Smirnoff Experience – Food and Language

Before this world tour began for me, I went through all the possibilities and experiences that the tour might entail. The flights, the places, the weather, the parties, the production, the people, the drinks, the music and the different foods etc.

Something I didn’t really pay much mind to, didn’t especially consider, was the language. I was going to visit all these different countries, dance to music I’d probably never heard before, be exposed to cultures different from my own home country, food I’d never tasted before, and the different nightlife. Language was something I stupidly didn’t really think about. So far I’ve been exposed to Russian in Moscow, Spanish, the Argentinean version, Spanish, the Mexican version and Portuguese in Brazil. Hmmm. And there are so many more to come.

Don’t know about you, but I’ve never experienced these languages for more than an hour in my entire life. Now imagine trying to converse in any a language you’ve never spoken before, not talking about the weather, not just saying hello, asking how are you? Or asking a cab driver to drop you off somewhere, these are somewhat easy enough. The difficulty is simply ordering food, a basic human need. Why didn’t I just get a dictionary or language guide? Well this might be the solution, but do they have menus in there?

A few funny experiences while trying to feed myself:

Moscow.
One night at about 2am Kung, John and I took a walk in search for food on the main busy street in Moscow. At that time of the night/morning, not much is available except for, as we discovered, street food. In that case, street food is sold in these ice-cream van looking structures, branded with the name of the ‘establishment’ (in Russian of course) on the outside with some photoshopped pictures of the available food.
Thank goodness for pictures. Each van, usually about 50 meters or so apart had a selection of about 20 food items (in Russian) on the menu and if you’re lucky about 5 pics.
This is where I learnt the valuable point, smile and nod enthusiastically manoeuvre, which would hopefully get you something delicious. If the retouched pictures weren’t doing it for you, then you move on to the Russian menu phase, a little bit more difficult… pick the friendliest looking words off the menu, don’t try pronunciation and wait and see what the words mean after paying and walking away with your food. Sometime we were lucky, other times, well, that’s a whole other story.

In Buenos Aires I started to learn the language, not exactly actually, I found out that chicken is pollo. You can’t go wrong with chicken; pity I didn’t learn what deep-fried is in Spanish. Another great word is fritas, as in papas fritas, potato chips to go with the not deep fried chicken. The rest of the time was a guessing game of picking the prettiest words on the menu. The same sort of rules applied in Mexico City.

Portuguese is one the sexiest yet most difficult languages I have thus far come across. I hear it and my brain does goes dead. Nothing connects. I hear nothing, I understand almost nothing, yet it all sounds so good. The food in Sao Paulo was so good I didn’t mind picking any words off the menu, and something I learnt late was that sometimes restaurants have English menus.

I feel so ignorant not being able to converse in these languages, but I will learn, for my stomach’s sake.

Sydney, first week, quick update:

I’m finally awake and can actually keep my eyes open for more than three hours at a time. I had my first, and hopefully, last bout of jet lag. I was so excited to be in Australia at first, but soon I was in dreamland. Anyway, I’m back, alive and ready to see it all.

We got our schedule for the next few weeks, events to attend, tasks during our time, and our brief for the content from this country and schedule for media profiling. The first one is a cool music and party scene guide called 3d magazine.

Since I was with the group that arrived a few days later than the others, we missed a photo op to be in a local newspaper. We were mentioned and the story was nice, it would have been nice to have my face in the paper too. No worries though, there will be so much more.

As part of our task, we will be attending some events that Time Out Sydney magazine would like us to write reviews for towards the end of our stay in Australia, and I’ll definitely be telling you all about it.

I’m very keen to see what the biggest island and smallest continent has to offer.

Jet lagged, but must write:

We’ve just arrived in Sydney Australia, from what I could see from our ride from the airport is that this city has more to it than the eye can see, which is probably true for every city. Knowing that, I’m inspired to explore as much as I can and get as much out of it as possible.

I’ve gone forward about nine hours, this is my first jet lag experience. It’s interesting; I can’t really explain. My body feels a bit like it’s floating, probably the floating in the air at incredible speed. I feel sort of numb, my eyes are heavy but I’m refusing to be tired.

