Today was a tough day. It was one of those days that just started and it felt like 5 minutes till it ended, but at the same time you had to struggle to get through each moment.
I’m tired of looking patients in the eye and telling them we have no wheelchairs and we don’t know when we will have. I’m tired of struggling to fix problems which should take 15 minutes in a normal hospital but takes half an hour in mine because there is no equipment, the equipment that there is, is broken, and the equipment that works no one knows how to operate and if there is someone you have to spend half a morning begging them to take a break from “tea time” and come and help you. I’m tired of referring patients to social workers, physiotherapists, audiologists and what have you, knowing that they will either not be seen or just be glanced at. I’m tired of struggling against a system that’s given up.
Somehow I understand why people are so demotivated and just don’t work. If your boss is sneaking off early through the wards so no one will se her, sitting in the kitchen having tea the whole time and gossiping about her sex life it’s hard to be motivated to work. If money is cut from every department and every piece of equipment you need but people get to go on R16 000 courses in the cape, but no one wants to pay your housing allowance, you struggle to want to give something back. If I were working for the state, the hospital, my boss or whatever I’d give up as well. I have to remind myself constantly that I’m working for God. It’s so hard to be his hands and feet when none of the other body parts are working. To sit in a kitchen celebrating someone’s birthday with almost 15 other people and only one of them bothering to speak English so you can be included in the coversation. To fight the same fight again and again. To hit your head against the same wall again and again. And I’m not even particularly fond of occupational therapy in the first place.
Today I’m just tired of running around fixing everyone’s crap and doing everyone’s dirty work while I don’t even get to do my own work well because it’s simply impossible to get anything done in that horrible hospital! I’m tired of bosses looking the other way and people in places of authority not doing their work and taking responsibility for what they signed up for. It’s not fair that, just because they don’t have money, people should get sub-standards service and die of curable diseases! People shouldn’t be treated that way just because they’re sick and they don’t know that they’re entitled to better. And I simply hate that there’s nothing I can do about it.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Moz 3
So I’m not in the mood to write the entire account of the rest of my trip to Mozambique. Let’s just say it was fun. Spent days on the beach or reading in a cute little coffee shop, trying to avoid skin cancer. One afternoon we ate at this local restaurant where we had portugese chicken. All the meals had the same price and, no matter what you wanted, if you told them, they would get it for you the next day. Prawns, chicken, calamari, fish, all the same price… This once girl asked for bread with her chicken instead of rice. We saw the waiter going out to the market and returning a little later with a loaf on a plate. One girl asked for only a salad, which turned out to be tomato slices with onion slices on a normal sized plate. When it came to eating utensils each person got a fork and only one knife between the seven of us. Apparently the restaurant only had one knife. It was sweet and an entirely new cultural experience. Was the yummiest rice ever.
So I’ll type if I remember other particular occasions. Other than that it was an awesome trip. I have to commend the girls I went with. They turned out to be the most real, friendly and open people I have ever met. Christians to the core. I started thinking about Christianity and how we differ from the world. And I just realize, as the Bible states, it’s our actions that count. You can go to church 5 times a week and pray 4 hours every night, if your actions don’t differ from the world, it makes no difference. People need to see that we are different. In the way we work, in our relationships, in how we handle conflict, how we handle people, how we handle difficult situations. These are all the things that make us different and set us apart from the world. If no one can tell you’re different then it doesn’t matter what you do in your quiet time. And these girls were different. You could see it. They were different from the world, but inviting and non-judgemental. Willing to learn, make friends, and get to know and spend time with anyone we met on the trip, but maintaining their standards. I sometimes think the way we make people feel through our actions and more important than anything else. If they remember you, if they think of you, do they think of God? Do they remember God? Do they see God?
So I’ll type if I remember other particular occasions. Other than that it was an awesome trip. I have to commend the girls I went with. They turned out to be the most real, friendly and open people I have ever met. Christians to the core. I started thinking about Christianity and how we differ from the world. And I just realize, as the Bible states, it’s our actions that count. You can go to church 5 times a week and pray 4 hours every night, if your actions don’t differ from the world, it makes no difference. People need to see that we are different. In the way we work, in our relationships, in how we handle conflict, how we handle people, how we handle difficult situations. These are all the things that make us different and set us apart from the world. If no one can tell you’re different then it doesn’t matter what you do in your quiet time. And these girls were different. You could see it. They were different from the world, but inviting and non-judgemental. Willing to learn, make friends, and get to know and spend time with anyone we met on the trip, but maintaining their standards. I sometimes think the way we make people feel through our actions and more important than anything else. If they remember you, if they think of you, do they think of God? Do they remember God? Do they see God?
