Which means, out of a couple hundred beautiful and brilliant South Africans, I was one of two going to the finals)

There is something about being loved that gives you irreplaceable comfort. When you have more people than you imagined letting that soothing love flow freely from them to you. People whose love I had either taken for granted or chose to believe existed were here showing me so much love. The support and the faith they offered gave me the safety and warmth only babies feel in their mother’s womb. The gratitude I now feel makes me feel like I could burst. One of my favourite quotes is by John Updike and he says, ‘Dreams do come true, without that possibility, nature would not incite us to have them.’

I was now, a week away from the beginning of the rest of my life. I had a fifty percent chance of engraving my name on the golden key to a million doors and I could be admitted into the university of life and experience. I was a week away from opening my eyes and letting the glory of the universe in. All I had to do was keep believing in myself and annihilate the competition.

Saying goodbye was the strangest and most surreal moment of my life. Actually, it was more than one moment; it might have been over a hundred times. Everything I knew and had come to love. Everything I wanted to get away from. Everything I wanted to keep close to me. Everything I thought I knew. At some point during the endless goodbyes, I had an intense conversation with my better half who was in shock that I was leaving. My response surprised even me, but every sound and syllable was true to its very purpose. I wasn’t leaving, I was living!

There is a line in the movie American Beauty that has touched me immensely – ‘Sometimes there is so much beauty in the world, I feel I can’t take it, like my heart is gonna burst.’ How could I consider not experiencing the world? Would it be fair to the world’s creator to have made so much beauty and not every inch of it explored?

I realised from the very beginning that this opportunity was going to be filled with millions of firsts. Starting with my first international flight. My first long flight. My first stamp in my passport. My first trip outside the borders of my South Africa. Every second of those first few firsts felt right and it was as though I had space in me to absorb it all because I now had to learn to take in as much as possible and pick up things that most people may not see, feel, touch, hear or taste.

The London selection week was emotional, rigorous and nerve wrecking as I had imagined, with many surprises. Every single one of the people I met, who had the same drive and desire as I did to win, were so wonderful. I was surprised that we created bonds so powerful in such a short space of time. Had I gone home, I would have gone home having taken more out of the week than I would have thought. The week on its own was an experience I will never forget.

We moved into a house somewhere in London the day after the announcement, eight of the chosen people, still reeling from excitement and disbelief that we were now going to live our most unimaginable dreams.

So just a few days ago, we were sitting around our dining room table, feeling blessed and loved. A month ago, we knew nothing about each other, now there we were sharing a meal with people we cared so deeply for, people who had now become a brand spanking new and perfect family. On the eve of the beginning of our original adventures, I still had no sense of time, and it was perfectly fine. Happiness lives in moments, moments made up of our clearest desires and the force of faith.

A few beautiful hours in London

Another 24hrs in London. Learnt a lot more about this city, and I’m sure there is more to come. This place is huge. London has something for everyone. No matter who you are, whatever you’re into, this amazing city has something to offer you.

Ended our night off by going to The End. That’s not as hectic as it sounds; we just went to a club called The End.
Cute CT boy Ty, his friend and myself decided to see more of the city and party with some of its people, at that moment all roads led to The End.
It was a few minutes walk to get there; we stood in line outside waiting to get in. I don’t have a watch so I don’t know what time it was. I’m actually enjoying not having a phone and a watch to tell the time, there’s a certain freedom to that. Stood in line and had time to observe my surroundings and take in what was going on.

One of the things I noticed was the guys – sort of young looking but seemingly over 18, all wearing very tight pants. Tight all the way to their ankles, I didn’t know they made skinny jeans for guys. That was really weird. Most of them had long hair; for some people that looks sexy, but some people it just looks like you’re dirty and don’t wash, some people pull of the ‘I’m cool and I do what I want’ look. Anyway, most of the chicks were wearing stockings with mini skirts or socks, and here is something that boggles my mind – if you are cold then wear long pants, if you want to show off your sexy legs – take off the stockings! Most of the people were dressed more or less the same, and all at the same time going for an ‘I’m cooler than you’ kinda thing. All good, let’s just get into the club already!