I won’t be winning this battle, must sleep, my bed has cordially invited me to visit.
It won’t be for too long, I have things to do out there.
I wonder if I’ll see kangaroos and koalas.

Goodbye for the second time

It’s Dec 10 2007, I’m at the airport again, reflecting.
It was so much harder to say goodbye the second time.
The first time, in Sept, exactly three months ago, I was leaving for London to attend selection week and I was so buzzing with excitement that I didn’t really think about the length of the trip.

This time though, I’m still very excited about the rest of the year ahead.
There is so much more to do and see, I’m looking forward to every minute of it
I’m a little sad though. Maybe because I had a hectic three weeks of replenishing myself with everything I missed during the first months of the Experience and now it’s over.
I’m saying goodbye again.

If you’ve ever had to say goodbye to something or someone, then I think you can understand. It is heart wrenching. But what do you do when you are sad and happy at the same time. It’s weird. I feel so blessed to be on this tour, yet the scents, sights and sounds of home are still so fresh in mind and the fact that I won’t have any of that for the next nine months hurts a bit.
I had gotten used to being away, and now I’m starting all over with the missing business.

I guess it comes with the territory.
I love this territory. This is the best thing to ever happen to any human being.

Missed my flight

I must have been praying too hard or something, but it worked and I was so happy.
Kung, Ania, Audette and I had to fly to Australia later than the rest of the team. That meant we had four extra days in my home city, Jozi, and it was perfect. They would have more time to explore and I would have more time with my family and friends. Wow.

On Thursday afternoon, the day after we had the farewell braai, the rest of the group was packed up, sad and ready to go. It was raining, but not cold and the rain mirrored the mood, as we were going to be split. Okay, I was a little sad too but much more excited and grateful for the extra time.
Once we’d said our goodbyes, I spent the rest of the day with my boyfriend, driving around the city and seeing as much as I could in that one day. Later we went to an album listening session at a studio in town. It was my first experience of such a thing and I really enjoyed it. It was a small group of invited guests and the artists in a relaxed space listening to music, sipping on cocktails and just having good time. I definitely want to do more of that, it’s a good way to make contacts and also pick peoples brains. I love engaging with creative people and exploring their passion and expression.

Friday evening, I was invited to a monthly music event in central Jozi, Newtown. I went along with Kung, picked him up from the hotel and he got to experience my driving. He was speechless. It just felt so good to be in driver’s seat again after such a long time, I thought I would have forgotten.
The event is called the Edgars Music Series, a small concert that happens every once in a while at a venue called the Bassline. Bassline is a celebrated venue in the music community. It housed some of South Africa’s Jazz greats in its time and a place known for only the best quality live music. It has a huge basement section where the stage, seating and dance area is, upstairs is a VIP lounge area where you can mingle with friends and still hear the music. On that wonderful Friday night I got to see live the music I missed so much. It was mainly Kwaito artists performing, Brickz and Zola being the highlights. Later a DJ comes through to finish off the night with some house for the party animals to continue into the early hours.
Once the performances were done, Kung and I went a club called Capitol. On Friday nights they have urban house night with DJ Vinnie da Vinci and some other guest DJ’s. The club night is called Capitol Underground. The crowd is always classy and cool. Kung isn’t that much into house music, but he enjoyed himself and so did I.

Saturday was spent with my sister, shopping and visiting some of my friends. We had a good session bonding. I really miss her a lot and it was nice to catch up on the happenings in her life. She passed her Matric year and is starting university in ‘08. I’m so proud of her; she’s growing up to be a beautiful young lady with a lot of potential.

Sunday I drove to Pretoria to have Sunday lunch at my dad’s girlfriend’s house. I’d never been there before; I don’t like driving the 60 km’s to Pretoria. That 40-minute drive gets a bit boring for me and I don’t really know many people in the city to visit it much.
Home cooked food was so fulfilling and being around family was such a blessing. My dad was asking me all these questions about the tour, filling in the gaps I’d left out of my update emails and calls, and I got to chat to him for a long while. He also took a moment to check what the matter with my car was; turns out I forgot to put oil in it. I wish it wasn’t such high maintenance. I guess it’s what you get for driving an old car.