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Moz 2
Just a quick thought before I continue on Mozambique:
Reasons why I hate small towns
- The closest Spar with coconut milk is 40km from my house
- When you go to a bank to try and open a savings account all your enquiries are met with a blank stare and rapid confused typing on the computer followed by the person turning around and finding her superior
- There are no banks in my town so the bank is the same distance from me as coconut milk
Reasons why I like small towns
- No traffic so driving to the spar/bank takes half the time
- Cars flash you when there are traffic cops and you get to thank trucks for making space for you about 5 times a day by switching on your hazards when you pass. I like doing this. Especially when they flash back.
- After sorting out the not-so-hard questions a guy with golden teeth and tattoos keep you entertained by telling you his life story and listening to yours while you open the account
Mozambique part 2
The next day we were off to Tofo. Miracle beyond miracles we left 15 minutes early. About an hour into the drive the car behind us unexpectedly stopped. We (in fear of the police) did not do a U turn and stopped a few metres ahead. We then waited about 20 minutes while they went to the bathroom and into the store (did we not do this before we left) Anyway so we drove some more and stopped halfway for some lunch by the side of the road. True rural style we plopped onto the ground under a tree and had some sandwiches. We then drove to Tofo. I slept almost all the way. It took about 8 hours as there were MANY potholes and you have to slow down to 60 in every town and the signs don’t indicate when the 80 and 100 zones start again so you have to guess. In this way we once thought a town had stopped when it hadn’t so we were driving too fast and lo and behold got stopped by the traffic police. Again. Same car as the previous night. He gave us a fine of 1000 meticash but tried to bribe us by saying he’d bring it down to 200. We decided it wasn’t right and gave him the 100 meticash and asked for a receipt. Joy. At least we slept fine that night.
Getting there the place was s beautiful. We booked in and realized the huts we were staying in were tiny huts with a metre high wall and a grass roof with two matrasses on the ground of each hut and a mosquito net. It was perfect actually as we didn’t plan to spend much time inside.
That night we had dinner at the bar/restaurant at the place where we were staying (bamboozi lodge) and realized that no one in Tofo (the town) gave change. You either had to give correct change, give a large tip, or be happy with a little paper stating how much credit you had at the bar. We also realized very soon that neither peaceful sleep nor tabart keeps away mosquitos. We had so many mosquito bites we looked like lepers and only one girl had drunk malaria pills. Oh well. At least I know.
The next day 4 of the girls went diving and three of us just hung around. We went exploring to the little market, looking at fish for the night and everything else available. We then stumbled upon Tipo Tinto. Without anyone’s guidance we decided to buy this Mozambican rum. Apparently it’s famous for keeping away mosquitos. Didn’t help for us, but it did help to make new friends. We and our new rum sat around the table at the campsite and made friends with two girls who are traveling for a year around the world. We met because we needed a bottle opener at 11 in the morning. It became the running joke of the week, us drinking rum so early in the morning. A bunch of friendly Christian girls. Goes to show how free we can be in God.
Anyway, the girls were so interesting. Their names were Farrah and Zahra. They’ve been traveling since the beginning of the year, they’ve been in Egypt, Malawi, Zanzibar, Zamibie, Mozambique and Zambie. Now Moz, SA and Swaziland. Their travels sounded so exciting and they had a story for every country. After Africa they’re going to South America then North America then Europe. I’m so jealous and think I’ll plan something like this for 2010.
That night we decided to explore one of the many beach bars. I had a local beer (interesting) and coffee (was dying for some) We then tried to find some dancing but everything was pretty much quiet. Two local Mozambicans decided to be our tour guides for the night and it was quite a mission to eventually go to sleep without them being too upset that we weren’t keen on partying till late.
That’s it for today…. Till tomorrow…
Reasons why I hate small towns
- The closest Spar with coconut milk is 40km from my house
- When you go to a bank to try and open a savings account all your enquiries are met with a blank stare and rapid confused typing on the computer followed by the person turning around and finding her superior
- There are no banks in my town so the bank is the same distance from me as coconut milk
Reasons why I like small towns
- No traffic so driving to the spar/bank takes half the time
- Cars flash you when there are traffic cops and you get to thank trucks for making space for you about 5 times a day by switching on your hazards when you pass. I like doing this. Especially when they flash back.