So the first bouncer asked for our ID’s. I was very tempted to pull the ‘how old do I look? With an attitude thing’ but thought otherwise. After all I am in a foreign place and I don’t know what bouncers are like here.
So I pull my very recent drivers license, which hasn’t really been touched by a lot of people, and I allowed him to take its virginity so to speak. My brand spanking new license was ‘touched like a virgin’ ha ha ha some Madonna there. Hey, I am in Britain right. We made a couple jokes about not being from around here and that the bouncer might not be able to read our ID’s properly. Stupid jokes I know, but sometimes you have to make small talk, you never know who you’ll need favours from. He said something about Japanese ID’s being the hardest to read. I’ve never seen a non SA drivers license, so, whatever!

My bag was searched, not peeped into to check I didn’t have a firearm. My bag was almost stripped of all its contents in search of whatever they were looking for. No problem, just strange that the guys weren’t being searched at all. At home, women usually walk right in with these huge handbags that might be carrying AK47’s and grenades and whatever else, and guys get searched like their pockets have houses hidden in there somewhere. (Cartoon style)

Finally we got into this place, and bid a sad goodbye to a whole £3 (x14 to get rands = R42) music I couldn’t quite understand, but then again this whole trip is about experiencing the unknown. Walked around a bit. Suddenly there were people on a stage that I hadn’t seen being erected but was suddenly there. This band had some huge masks on, so couldn’t see their faces. I was looking at the lead singer with a body of a man, and the voice of a woman. Can’t be too sure there. They played for a little bit then we went to the bar to get drinks
After about 20 minutes of waiting we resigned ourselves to the fact that this was a futile exercise – three barmen with about 50 people waiting to be served.
We left and decided to call it a night.

What I learnt there, which was extremely strange, was that you are not allowed to smoke anywhere indoors. Cool that law is almost universal but London has decided to take it a step further, you can’t smoke in clubs or pubs or restaurants. No, there aren’t designated areas with an extractor fan. No smoking inside a building;
I could handle that, but I realised that my body couldn’t. There is something a little too clean about being in a club packed with people and no cigarette smoke. It was a weird sensation all together. I’m so used to ciggie smoke all around me that I couldn’t understand being able to see clearly in a club. They might as well have switched on the lights and put on a television for us to watch prison break while sipping on our drinks, (or not sipping on anything because of the car situation)

Went home, smelling like normal, no smoke in my clothes, nothing. A club has this wonderful fusion of scents that you must leave with if it’s been a good night. It’s a mixture of booze, smoke, colognes and perfumes, a little sweat with hints of the passion you danced with, the desire in the air, the electric energy, the atmosphere of pure fun and the search for mischief and escapism. I left that place with nothing. Not a single remnant of what I just walked out of. Yes, I could call the scent urban energy, because that’s exactly what it is. There was none of that on that night. Oh well, no regrets, I got to see a little bit of London nightlife. There is so much more to come and I can’t wait. I want to see and experience it all. The good, the bad and the ugly

My first night in London was interesting, slept like a baby and woke up on Tuesday 09.11 at 11am feeling super refreshed. Okay that’s the bad part about not having an alarm clock, watch or phone - might not wake up early as usual.

First Day in London

Well I made it.
It was an awesome trip here and there is just so much to do…

My flight was at 23:40 on Sunday evening, met the Smirnoff team and the other guy from South Africa. His name is Tyron and man he’s cute. Got these eyes that only Cape Town guys can have. Took loads of publicity pictures, exchanged ZA Rands into that expensive British currency. My daddy and sister took me to the airport - that was really emotional. I don’t how they didn’t cry. (Miss you daddy)

The international departures section of OR Tambo needs some serious revamping. It’s weird but huuuuuge. The air conditioning needs to be looked at too. I say this because I’d never been to that section of the airport before, yes, that means I’d never left SA before, not even by other means of transport

Now back to the travelling bit, where was I? Oh yes, the team (Mel and the camera peeps) left us to our own devices to make our way to the UK and find our way to the place where we are staying for the week. So we checked in, waited for what seemed like forever and then finally made it onto the flight.
It’s a crap feeling walking past the 1st class section on your way to economy for a rather long flight. I think they should make a whole separate entrance for 1st class - one where we mere mortals on a budget don’t have to imagine how happy and spoilt the other people are and how they’ll be pampered every second of the 10 or so hours.