Monday, the day we had to leave was spent rushing around the city saying final, final goodbyes and packing. I had to also get rid of a lot of stuff in my luggage, it was way too heavy. It still is. But that’s okay.

I loved being home.
So Sydney next, for Christmas and New years.

All good things come in three’s.

All good things come in three’s, or so they say. I haven’t as yet put this theory to the test, however for this particular blog post I think it works.

Obviously it was good being back in my home city, to all things familiar, eating my favourite food, like my dad’s dumplings and stew, seeing the brilliance of Jozi lights, the cities glamour, the fast pace I lived for, the traffic I hated, the people and dynamics I missed so much. It was even better being in my favourite city in the world, Cape Town, with its mountain, ocean and overall relaxed pace it is better known for. It was great being with my friends, my ex colleagues, my family, catching up on the happenings of life without me; and meeting new people who have been following the program. It was such an emotional moment when I had my first conversation in my mother tongue, Xhosa, with my dad and looking at him instead of on the phone.

All these things really filled me up with happiness and it was a lot of fun trying to cram everything I missed and everything I had been craving while away into the short two and a half weeks we were in South Africa. So this is an account of some of the highlights, or rather three of the best nights during our stay.

Cape Town – Smirnoff and MTV Division 7 Party:
The party was held at The Old Biscuit Mill in an area called Woodstock. The space is a favourite amongst exhibitors of all sorts and fashion shows. It’s an old warehouse space that’s very versatile and can be turned into anything one’s imagination declares. For this party the theme was army boot camp style, with camouflage all over the place, tastefully of course, huge bouncers dressed up as colonels or whatever, the Smirnoff hostess’s in cute but authoritative outfits in the same theme. As I walked in, the world outside disappeared and I was in an army camp; leafy camouflage on the ceiling that looked so real, some of the seats were brown military equipment boxes and everything was quite authentic, the space was wonderfully decorated and the atmosphere was awesome. Even the invitation had a badge of sorts emblazoned on it.

One of South Africa’s legendary DJ’s, Ready D, played a pumping set of house, (I really missed house music with the South African flavor). There were about four DJ’s keeping us all in the groove and everyone on the dance floor with a mix of house, hip hop and RnB and Kwaito.
I was most excited for the Smirnoff Ten to experience their first taste of how South Africans party and it turned out amazing. Everyone had a really good time, I got to introduce a portion of my friends to the team and we all had fun together.

Johannesburg – Smirnoff Ten Party, Akona welcoming the team to South Africa.
This was the official party to welcome the Smirnoff Ten into the country, and for the most part a media-profiling event. Over a month or so before the event a competition was also run for 30 lucky South Africans to win tickets to attend the event and meet The Smirnoff Ten. There were photographers and journalists from various media, Radio and TV personalities and the social butterflies of the Jozi and of course us; Ania, Audette, Luiza. Stephanie, Ben, Kareem, John, Kung, Takashi and me.

Side note: I was fashionably late, not on purpose, but it worked out so well. I had driven into an unfamiliar side of town trying to take a shortcut and gotten miserably lost. I stopped to ask some traffic cops where on earth I was and the names of the roads they were telling me did not sound like anything I’d ever heard before. I called my boyfriend to find out if he knew where I was, by the way, I was relaying all this information through a waterfall of tears, weeping and wailing. It took a good fifteen minutes to calm me down. Then, my car wouldn’t start!!!!!! As you can imagine, I freaked out for a little while longer. Miraculously it started and I was on my way. When I finally arrived about 4 minutes later, everyone was there and I felt so special, I was the only missing link to the puzzle and the party got started. So cool.

The party was held in a historically integral location in South Africa’s democracy. The township of Soweto; this is one of the many townships of South Africa where black people were relocated during the apartheid era.

It started out as a sunset cocktail party, Soweto is said to have one the most unexpectedly beautiful sunsets. Watching the deep orange sun disappear into the horizon behind the small houses of the township, Soweto; a place with so much history and an amazing story to tell is really breathtaking.
Once the daylight had gone, we moved from outside lounge area into the hall and then the party turned up a notch with some dancing and mingling. I had to make a speech and introduce the team to the guests. It was nerve wrecking, but good. I was extremely nervous; feedback was that I pulled it off pretty well though.
The party was really good, lots of people, good music, awesome soul food, cool cocktails and lots of interviews. My friends were there and it was really nice to see and how proud of me they are. A great time was had by all and the Smirnoff Ten got to once again experience the warmth and friendliness of South Africans.