- After sorting out the not-so-hard questions a guy with golden teeth and tattoos keep you entertained by telling you his life story and listening to yours while you open the account
Mozambique part 2
The next day we were off to Tofo. Miracle beyond miracles we left 15 minutes early. About an hour into the drive the car behind us unexpectedly stopped. We (in fear of the police) did not do a U turn and stopped a few metres ahead. We then waited about 20 minutes while they went to the bathroom and into the store (did we not do this before we left) Anyway so we drove some more and stopped halfway for some lunch by the side of the road. True rural style we plopped onto the ground under a tree and had some sandwiches. We then drove to Tofo. I slept almost all the way. It took about 8 hours as there were MANY potholes and you have to slow down to 60 in every town and the signs don’t indicate when the 80 and 100 zones start again so you have to guess. In this way we once thought a town had stopped when it hadn’t so we were driving too fast and lo and behold got stopped by the traffic police. Again. Same car as the previous night. He gave us a fine of 1000 meticash but tried to bribe us by saying he’d bring it down to 200. We decided it wasn’t right and gave him the 100 meticash and asked for a receipt. Joy. At least we slept fine that night.
Getting there the place was s beautiful. We booked in and realized the huts we were staying in were tiny huts with a metre high wall and a grass roof with two matrasses on the ground of each hut and a mosquito net. It was perfect actually as we didn’t plan to spend much time inside.
That night we had dinner at the bar/restaurant at the place where we were staying (bamboozi lodge) and realized that no one in Tofo (the town) gave change. You either had to give correct change, give a large tip, or be happy with a little paper stating how much credit you had at the bar. We also realized very soon that neither peaceful sleep nor tabart keeps away mosquitos. We had so many mosquito bites we looked like lepers and only one girl had drunk malaria pills. Oh well. At least I know.
The next day 4 of the girls went diving and three of us just hung around. We went exploring to the little market, looking at fish for the night and everything else available. We then stumbled upon Tipo Tinto. Without anyone’s guidance we decided to buy this Mozambican rum. Apparently it’s famous for keeping away mosquitos. Didn’t help for us, but it did help to make new friends. We and our new rum sat around the table at the campsite and made friends with two girls who are traveling for a year around the world. We met because we needed a bottle opener at 11 in the morning. It became the running joke of the week, us drinking rum so early in the morning. A bunch of friendly Christian girls. Goes to show how free we can be in God.
Anyway, the girls were so interesting. Their names were Farrah and Zahra. They’ve been traveling since the beginning of the year, they’ve been in Egypt, Malawi, Zanzibar, Zamibie, Mozambique and Zambie. Now Moz, SA and Swaziland. Their travels sounded so exciting and they had a story for every country. After Africa they’re going to South America then North America then Europe. I’m so jealous and think I’ll plan something like this for 2010.
That night we decided to explore one of the many beach bars. I had a local beer (interesting) and coffee (was dying for some) We then tried to find some dancing but everything was pretty much quiet. Two local Mozambicans decided to be our tour guides for the night and it was quite a mission to eventually go to sleep without them being too upset that we weren’t keen on partying till late.
That’s it for today…. Till tomorrow…
Monday, May 4, 2009
Moz part1
Okay, for those who don’t know me (or didn’t know this about me) I’m not a girl-person. I usually don’t like girls. I especially don’t like groups of girls. So when I was on my way to Tonga (near Komatiepoort) to meet the rest of the girls who I’m going to spend a week in Mozambique with only one thing went through my mind: “What the hell were you thinking?” and shortly after that “You can still go home!” When I left work I thought about driving to Pretoria and spend my weekend there. Then I passed Nelspruit thinking that I can still take the N4. When I was almost in Tonga I still thought about driving back to Nelspruit, spending the night there and then going home. Oh, did I mention I also don’t like new people as well as being out of my comfort zone. I don’t.
