Exposé-mania?

It took me a few weeks from Facebook really hit it on in Norway til I actually joined. Can't be bothered I thought, too time consuming. I anticipated in a previous blog that my Facebook-career would be short and sweet, but unfortunately I have to admit that I haven't deactivated my account yet nor given up checking it weekly. Daily if there's a lot going on.

During my recent trip around Southern Africa people wouldn't ask for your e-mail, they'd find you on Facebook and before you knew it, know everything and a bit more about you. Where do you study? Where do you work? Add a quick Google-search to that and I know what you did last summer, how much money you made last year and what you'll have for dinner tomorrow. I know all about your ex'es, your grandma and your fling last summer. Not to mention your darkest secrets and that photo from the local newspaper when you were 13. Still embarrased about that, huh, and you curse Romerike Arbeiderblad every day for being so damn early on the internet.

I discussed it with Kristoffer, who's not the biggest Facebook fan, and he said that in a few years time, this "exposé-mania" will be our way of life, but looking at Twitter and Facebook-updates about anything and everything one could argue that it already is. But as he said, it takes 18 seconds to feel empathy, an important feeling in human relations, and Facebook-status-updates, sms'es or the 160 letters Twitter gives you to express your current situation just isn't enough for other people to care. So, what? We become a generation of narcisistic people desperately wanting people to care, but fail, because we use the wrong medium and should've written a letter instead? By hand? Jens Stoltenberg is on Twitter reaching out for the youth of Norway to vote for him in the next election. Mette-Marit and Haakon were just looking for a web-director to work with them in the Castle, mainly with stuff like Twittering and Facebook. "Kronprins Haakon is grumpy this morning. Long day ruling the country ahead." I can't wait til that pops up in my Twitter-feed.

Now as my newfound Twitter-interest is a fact I had to update my status on Facebook. But I'm not sure if updating my status to inform people that they now can follow me on Twitter as well might be a bit overkill? I mean, what about the rest of the world?

Pretty Woman

Considering my Facebook-status hasn't been changed to "Home at last" you can all guess that the flights last night were so overbooked there was no chance for a stand-by-ticket. As I was waiting in line several women broke down in tears at the counter as they were told there was no room for them on the plane, so my chances were pretty much gone before I'd even tried. I've threatened to make a similar scene tomorrow if that were to happen to me, but will solve that problem if it occurs.

Now however, I was stuck at the airport. I walked around for a while seeing the lines of people decreasing until just a few scattered people were around. Suddenly a brush of panic - is this really safe? I'm an airport-sleeper-virgin, and wasn't really sure I wanted OR Tambo to be my first, so headed over to the police-counter (there are several shattered around the airport, but not really sure if that indicates security or just danger and therefore the need for so much security), but he just grinned and said it was perfectly safe, they'd roam the airport all night, and I wouldn't have any problems. I was appointed to some silver chairs where I could stay and wouldn't be too lonely. On the seat next to me there was another girl passed out, and as she drowsily opened her eyes after a while I asked if she was going to stay the night and if so, if she wanted company, and then I got myself an airport-buddy! Robyn was 22 years old, her dad approved of her sleeping in the airport and she'd just been to America for six months. We had a great chat and nice dinner at Mugg and Bean, followed by a tour to find the best seat to sleep on. At the entrance to Arrivals there were a few slightly cushioned benches, so we faced them towards each other, locked the baggage to the trolley and went to sleep. I won't say this was the best sleep I've ever had, and as Robyn woke up at 4.30am to check in I was more than happy to join her for brekky at (you guessed it) Mugg and Bean. After she'd left I went up to the airport observation deck, took out my sleeping bag and slept for another two hours.

Of course BA couldn't get me on a flight tonight either, but at least I was going to opt for a proper sleep. I called the Airport Grand and they had rooms for ZAR 500 (about 350NOK, AU$70), and I thought what the heck, I'll go for it. It's overcast and not very nice in Jo'burg today, so the hotel didn't look very nice as we arrived. After Sunday night's dissapointment I have become more aware of how well hotel room photographers do Photoshop. Don't think there are many rooms that have exceeded my expecations from what have been shown in the pictures, but as I entered the room (and expecting something like the shoebox at Thon Hotel Tromsø) I was met by the crispy white linen on the massive double bed, a fully stocked bathroom (more important than a minibar) and a bathtub with my name on it and I felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, just after Richard Gere has accepted to pay her $3000 for her to stay the week. As Richard Gere walks out the door she runs through the apartment and jumps face first onto the bed, screaming with excitement.