Johannesburg - The Braai:
Finally, the more personal and private party; my braai took place the day before we were to leave. It was going to be a chilled out farewell party out in the open.
A braai is a traditional South African barbeque. Meat on the grill, salads, breads and chilled drinks, lounge music, out in the garden on a cool evening under the star lit sky, all in all an amazing and relaxed night.
We chilled out on beanbags, chatting away with a beautiful meal and good company. Most of my friends were there, my dad, my little sister, some radio personalities and DJ’s. It was a farewell to be remembered. I loved it.

It was great being home
It was so hard to say goodbye, for the second time, but at least I got to see my nearest and dearest.
It was very nice to show the team my home and I’m glad they all had an amazing time.

There is no place like home.

First stop, the mother city, Cape Town. I have so been looking forward to showing the team my beautiful home country, with its landscapes, passion, pride, beauty and diversity.
Through the grapevine and other means I learned that some team members were a little scared to visit Mzansi. Of course this was hurtful to hear, but reading up in various media, what is portrayed is horrendous. Some websites still speak of apartheid not only in a dismissive manner, but some sites make it seem as though South Africa is a country of raging war, violence and extreme racism. I’m not going to ignore or even justify the past turbulence, one just has to experience South Africa without preconceived ideas. The misunderstanding is not exclusive to South Africa, or even the entire African continent. Media and even ex-residents maliciously misrepresent a lot of countries.
I try, with every place I have visited and will visit, go in with an open mind, explore the place and let it show me its story.

Back to the lighter side of this rambling.
Cape Town has always held a special place in my heart, it’s always going to be here a place I love the most. When I was nineteen, with R1000 between me and somewhat poverty I relocated on a whim. Knowing no one and without a thought out plan, I made this city my new home and I was welcomed with open arms.

Cape Town, with its magnificent landmarks such as well known Table Mountain, ice cold beaches, warm and friendly people, a cosmopolitan mix of old and new, European and African brought together beautifully, Cape Town is a one in a million kinda city and I love it.

Driving on highway and seeing the different faces in the cars, I’d almost forgotten how much pleasure that the diversity of this country brought me. The different accents, cultures, ethnicities and tribes, the food, the music, the history and future of a place with such a young democracy, the creativity and the passion, the warmth, happiness and the pride of the people of Azania, there really is no place like home.
Time and time again, I think about how lucky I am being a South African, this tour teaches me everyday to appreciate everything I have.

On the radio today I heard some of my favourite South African artists. It made me so happy I almost cried, South African music I had so missed.

It’ll be a while before I see my family and my wonderful boyfriend because they live in Johannesburg, I don’t mind, at least I am spending the time in my favourite city.

I hope the team has a great time and that the content we create reflects that. S.A. is a wonderful place and almost impossible to get bored.

I’m going home

Monday morning, the long awaited 19th day of November. Today is the day I go home. Today is the day I will once again put my feet on African soil, feel the warm rays of the African sun on my skin. It’s actually going to be tomorrow after nine hours in the air, I was trying to be poetic.

Every minute, my emotions change and alternate between being sad because I’m leaving Brazil, the warm and beautiful people of Sao Paulo, the vibrance and passion I felt every second I was there. Then I’m excited about going to awesome, vibrant and colourful South Africa. Sadness, excitement… either way I’m packed and ready to go to the airport…

We’ve just arrived at yet another airport, that familiar place I’ve come to call my second home with all this travelling. Immigration forms, passport and e-ticket all within easy reach, correct hand luggage weight, and as always over weight check in luggage. Then again who can travel the world for a whole year carrying just 20kg. My shoes and toiletries alone come to 10kg. Oh well, big smile, bat eyelids and hope for the best.