When I got there I was met by some very nice girls. They were so sweet and very willing to get to know me and chat to me. But they were VERY girly. They giggled and hugged me for a very long time and every time a new girl arrived they would giggle and hug again. I don’t like giggling and hugging. Or new people. So, at about 9 o clock that night (after we decided to leave at 5 the next morning) they started packing food. At about 10 they decided to finally pack clothing. The entire process took almost an hour. One girl spread her entire cupboard on the floor and contemplated carefully which pieces to take and leave. This differs vastly from myself, throwing in jeans, short and T-shirts at random, adding my favourite items until the suitcase is overloaded as usual, then throwing a few things out, still needing to sit on it before it closes. I was also finished packing by 8 the previous night. Then it was decided (at 11:30 that night) that we need to go and make copies of our passports at the local police station. Jip. It was suddenly a priority. Getting there the policeman informed us of the fact that the office with the copying machine was in fact, locked. Until 8 the next morning. We wanted to leave at 5. After about half an hour’s conversation with the policeman ranging from criminals and guns to him eventually asking the one girl’s number, we finally left, deciding it was no longer a priority to get copies of our passports. So, finally, at almost midnight, we started packing the car. Two of the girls had decided that we needed no less than 8 5litre bottles of water. No suitcases had been packed yet. No food. No sleeping bags. The entire bottom of the boot was filled with bottled water. (At this point I swore that I was never going on holiday with girls again.) It made sense to them that you need to place it at the bottom since we can pack stuff on top of it. (I imagined for a second 8 bottles of water leaking at the same time due to the sheer weight of 3 suitcases on top) Eventually me and another girl started packing. Half an hour later half of the food was still standing outside and the middle of the backseat had a tower of luggage so tall the passengers would barely be able to see each other. At that point I decided to go to bed.
I now know why guys are important. Despite all the drama and pain the cause, they keep a certain level of normality in our lives. Things such as packing reasonably and not excessively (I’m guilty of not being able to pack concisely), leaving on time, planning practical aspects and being able to read a map are only a few of the loads of advantages of taking guys on trips. Plus they don’t giggle. (Just kidding, I giggle as well. New girls giggling just intimidate me)
So we left just after 5 for the border. In komatiepoort we stopper for petrol. It took about two hours since we needed third party insurance, two triangles (WTF??) and to change money. And coffee. To all of our surprise we could get 3 meticash (Mozambican currency) for ever R1. Which was a pretty awesome deal and made most of us instantly rich. I felt like a drug dealer, except less dodgy. There’s this big Mozambican “mama” with a handbag full of notes who stands at the middle of the garage (she apparently sleeps by the side of the road incase someone needs her) and trades your money for you. We decided that she must be a member of an important family like the gangster mafia, because if I were a thief she would be my first target.
From there we reached the border at about 9. To my huge surprise there was no que. It was an amazing feeling, walking through, getting your passport stamped. And knowing I was now on holiday. Mozambique, being the strange country that it is, has decided that the main role of the traffic police is to exploit unsuspecting (or suspecting, they aren’t picky) tourists in their country by dishing out random traffic fines and having you pay on the spot and trying to bribe you by making the fine a little less, but then you don’t receive a receipt.
My biggest moment of “I am NEVER going on holiday without a MAN again” was when we entered Maputo. After playing goldfish loudly and dancing in the car, we entered a web of traffic like nothing before. Now, I’m a firm believer that guys drive better than girls. It’s a simple fact. They decide on a course of action on the road and take it. Girls look at all the cars around her, become emotional, become scared, looks around at her options, thinks about them again, and as soon as the gap no longer exists, takes it, causing confusion to every car around her and making all the passengers an instant believer. Now the girls driving didn’t drive badly at all. I just feel safe with guys. They know how to drive. We don’t. It’s a fact of life. So, while we’re all trying to help this girl get safely through the traffic we realize we need to search for Maputo backpackers, where we are staying the night. Just to recap: none of us have ever been in Maputo, we have no number for the backpackers, we have no map, only what we think is an address. The one girl’s response “Oh, we’ll just drive around until we find it.” As if it’s not a city with more cars squeezed into one lane than sardines into a can. It’s like driving into Pretoria saying, “ah, we’ll find the (insert random name here)” Oh, plus, no one speaks English. In our broken portugese consisting of “Ola” and “Nao comprendo Portuguese” we try and ask if anyone knows where the backpackers is. Later we try asking if anyone knows where the beach is. Our sign language attempt at communicating looks like we’re doing the funky chicken on a 70’s classic.
