A familiar place

With an just over an hour's wait on Lusaka runway before the final hop over to Harare, looking out over a tarmac that ends abruptly in Savannah, my mind dwells not on the adventures that lay out there ahead of me but the past week in London.

When I was sitting in Stockholm Arlanda finishing the last of an expensively cheap bottle of whisky, I looked down at key ring.  It is the first time I can recall not owning a single key and it gave me a sense of homeless freedom.

Flying back into London, following the line of the Thames as if it were a vein and our plane was a blood cell pulsing along mindlessly behind those before it, easily spotting all the familiar sights. I couldn't help but get annoyed at how excited fellow passengers were at sighting this or that stadium, some confusing Twickenham for Wembly.  I looked upon Richmond bridge almost as if I was going to mindlessly make my way back along the Thames to the place I spent so much of my time in London.  Stepping out of the arrivals hall to have a familiar face waiting for me, a rare occurrence in my travel over the years, I realised that I was not home but I had plenty of homes.

My first day set a precedent by sharing a bottle of goldwasser at 10am and ended in the happy haze of margaritas and green gauccamoli with a grasshopper thrown in for good measure.  Through the week London continued to open her delights, days were lazy and hazy spent absorbing much needed sun while nights were consumed the happy chemicals produced long days in one of the worlds greatest cities. Maybe that is just the romance of not having demands on my time talking, I certainly realised how unsustainable it was by the end of the week.  It was a dizzying mix of socializing with friends, colleagues, new acquaintances and lovers past and present.  Though all through the week there was the underlying knowing that no matter where we all end up, the connections we have made in London means there will always be someone with a smile waiting at a terminal for us when you need it.

Tweet

More of the same

Monday - 06/05/2013

I arrived at Harare International airport on Thursday evening not knowing what to expect, but expecting the hassle of other African airports. To my surprise it was a painless affair. Traveling on a South African passport meant there was no need for a visa or to stand in the payment queue, one of the few benefits of having the little green books. My bag was ready and waiting form me when I got through passport control so I could breath a sigh of relief that I was not going to have to answer the question on the Barclays adverts lining the customs hall: How long do you wait until you accept your bags are lost?


Stepping out terminal building I expected to be hit with muggy air and the hostile barrage of taxi drivers trying to secure my business. Neither occurred, the air was cool and refreshing, the evening light making it welcoming and the few taxi drivers around appeared content to wait for business to come to them. It had been arranged that a friend of a friend would pick me up at the airport, though I had not spoken to her since we agreed this and that was a week and a bit ago, so when half an hour had passed I concluded that it had taken too long to get through customs and she had left already. I turned on my UK phone to attempt to call her, but nothing, apparently 3 does not work in Zim. Popping back into the terminal building I found a prepaid cellphone counter and the friendly lady there quickly had me set up with a SIM and mobile internet to boot.

That is when lesson one of Africa travel came in and I realised just how westernised I am. I had the number for my lift in a Facebook message though when trying to access it I discovered just how flaky mobile internet here is and there was no getting the number. Later this would also prove a problem when trying to access the pin codes for my travel money cards. So lesson one is : Don't rely on technology, it will fail you, use a pen and paper.


Shortly after my failed attempts at contacting her, my lift arrived and my bags were thrown into the back of her car as we zoomed off leaving the airport and my 13 hour flight a pleasant memory. Our zooming lasted all of 10 minutes which is when I experienced Harare's drivers reactions to traffic lights being out. It can be likened to driving in India only with about 100x less people. Despite our hold up, it could not have been more than 35min between leaving the airport and having my first beer in my hand. My welcome to Harare was to be the HIFI festival, which entailed music performed by D list artists from around the world and copious amounts of drink. The rest of my stay in Harare followed suit and saw me at various bars and clubs culminating in some bar on Saturday night where a glance around revealed that the average age of the patrons could not have been above 16. Despite the whiskey in hand, sobriety came fast at the realisation that all those around me where half my age. It was time to move on and make my way to Victoria Falls.

The whiskey from Saturday night dictated that I missed the bus to the Falls on Sunday and instead spent it lazing about my host's house, which to be fair wasn't the worst place I could be and I got to make a dent in Stanley's - How I Found Livingstone, which I thought appropriate considering the next leg of my trip.

 On Monday morning it was up early to the bus stop to sort out the journey to the Falls. The bus I needed turned out to be two busses and was going to cost me more than I had anticipated,  luckily one of the guys spending the night in the house was heading to Bulawayo which was half the way there, so I hitched a lift with him. The journey was pleasant and entailed much conversation about Zimbabwe and down south (South Africa).  We arrived in Bulawayo that evening and decided to check when the train was going to the Falls, as it happened the next train was in a couple hours. I jumped at the chance and got the second last ticket in sleeper class. Sheepishly I had to ask my lift to spot me a dollar as the drinking in Harare had seen me use up all my dollars and I was having trouble getting hold of more, it didn't matter, I had a ticket to the Falls and would be leaving in a couple hours.  

Tweet

An ominous start.

I had every intention of starting this post along the lines of : I am sitting a bar x enjoying the sunset while I wait for my flight to continue my adventure.
Instead I will start it with a picture:
I was fortunate that I decided I would get to the airport with ample time to spare, I intended to write this post before my flight to Harare. The picture is the queue to get on the shuttle bus to the north terminal. My adventure was to begin at the airport already. From what I could gather they found a suspicious vehicle in the parking lot and needed to do a controlled explosion. This meant that no cars were allowed in or out of the north terminal and the train between the two was shut.
Upon reaching the terminal it was a bit like scenes from 24 days later, we all had to get off the bus and trudge up an on ramp under the watchful glare of blue flashing lights to make it into a deserted terminal building.  I made it to my gate 1min before it closed, so much for my relaxing start.
With one leg done and 3 movies down, I now sit on a blistering Dubai runway waiting to take off for the second time. The flight seems rather empty and being one of the first to board, I have been afforded the opportunity to observe the other passengers as they pass. What strikes me is the number of Chinese people on the flight.  Thinking back to a trip to Swaziland in 2006, I recall making the remark then at how much China had invested in the country.  Which makes me look at my fellow passengers and think how I am on a plane with the new super powers. Step over the west, the east is fast on its way to take top spot again. The question is how will we in the west respond to this?