Luiza’s family has come to say goodbye, it’s so heart wrenching, reminds me of my farewell a few months ago. Everyone is crying and hugging each other, wishing us all well.
It’s time to say the final goodbye as our flight is boarding now.

Nothing could have been better than the moment I went up the boarding steps of the airplane, the big SAA logo on the outside with all the colours of our national flag. As I reached the top, saw a warm smile from a short lady whose name could only have been South African, Thando, loosely translated means love. As I walked down the isle to my seat, I was singing quietly to myself the South African anthem.
The icing on the cake, over the P.A. system, as clear as day I could here one of the common accents I missed, the captain was speaking in his Afrikaans accent, I laughed out load realising how much I missed the little things about my country.
I turned around to Ben who was sitting a few rows behind and said, with a huge smile on my face, Mozart couldn’t make a sound so beautiful.

I’ve calmed down from my glee and excited frenzy, we’ve just had dinner and I’m sipping on my rooibos tea. I’m about to fall asleep and dream of home.

I wonder what my first South African meal will be, I wonder what my first word in my home language Xhosa will be, I wonder who I’ll see first.

First day of Sao Paulo

My legs are sore, my head is light, my eyes are trying to absorb what’s going on. I’m in another country, my hair (as short as it may be) is a mess, my skin is super dry, my clothes are wrinkled and I’m dirty. My teeth need to be cleaned, my feet need to be soaked in warm water and massaged back to life. I’m a little groggy and disorientated, I have too many things in my hands and I’m hungry. Oh yes, that wonderful and familiar few minutes after getting off a long flight.
Mexico City to Sao Paulo, more than the number of hours one is supposed to spend sleeping a night.

It’s been a few hours since arriving in Brazil, so far it’s not quite as I imagined, yet also surprisingly interesting. It looked normal; it looked like a normal functional city. This means there will be a lot to find and uncover.

At the airport we walked outside the terminal and were hit by an unexpected and very welcomed wave of comfortable humidity. My first thought was finally I’m about to sweat. Since starting the trip, bar Moscow, all the cities have been cold and sometimes wet. It was so amazing to feel the heat, and to feel it in Brazil.

I’m no celebrity, but this next bit is all about how much like a celebrity I was treated. We were superstars, even if for a moment. Rockstars baby. From around the corner, the most unanticipated thing happened. Two beautifully branded mini buses came towards us, parked, and while our mouths were on the floor, a gentleman looked right at us and opened the doors saying ‘Welcome Smirnoff Team’. This is when I went crazy, jumped up and down, fumbled in my handbag for my camera, babbled something or another about ‘oh my god oh my god’. Okay, at this point you should know that I should never become a celebrity; I will most definitely make a fool of myself. The mini buses had Smirnoff Experience branding all over, the big silver superstar globe, some Portuguese writing which I think meant 10 people from 10 countries discovering the world through original experiences. At this point my jaw was the floor and I was getting ready to flash a smile to capture the moment in front of our buses. Rock stardom here we are.
Once the euphoria had settled, we jumped into the air-conditioned vehicle, our luggage had a whole mini bus of course, and dived right into the manic Sao Paulo traffic. It took about an hour or so to get to our hotel, oh I mean our surprise stop before getting to our hotel. A surprise stop to meet the 10 finalists from Brazil vying for the number 10 spot to complete the Smirnoff Ten.

Driving from the airport to wherever it was were meant to be, the most interesting and thought provoking part of the traffic ridden ride was seeing the barrios. The section of the poorer areas in Sao Paulo. Little shacks built almost on top of each other, dusty and sometimes muddy gravel roads snaking in between the zinc and cardboard houses. This reminded me a bit of the squatter camps in some parts of South Africa. Some parts would be like townships, which some people refer to as the ghetto but not quite the same thing.

In South Africa we’d have the squatter camps on the outskirts of the city, very similar to the barrios I saw in Sao Paulo, little shacks made of various materials including cardboard, pieces of found wooden planks, zinc (looks like thick aluminium), no real roads or infrastructure, usually tough to get running water and electricity. (Then there are the townships, which will be explained in another blog about South Africa)

Sao Paulo is similar to Johannesburg to me, a city of contrasts and stories. The poor, the rich, all out in the open, the diversity, the escapism, the realness and hardship, the grittiness and grime, the beauty and elegance, the status of being a city of financial leadership in the country, the creativity and gems you can find when you look for long enough with an open mind, established and forgotten areas, bustling streets, trendy restaurants, varied shopping, the rush and the energy, all unmistakable (I’ll elaborate one day).