So finally we stop at a pizza place. While two girls stay in the car being harassed by street venders, two of us jump out to ask. Thank goodness we find someone who speaks English. He seems to know the place and directs us there, which didn’t sound to hard. But don’t be fooled. An hour and a few close encounters with people in the road later we decide to ask for help again. This time we get different directions. We follow these and finally found the beach. A long strip of street and ocean that one can walk into for meters and still only be ankle deep. It was beautiful. Finally the one girl makes a (much too abrupt for me) left turn as she sees a sign “Maputo backpackers” We finally made it!
After settling in and a quick nap we set off exploring. We walk around and find a man who cuts a coconut in half for us for 5 meticash and gives us a straw to drink the juice from. Bad idea. Those island movies are simply a lie. Coconut juice has this horribly sour smell and no resemblance to the cocktails served in them on these movies. Anyway, we then decide to go out. By now I’ve gotten to know the girls more and they are actually very nice. There are 3 english speaking girls and 4 afrikaans (including me) The English speaking girls are the ones who take their time and don’t plan things, just randomly do what they feel like, and the Afrikaans people are structured and plan things, always being on time. This would set the scene for a few more almost-confrontations.
We then went out for dinner and after searching for the place we were that afternoon for directions for another half an hour we finally found parking. Having lost the other car somewhere we went inside. After about an hour we realized they were still not there. They then enter with the one girl in tears. Turns out the traffic police had decided that if you go one direction, turn right and right again to get to a parking qualifies as doing an illegal U turn. This is also punishable by a night in jail if you don’t dock up 300 meticash immediately. The sheer arrogance and insensitivity of this guy and their absolute exploitation of the law and of tourists makes me so mad I could scream. But they could do nothing, so they paid. We then had lovely pizza and red wine and then went back to the car. One of the funniest moments of the trip then commenced: as we neared the one car we saw that the car guard was doing his utter best to make sure no one stole the car. He was asleep on his back on the bonnet of the car. I laughed so hard I nearly cried.
After a good 15 minutes of cracking up we headed to the backpackers and finally day one came to an end.
To be continued…
When I got there I was met by some very nice girls. They were so sweet and very willing to get to know me and chat to me. But they were VERY girly. They giggled and hugged me for a very long time and every time a new girl arrived they would giggle and hug again. I don’t like giggling and hugging. Or new people. So, at about 9 o clock that night (after we decided to leave at 5 the next morning) they started packing food. At about 10 they decided to finally pack clothing. The entire process took almost an hour. One girl spread her entire cupboard on the floor and contemplated carefully which pieces to take and leave. This differs vastly from myself, throwing in jeans, short and T-shirts at random, adding my favourite items until the suitcase is overloaded as usual, then throwing a few things out, still needing to sit on it before it closes. I was also finished packing by 8 the previous night. Then it was decided (at 11:30 that night) that we need to go and make copies of our passports at the local police station. Jip. It was suddenly a priority. Getting there the policeman informed us of the fact that the office with the copying machine was in fact, locked. Until 8 the next morning. We wanted to leave at 5. After about half an hour’s conversation with the policeman ranging from criminals and guns to him eventually asking the one girl’s number, we finally left, deciding it was no longer a priority to get copies of our passports. So, finally, at almost midnight, we started packing the car. Two of the girls had decided that we needed no less than 8 5litre bottles of water. No suitcases had been packed yet. No food. No sleeping bags. The entire bottom of the boot was filled with bottled water. (At this point I swore that I was never going on holiday with girls again.) It made sense to them that you need to place it at the bottom since we can pack stuff on top of it. (I imagined for a second 8 bottles of water leaking at the same time due to the sheer weight of 3 suitcases on top) Eventually me and another girl started packing. Half an hour later half of the food was still standing outside and the middle of the backseat had a tower of luggage so tall the passengers would barely be able to see each other. At that point I decided to go to bed.
I now know why guys are important. Despite all the drama and pain the cause, they keep a certain level of normality in our lives. Things such as packing reasonably and not excessively (I’m guilty of not being able to pack concisely), leaving on time, planning practical aspects and being able to read a map are only a few of the loads of advantages of taking guys on trips. Plus they don’t giggle. (Just kidding, I giggle as well. New girls giggling just intimidate me)
So we left just after 5 for the border. In komatiepoort we stopper for petrol. It took about two hours since we needed third party insurance, two triangles (WTF??) and to change money. And coffee. To all of our surprise we could get 3 meticash (Mozambican currency) for ever R1. Which was a pretty awesome deal and made most of us instantly rich. I felt like a drug dealer, except less dodgy. There’s this big Mozambican “mama” with a handbag full of notes who stands at the middle of the garage (she apparently sleeps by the side of the road incase someone needs her) and trades your money for you. We decided that she must be a member of an important family like the gangster mafia, because if I were a thief she would be my first target.
