Back to Africa
February 17, 2012, 2:12 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , ,

I spent the last few days in Oz mostly with a selection of people I had met through my last gig.

I spent a night on Rotto, watching the moon rise over Perth and biking around dodging quokkas. We somehow hit the perfect day to snorkle shallow reefs and lay on the beach without WA wind blasting sand all over. I was not a Rottnest believer before, but I am now. Also, biking is amazing, especially on paved gently sloping islands that look vaguely grecian.

Back in Perth, I got a message from another acquaintance asking if I wanted to drive to Margaret River. Margies delivered lovely food and coffee and enviable waves everywhere that almost made me regret storing my board with a friend down South. We fantasized, briefly, about doing a stint of rural work in a vineyard. Night was cans of Export and a clear dark sky. Triple J and hours of conversation, life had never been so easy.

I crashed for a night in possibly the dodgiest backpackers I have ever slept in, in the first single room I have ever slept in, because Perth was booked out and I had decided to abandon being organized.  As a result, I dreamed of bedbugs and woke to a bunch of Irish backpackers having an all night trance session in the common area. 

I sent a message to a med student I had forgotten about who met me in Freo to drink beer samplers and watch street performers and late night bar fights spill into the street.  The next night we hit a Sunday Session at the Cott, a sort of full circle moment reminding me of landing almost six months before and heading straight for Cottesloe. I am not sure life gets better than a summer Sunday sesh on that strip of coastline.

Perth the second time around was still not my perfect city, too sprawling and quiet, but it was a lot better. The outdoor cinema in Kings Park, oysters in Leederville, burgs in Subiaco… not a bad life.  

My med friend threw me some special sleeping pills and I spent nine of the eleven hours of my SAA flight passed out hard on my tray table, to the amusement of my seatmate.  He was in his forties and looking at immigrating. We talked pros and cons for the minority of minutes I wasn’t drooling. 

Arriving in Johannesburg, with all kinds of trepidation about leaving my very comfortable life in Oz, I felt a feeling I wasn’t sure I would feel again – that sense of peaceful homecoming. OR Thambo is a special airport because everything it contains is so ordinary.  The restaurants are the same ones found in the average South African town, so is the newsstand. In an hour, you can get a hit of whatever you are craving, from Wimpy coffee to Woolies biltong.

I loaded my bag on another SAA flight and headed, for the second time in my life, North to Windhoek.   


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