Back to the surprise first stop; meeting the 10 finalists, all hoping to be the final member of the globetrotting experience seeking group called The Smirnoff Ten. With our bad hair, not so fresh breath, and tired bodies we walked into the room with the ten bright eyed and bushy tailed hopefuls. We spent about an hour chatting, laughing, learning about the final ten who had been chosen following a few weeks of rigorous competition all over Brazil. We made and got our first impressions, took part in an express getting to know each other game, ate a very cheesy meal and left them to their own devices. Their competition is not over yet. In about week’s time, through a voting system, five people will be selected and from there, one winner announced.

We will of course be there almost the way to the end, but for now we’re off to explore the city of contrasts and unfairly gorgeous people. I wish I spoke Portuguese.

Brazil

For as long as I can remember I’ve always wanted to visit Brazil. It was a country that I knew for sure would be a place that was a worthy competitor to South Africa in terms of energy. Energy that you get from the people, the energy you can feel in every cell in your body, inexplicable yet very tangible energy. Brazilians are known to be passionate and full of fire, this was something I had been aching to see and feel for so long, and I was just about to get the opportunity.
I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited to pack up my things and get to the airport for my flight to this land of passion and beauty. (I’m a little worried about my luggage weight though)

I’m not sure what the nightlife and culture will be like, but I can imagine that I’m going to have a great time. I’m tingling just thinking about doing the samba and cooling down with a cold caipiroska… in Brazil. Oh my goodness. I’m so thrilled; this is going to be the best 20 days of my life, so far.


I can’t wait.

Why does this flight have to be so long?

This is the question I would ask myself when taking my usual 2hr flight to Cape Town from Johannesburg. About 1800kms of S.A. in between. 2hours has turned out to be nothing in the air. That is just under double the time I now spend in the airports from country to country. The flights, they are grandfathers to my little 2 hour cloud trek across South Africa.

London - Moscow 5 hours or so.
London – Argentina, Buenos Aires, stop over in Brazil: 11h 20min
Brazil, Sao Paulo – Argentina, Buenos Argentina: 2h 55min
Buenos Aires – Mexico City D.F.: 9h 35min
Mexico City – Sao Paulo: 9h 20min

Long and interesting hauls across continents and ocean. And it’s only the beginning of me becoming an expert on airports and actually knowing exactly how to have a great flight, which seats to ask for depending on the type of airplane, knowing when to ask for a window seat and when not to, alternating between beef and chicken, calculating the time between the first drink and the last one before needing to empty my bladder, knowing when to go to the loo without having to wait too long in the queue, keeping passport in an easily accessible place, moisturizing every few hours and keeping skin hydrated, stretching legs and letting blood flow freely, making notes from interesting articles from the in flight magazine, which is sometimes complementary, knowing exactly where my nearest exit door is, just in case. All these things are part of the game of making each long flight one that is memorable and comfortable.

Airport time usually begins on a stressful foot, hauling 30 kilograms of luggage to the check in desk and praying that I won’t get charged for being over the limit, exchanging money back to dollars or pounds, finding food and drink, going through immigration, the hectic security checks.

London has got to be the strictest airport when it comes to security and you can feel the tension everywhere. Moscow airport wasn’t too bad, but they also made us take off our shoes when going through metal detector machines, just like Heathrow. Mexico City, Buenos Aires and Brazil were a breeze and quite stress free.

After all the official stuff we spend a lot of time in the waiting areas, after everything in the stores become not so fascinating and fatigue pays us a visit, we tend to just sit quietly with our thoughts somewhere comfortable. Thinking is one my favourite things to do, alone and getting lost in my head. Jotting down key points about an experience for my blogs, imagining the next city, going through the pictures I’ve taken and laughing to myself, it’s all a part of escaping and just living in my head for a little while and letting my body and mind relax and just be.

Airports are my new best friends; it’s all a part of the experience.