From there we reached the border at about 9. To my huge surprise there was no que. It was an amazing feeling, walking through, getting your passport stamped. And knowing I was now on holiday. Mozambique, being the strange country that it is, has decided that the main role of the traffic police is to exploit unsuspecting (or suspecting, they aren’t picky) tourists in their country by dishing out random traffic fines and having you pay on the spot and trying to bribe you by making the fine a little less, but then you don’t receive a receipt.
My biggest moment of “I am NEVER going on holiday without a MAN again” was when we entered Maputo. After playing goldfish loudly and dancing in the car, we entered a web of traffic like nothing before. Now, I’m a firm believer that guys drive better than girls. It’s a simple fact. They decide on a course of action on the road and take it. Girls look at all the cars around her, become emotional, become scared, looks around at her options, thinks about them again, and as soon as the gap no longer exists, takes it, causing confusion to every car around her and making all the passengers an instant believer. Now the girls driving didn’t drive badly at all. I just feel safe with guys. They know how to drive. We don’t. It’s a fact of life. So, while we’re all trying to help this girl get safely through the traffic we realize we need to search for Maputo backpackers, where we are staying the night. Just to recap: none of us have ever been in Maputo, we have no number for the backpackers, we have no map, only what we think is an address. The one girl’s response “Oh, we’ll just drive around until we find it.” As if it’s not a city with more cars squeezed into one lane than sardines into a can. It’s like driving into Pretoria saying, “ah, we’ll find the (insert random name here)” Oh, plus, no one speaks English. In our broken portugese consisting of “Ola” and “Nao comprendo Portuguese” we try and ask if anyone knows where the backpackers is. Later we try asking if anyone knows where the beach is. Our sign language attempt at communicating looks like we’re doing the funky chicken on a 70’s classic.
So finally we stop at a pizza place. While two girls stay in the car being harassed by street venders, two of us jump out to ask. Thank goodness we find someone who speaks English. He seems to know the place and directs us there, which didn’t sound to hard. But don’t be fooled. An hour and a few close encounters with people in the road later we decide to ask for help again. This time we get different directions. We follow these and finally found the beach. A long strip of street and ocean that one can walk into for meters and still only be ankle deep. It was beautiful. Finally the one girl makes a (much too abrupt for me) left turn as she sees a sign “Maputo backpackers” We finally made it!
After settling in and a quick nap we set off exploring. We walk around and find a man who cuts a coconut in half for us for 5 meticash and gives us a straw to drink the juice from. Bad idea. Those island movies are simply a lie. Coconut juice has this horribly sour smell and no resemblance to the cocktails served in them on these movies. Anyway, we then decide to go out. By now I’ve gotten to know the girls more and they are actually very nice. There are 3 english speaking girls and 4 afrikaans (including me) The English speaking girls are the ones who take their time and don’t plan things, just randomly do what they feel like, and the Afrikaans people are structured and plan things, always being on time. This would set the scene for a few more almost-confrontations.
We then went out for dinner and after searching for the place we were that afternoon for directions for another half an hour we finally found parking. Having lost the other car somewhere we went inside. After about an hour we realized they were still not there. They then enter with the one girl in tears. Turns out the traffic police had decided that if you go one direction, turn right and right again to get to a parking qualifies as doing an illegal U turn. This is also punishable by a night in jail if you don’t dock up 300 meticash immediately. The sheer arrogance and insensitivity of this guy and their absolute exploitation of the law and of tourists makes me so mad I could scream. But they could do nothing, so they paid. We then had lovely pizza and red wine and then went back to the car. One of the funniest moments of the trip then commenced: as we neared the one car we saw that the car guard was doing his utter best to make sure no one stole the car. He was asleep on his back on the bonnet of the car. I laughed so hard I nearly cried.
After a good 15 minutes of cracking up we headed to the backpackers and finally day one came to an end.
To be continued…
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
