Easter Madness

As I boarded the bright Orange airplane that was to carry me home to Ballito, I reflected fondly on the many memories that I’ve already made there:

Christmas on the sundeck – Christmas after party in the hot tub; every party I’ve ever attended at my uncle’s house; girls night with my mom, cousin and aunt; almost drowning with Harry - two Easters ago; New Years beach parties that inevitably get too rough even for me; Moonlit nights on the beach with someone special – dreaming about what the future holds; sitting on a rock – staring at the Ocean – daring Her to come get me if she had the guts! Maybe that was a mistake. Especially since Ballito is right in the proverbial line of fire. Global warming is a bitch. After seeing the beaches post-springtide, I am more convinced than ever that too much harm has already been done.

All the memories on those beaches, and now I can’t event really gain access to them any more – you get fined for attempting it.

I remember a weird thing. Several years ago, I was living in Germany, and met a young British soldier named Danny. Danny and I took an almost instant liking to each other. I was all alone in a strange country, far far away from home and could not yet utter a recognisable word in German, nor could I understand anyone around me. English is not big there. That’s how I ended up meeting Danny. The soldiers were English and I needed friends. He and his friends teased me because my Post-Colonial South African English was much better than their British mumblings. Go figure. We started going out and for a couple of weeks it was bliss. I had never really had a boyfriend before – and not really since then (too full of shit).

Too make a long story short, it all ended rather abruptly. I had just been placed in another city and had to leave the next day. I went to look for Danny, to say goodbye. When we parted… I promised to write – and I did – but never mailed the letters. I kept them in a drawer and eventually tore them up and threw them away. I went on with my life and embraced it fully. I never heard from him again. I guess he might have been sent to Afghanistan or Iraq or someplace like that. Maybe he never returned.. Who knows? I don’t even remember what he looked like. I just remember his name.

Memory is like that. We hear a song, catch a whiff of a familiar smell or touch something that brings back a flood of memories. Sometimes memories just jump into your head randomly, and you have no idea what had just happened. I hope that I will be given a chance to make new memories in Ballito – ones that are just as extra-ordinary as the ones that the Indian Ocean had tried to wash away. I’m certain there will be many more moonlit nights. I also hope that I will get to know that feeling again. The one where someone adores me and tells me that they need only me in order to be really happy. Someone who can read my thoughts, who will know my true feelings without me having to say a single word, someone who will know all of these things immediately, just by noting the expression on my face. I can’t have blown my only shot yet; I was too young, ignorant and proud to truly appreciate it for what it was. There has got to be more of that on the way. More moonlit nights, more hand-holding, more passionate kissing, more knowing glances, more teasing, more drinking wine on the beach and dreaming about tomorrow. I hope to God that there is a tomorrow for all of these things to happen in. And I hope that wherever ghostly Danny is, that he is happy. Ok, that’s enough of that yucky love stuff!

I adore the East Coast. It is breathtakingly beautiful. It’s got the unruly and vicious yet disarmingly stunning ocean, the magnificent grass ocean; the hills; the swamps; the jungles; the soft, white sands; the cooling, fragrant breeze; the easy going nature of the people; the sunsets; driving in a car sightseeing; discovering new pieces of paradise; sunsets and perhaps even the sunrises (I must confess that I am rarely awake to see the sunrise) and the open-air.

So I decide to disregard the vicious assault that the Ocean had made on my home town and to embrace it anyway. I decide to go in search of an open beach, just to wet my feet. (You’ve gotta wet your feet, right?)

So off I go to wet my feet, find the only remaining “open to the public” beach and arrogantly stepped out of my shoes to (say it with me) wet my feet. Man, I had not been standing there for more than 3 seconds, when this huge mother of a wave comes along, sweeps me off my feet and tumbles me around a couple of times. Picture me, feet in the air, skirt up to my shoulders, stumbling around, trying to get a foot hold.

I nearly died laughing at the amazing irony. It was then that I realised that I had had my bag around me and that said bag was now a fishbowl. Yup, with my brand new Samsung D900 floating merrily inside. Goodbey D900! It’s been a hell of a 2 weeks!

I suppose it was my arrogance that did it. Please some one, remind me to tell you all the story about ‘The Ocean and I’ one day. It’s quite a good story. I guess that things like this happen to bring us back down to Earth, before it gets out of hand. Clearly, I was not ready for yuppy-scumhood.

The rest of the holiday, I spent driving in a car with a boy, sightseeing and enjoying the natural splendor that is Ballito, running to the shops, attempting to watch anime and listening to music. And sleeping. Sleeping soundly, like a baby! Oh Bliss!

By the time that I got back onto the Orange airplane and Mango Experienced my way back to Jozi, I was so incredibly relaxed as I haven’t been in years. Also… kinda sad to leave… Reluctant to leave Paradise behind….

When I reached Joburg, I met my Cosmic Cousin Mel D and we went to this function in Melrose Arch where I made eye contact with the SUPER FABULOUS Deon Chang! Wheeeeee!

Then we went out for a lovely dinner and went home after listening to some fine tunes. It was wonderful to be home again, even though I already miss everyone down at the coast. All that’s left now is to go back to the normal everyday work and play of, what I affectionately refer to as, my crazy life. Never a dull moment.

And hey! I’ve got an exhibition to plan and host, so I’d better get to work!