The final night in Mexico City

I always enjoy to my fullest the final night in a city (speaking as though I’ve been doing this travelling for a while now, right). In any case it’s like having that last chocolate or even that last succulent and delicious bite of a hamburger, the last night is all about saying goodbye and thank you to a city. So goodbye and thank you it was to Mexico City D.F. with all its hidden beauty, mysterious and thought provoking art, unusual and surprising traffic, its flavour, its history and current story and the exotic food.

Wait, before I go on about the final scrumptious night let me just talk about the food. Why is it that Mexican food in other countries is very different to the Mexican food in Mexico? (I wonder if it’s like that for Thai, Indian or Turkish food.) As an example, the taco and burritos appear more natural here.
Oh and they are quite adventurous with their sweets. I’m a chewy sweets kinda gal, and love the juicy surprise in those that have that sweet and wonderfully soft center. I discovered this ‘’adventurous side” after one of my many visits to the seven eleven, which was conveniently around the corner and open 24 hours. I decided to try the selection of my favourites. Arrived ‘home’ and excitedly opened a pack that had a naughty looking tiger on the front, wine gum looking treats inside and my limited Spanish telling me that I was about to enjoy a juicy surprise. Surprise it was, juicy it was not. Who would have thought, you can put paprika, cinnamon and barbeque spices in the balls of sweet preservative packed goodies, instead of fruity juice. Adventurous!

Back to my last night. Our flight to Brazil was on Tuesday sometime, therefore the day preceding that, so the calendar claims, would be a Monday. Monday would be the last opportunity for me to come out and play with fellow night crawlers. No matter, it was a Friday night to me.

That afternoon I met a very handsome young doctor who gave me the fabulous tip to visit Condesa - a little trendy and club ridden area in D.F. Seemingly the suggested bar had a Half Price Monday Student night and fantastic music. Who’s going to say no to half price everything?
Dolled up and ready to go the team missioned off to their last night, with only the name of area and the bar, in famous Condesa which has bars, clubs and restaurant at almost every street corner, middle street, side street, you name it. We all crossed our fingers hopeful that our wonderful Spanish speaking cab driver would be a positive link to our good night. Luckily within 20 minutes of suspense we found Zydeco, followed by a collective sigh of relief.

Zydeco turned out to be a really cool place, great vibe, smiles all round and calm house music we could all enjoy. Mild mahogany all over the place with high stools and tables in the main area, three raised rooms with intricate floral detailed couches and lower tables where you can enjoy chilled out drinks with buddies. They even have a little stall room where you can purchase really funky merchandise such as leather biker jackets, Zydeco branded, t-shirts, caps and all sorts. We couldn’t get space in the awesome couch areas and even had to wait a few short minutes to get a table, or in our case two. The place was comfortably packed. The food on the menu looked awesome, so much so that we had to get a variety and nibble of everything. I don’t recall all the choices but the two that stuck out the most in my mind were sticky barbeque chicken wings that had been marinated in whisky… yummy! The other was deep fried spicy prawns with this fascinating tangy mayonnaise type sauce. My mouth is watering as I write. We treated ourselves like royalty that night. Later decided it would be economically viable and probably create quite a laugh to put our cocktail training to the test and hopefully show that we are somewhat skilled in this area of mixology. Ordered a bottle of No 21 (you should know what that is), orange juice, cranberry juice, lime and strawberries, tonic water and ginger beer. None of the concoctions were recorded or even given names, delicious as they were. We also followed the rule stating that a drink must have a minimum of three ingredients, excluding the ice to be considered a cocktail. Our creations were wild and whacky sweet, bitter and very sweet, colourful and fruity. Next time we need to write them down and spread the word.