Cute CT boy and I weren’t sitting together, he was in the row in front of me, this was saddening because we’d already kinda clicked, or at the very least able to carry a conversation between us. Plus I need to get to know him considering he is my competition. He’s a nice guy though, no matter what, and he seems to want to win as much as I do. Competition that’s worthy is good.

I thought I’d soak in all the cool and wonderful things about long flights in big planes, but as soon as the Boeing’s wheels were off the tarmac I was out like a light. Surprisingly I woke up at the moment the food was being served. I don’t know how long after we’d departed we were served, but by that time, I’d had a good power nap. The excitement plus the preparation for my big day was overwhelming. I was seeing red when the hostess said they’d run out of the chicken meal and the other option was fish. I don’t eat seafood if there isn’t an ocean nearby, and airplane food no matter what they say, hasn’t been alive for at least two weeks, so fresh isn’t a selling point. No worries, I had to eat any way. So I did.
Shortly after that, dreamland was calling, so I diligently succumbed to the calling. Slept for a very long time I believe, because the next moment the sun was up and we were an hour and a half from the Charles De something airport in Paris. We were served a light breakfast and landed soon thereafter.

Wow, the view from the air of another city was remarkable. Seeing the little cars and the little buildings and the little swimming pools and the little ant looking people. I was on another continent and I was so amazed. I had really left SA.

Got to Paris airport, didn’t really know where to go. Tyron (cute ct boy) had to get his luggage but they wouldn’t let us out of this particular section of the airport – no visas. Not even allowed outside for fresh air – sorry you’re an alien, go away.
This wonderful, extremely beautiful, tall, caramel-chocolate-skinned airport lady helped us find our way a bit. Even before we opened our mouths she said she could tell we were from 'sous africha'. She was too beautiful to laugh at her – sous africha. Anyway….

Left Paris for London at 12:00, an hour and a half later we were at Heathrow airport – time now 12:30 hmmm. Tyron’s luggage was left in Paris. These things do happen, but it’s just not cool. So he was kinda miffed, I would be too if I didn’t have my toothbrush and fresh undies to change after 24 hours en route to another continent. Oh I almost forgot; Paris airport has the strictest security ever!!!!!! They check errrthing, and I mean errrthang!

Oooh ooh, here’s comes the cool part – we got onto the London underground, so exciting, bought our one-way ticket for four pounds (too much Rands) from a lady with a proper, proper British accent. I seriously thought that the accent was exaggerated on TV and movies, and here she was doing it and doing it and doing it.
Tube took us about 40 minutes to get to this place, wherever it is we are. Oh my gosh, the outdoor advertising - so much of it. The bus branding is super tight and the way they use the spaces in the underground is fabulous. I really want to see more of that. Finally, I can look at advertising as a consumer.

Arrived at our new home, got settled in, and walked. Walked on Oxford Street and other big and small streets. All the way with our jaws dragging on the floor in awe of our surroundings. The clothing shops, the shoe shops, the book shops, everything is just so amazing. The not so amazing part is when you look at something priced at ten pounds, - mentally calculate the rand pound exchange rate and you kinda come back to reality. All the shops are huge. Big. Absolutely gigantic. With so much stuff to touch, see, smell, try on, read, and listen to.
Both Tyron and I didn’t have toothpaste; him because of his luggage being misplaced and me because I didn’t pack it. So one of our stops was to a toiletry shop. We bought the cheapest one at 2 for one pound fifty and that was a tough buy. Toothpaste is R6 right? We bought two for R21. Ouch. But some things are cool. Had a fabulous ciabatta sandwich for about three pounds sixty. (Times 14 to get the ZAR rate)

Can’t wait for tomorrow. For now, cute CT boy and I are the first ones in London so far, the rest arrive tomorrow and Wednesday. This has been so wonderful so far.

‘Dreams do come true, if it weren’t for that possibility, nature would not incite us to have them’ J Updike.

Gotta go now, more to see. Oh, the sun only went down about an hour ago – 7:30ish. The weather is warm and beautiful. I’m really glad I’ve taken this chance. Cross fingers.