Tweet

Goodbye Stockholm

Sometimes the things we want most in life come along when we aren't ready to embrace them.  As was the case for Stockholm and me.

I wanted to move here ever since I started working in the region a few years ago, so when the opportunity arose I seized it.

The time spent here has been turbulent and testing, as is always the case when one moves to a new country. This difficulty finding one self in a new place is one of the reasons I like to move from place to place so much. It causes you to reflect on where you have been and you are, to take stock of the place you have reached and where you want to be. While I wanted to be where I was, I realised with certainty that I did not want to be doing what I was doing.

Thus it is with incomplete experience that I leave this beautiful city just as it rises out of its winter slumber. I leave to continue to navigate down a path others have traveled in order to discover their place in this world. Though I am a firm believer of not having a reason for being and prefer to just be, so I won't be seeking a definitive place or purpose. Thank you Stockholm for your part in my journey so far and to all those inhabitants who made the experiences all that more special. It was a time filled with glitter and openness, you helped me find my inner child once more and I needed that.

When I first wanted to move here I could not see how I was going to make that happen. Now, having done it, I can see that that there are always ways to make what want happen, if nothing else, just ask. I have an inkling that I will be back someday, perhaps to stay a little longer.

Until then farewell Stockholm.

Tweet

Packing

With less than a week to go until I start living out of a bag on a permanent basis, I decided it was time to see exactly what my worldly possessions would be reduced to.   Those who have been following my blog will recall that I was having a bit of a dilemma as to what bag to get, well I decided on the Caribee Grand Air 80 Travel Pack and for now I am glad I did.

Main bag.

 The bag has an 80l capacity with an additional 30l day pack that zips to the front (image below).  The picture above shows what I have managed to squeeze into the main bag. I have no doubt that I shall drop items along the way, but for now this is what I have:

• 4 pairs shoes (Boots, formal, trainers and sandals) 
• 4  pairs trousers (2 jeans, 2 cargo)
• 1 warm jacket - my snowboarding jacket so can double as rain mac.
• 1 spring jacket
• 5 Long sleeve tops (2 hoodies, 2 jumpers and 1 light weight)
• 7 t-shirts (5 causal, 2 sports wear)
• 3 shirts
• 2 under armor tops.
• 5 pairs shorts (2 heavy, 3 boardshorts) 
• 9 pairs underwear
• 18 socks - I don't pair them, that way if I loose them or one gets holes it is not a problem. 
• 1 blazer - sometimes you need to put in some effort
• 1 waist coat - every man should have one. 
• 1 travel towel
• 1 first aid kit
• 1 toiletries bag
• diary

Day pack

 In the detachable day pack I have:

• 1 pair climbing shoes
• 1 chalk bag
• 1 sleeping bag

Camera bag

My camera bag will hold everything else which includes:

• 1 Canon 50D body
• 3 lenses (10-20mm, 24-60mm, 150-500mm)
• A bunch of filters
• 1 external flash and remote triggers
• 1 Tripod
• 1 Gorilla pod
• Canon camcorder 
• Reflectors
• 2 external drives
• 1 Asus Zenbook 
• Travel adapters
• Travel documents including passports. 
• 1 hip flask. 

Reading these lists it does seem like I have a lot of stuff.  Then when I consider that I have no idea where I shall be in 2 months time and that this is everything I own from here on out it doesn't seem too excessive, especially when I look at what I am leaving behind 

The left overs.

What shocks me is that when I moved to Sweden I made at least 4 trips to the charity shop dumping unwanted goods, yet I still have so much that I don't really need. I guess this is what living in a consumerist society does to you. 

Tweet

I hope it catches on

I recently shared a post about babies on planes, today I read an article that made me even happier.  Samoa Air airlines has implemented a pay-as-you-weigh policy, boldly tackling an issue other have found too delicate to talk about.

Before you shout and say that is so wrong and unfair, think of this:

"It works both ways. People who pay more deserve more. ... So, it is in our interests that we take care of the people that who've chalked in at 150, 180 kilograms (330, 396 pounds). They've paid their fare and the we try to give them what they should have, which is a comfortable seat. We try to make sure they have space around them, that taller people have got more leg room -- within the confines of the airplane these days we try to do it."

Tweet

Just Ask

With the entries for mydestination now closed, I doubt my 84 votes will get me anywhere when the finalists are announced on the 15th April.  Regardless of the outcome though, I know at least some good came of this experience.

Shortly before submitting my entry, I stumbled upon the following video:



Now being someone who has never liked asking for things, probably due to the fact that I don't want to feel in debt to anyone, this video really made me think.

So during the competition, I decided to try something different, I decided to "Just ask" and sent messages to a bunch of the windsurfing pages I subscribe to on Facebook.  The result was having my entry posted on Windsurfing Magazine, SoloSport, Queen Mary Windsurfing Club and Contentseven.

I guess the real reason we don't ask for things is the fear of rejection. When ultimately we should be thinking, the worst case is that the answer is no, and if the answer is no? You are no worse off than if you had not asked in the first place.  It is an everything to gain, nothing to lose situation. 

Tweet