The night didn’t end there though. Ben, John and I visited a club called Neon, which is in the gay district, Zona Rosa, located in a church looking building called Centro de Angel. Walking through the centre we passed very quiet and closed shops selling wares such as incense, antiques, flowers and gifts. Quite benign surroundings really, compared to the party in the club. Went up some stairs and the bright yellow/orange and green lights of the aptly named Neon club invaded my eyes and I knew we’d arrived. Met at the door by a lovely elaborately dressed person with a blonde wig, blue dress and bright green eye shadow, bling-bling earrings and highest heels I’ve seen since the movies of flower power. Neon is a garage/warehouse looking space with nothing much to it; obviously the people do the job of creating a bash. The floors are that raw cement you’d probably find in airplane hangars, in the middle a raised steel platform for use as a dance floor by those that feel like being the centre of attention and ability to dance. Ben chose this opportunity to show us that he could do more than nod his head to the beat, I on the other hand was happy to enjoy he show and take pictures.

I can’t tell you what the genre of the music was, but the closest I can get is to say it was a fast paced ‘doof doof’ with metal hitting steel sort of sounds making their appearance between sharp instrumental shrieks.

After an hour or so more of drinks in plastic cups with cranberry concentrate, people sweating all over the place, cheers from the crowd to the gyrating exhibitionists on the platform, meeting people who just couldn’t pronounce my tri-syllable name and rubbing my shiny head, some more ‘doof doof’ and metals we left the club and followed our stomachs to a 24 hour bistro, went home and said a satisfactory goodbye and thank you to Mexico City D.F.

The Journey for number 9

La Zona De Combate was a competition run by Smirnoff Experience and MTV Latin America in conjunction with EMI. Bands from all around Latin America excluding Brazil competed in a talent search competition to win a career assisting recording deal with EMI. Alongside the bands was the Fans. Bands and Fans. The fans part was the most important for the Smirnoff eight-soon-to-be-nine, as fans competed to be chosen as the ninth member of the year-long globe trotting original experience searchers.

The finals were held in Mexico City, where ten hopefuls went through a series of challenges, partly conducted by the existing Smirnoff eight, interviews and noted interactions. Every move they made was watched, remembered and increased or depleted their points.

At the final event, held at the famous Bull Dog club, where in years gone by some the world’s greatest rock stars have played and left their mark in the venue, the winner of the competition was announced. Audette from Guadalajara in Mexico. A ball of fun and laughs, party organizer, planner, decorator and socialite extraordinaire.

After the event we celebrated with all the contestants, except for Audette, who was too overwhelmed to get out of her hotel room. The Smirnoff eight-now-nine said our farewells to the rest as their Smirnoff experience journey had to come to an end. The adventure for Audette was about to begin. From her zest, energy and genuine enthusiasm, I knew she would fit in perfectly.

Welcome Audette.

Next station to collect the final member is Brazil.

Out of Touch

It’s October, lying in bed, 3am in Mexico City, 11am SA time and unable to sleep. I’ve spent the past few hours staring at the ceiling and for the last 30 minutes I’ve been listening. Listening to the familiar pleasant beats of South Africa’s legendary reggae stars music as it seeps in under the door. Usually upbeat and soulful, somewhat inspiration music, I am saddened as hearing it right now reminds me that just a few hours ago I found about the death of Lucky Dube.
.
It occurred at the weekend, the weekend that South Africa was to be celebrating its title as the rugby world champions. A weekend that was to be filled with nothing but anxiety, camaraderie, sportsmanship and patriotism, instead had mourning added in the list.

I continue to listen to the soft music stealing my attention and keeping me from my sleep, letting my thoughts wander and securing one in particular that has been playing in my head; I am out of touch with home. A whole week, it took me a week to find out that Lucky Dube’s life was taken, a week to learn that South Africa was in mourning, a week after my country began to weep, I finally caught on.

My eyes are still wide open and not getting heavy as I wish they would, my mind is racing and there is a sharp pain burning in my heart. My only comfort lies in the instruments, the rhythm, the beat, the energy and voice creeping into the room, music belonging to a man I’d never met, a man who didn’t even know me, but knew our home. A place I’m appreciating more and more each day I am away.

I lie here wondering what else I am not aware of, with all that I absorb daily around the world I can never forget where I come from and where my heart lies. Time away is worth every second and I wouldn’t trade this journey for anything, but I still wonder about the happenings of daily life back home. It’s strange.

I’m going to sleep now, may my dreams be filled with all the sights, sounds and scents I miss so dearly.

Rest in peace Lucky Dube, rest in peace comrade. Mzansi I cry with you.