I couldn't wait til the porter had left the room and did the same.

The Terminal

Yes, I know this blog title derives from a 2004-movie starring Tom Hanks, but at the moment I am at OR Tambo International Airport anxiously waiting to get on a flight home. The one I have scheduled leaves on Wednesday, but I just can't seem to accept that I have to wait that long.

The truck Janis, who/which have taken us 7000 kilometres through South Africa, Namibia, Botswana, Zimabwe and back again over the past three weeks finally arrived in Johannesburg last night. We had a short stop in Francistown, Botswana as one of the girls had to see a doctor, but otherwise it has been driving, driving, driving for the past two days. As I arrived at OR Tambo I was damn ready to get out of Africa as soon as possible, but the BA lady bitchily ignored my pleas and said the flight was not only booked, it was overbooked, so I had no option but to wait.

I went to a hostel I had booked before leave Cape Town, and despite being rated highest on the hostel-list it is one of the worst places I have seen since Guatemala. Brownie points for the free pick up, but the lady at the counter should be fired for her unpoliteness, the internet-provider for its lousy internett-service and the plumber for the terrible plumbing in the bathroom. Every camping place we've been to have had better fascilities than this one. But nevertheless, Heather, Tara and Emily joined me in the dorm and after watching Garfield we all went to bed and were bright and early awake at 7am this morning.

As the hostel could provide no food nor internet there was really no point in staying so we were at the airport before 10am to get some breakfast. I went back to the BA counter and the lady now at least made the effort to check for availability. As I went back a third time I was told to try for a stand-in spot at the check-in desk, and there I was again told to come back at 8pm to see how the story goes for the later flight.

So that's my current position. At Mugg and Bean, an excellent coffee and Belgian waffle place, making use of the wireless internet and waiting to (really, I just know it) to be turned down yet again and having to wait til tomorrow, possibly Wednesday to get home. Luckily Mugg and Bean is open 24 hour a day, and as there are plenty of police roaming the airport I am quite convinced this is the safest place to be in Jo'burg at the moment, so not really worried about that either. Where I will sleep however, that's another question, but still got one sleeping-bag that I didn't trade away, so should be able to figure something out...

Trade off

Florence stopped Camilla as she was about to chuck her old runners in the trash after two weat and dirty days in the Okavango delta. "Wait, you can trade them in Victoria Falls!" What? Trade our dirty old stuff for souvenirs?? Me like! So on Friday after a wet visit to the falls, we went through our luggage, got out everything that possible could be of interest to people in this run-down country and went to the market in high spirits.

As we walked out the entrance to the hostel we were met by four or five guys. They jumped up from their seated positions outside the hostel and came running towards us. "That's a nice sleeping bag!" "I like your pillow!" "Can I have a t-shirt for my sister!" Camilla ended up with a massive two-feet-giraffe and I am very excited to see if she gets it home in one peace. We had to be quite frank with the guys and tell them we were not interested as we would never have made it to the market otherwise and I only ended up swapping a discoloured t-shirt for three billion Zimbabwean dollars.

The market was no different story though. Stalls upon stalls with the same souvenirs, baskets, masks, wooden salad spoons, salad bowls and carved out figures of the Big 5, and hardly any tourists. Again was my sleeping bag (or Jim's sleeping bag - really) hot currency, and I didn't make it past the first stall with it. The little lady dragged it out of the bag, looked at it, felt the thickness of it before she smiled and gave me two wowen baskets for the sleeping back and US$ 2. Three minutes before she had demanded US$ 25 for one basket. And so we continued. Worn-out flipflops bought at PEP for R34 back in January suddenly became a little wooden bowl, three t-shirts and a few dollars became a tray, and Cristina's altered Abercrombie & Fitch jeans became her own souvenir present.

In the end I had enough bowls and stuff for a lifetime, so after repacking my bag yet another time I gathered some stuff in a small bag and went for a walk around the hostel. I saw the security guard swiping the floor and quietly went up to him. I felt bad even considering asking if he wanted my old junk, but went ahead anyway, and when it didn't take him a split second to accept and grab out for the bag, I realized it was probably the right thing to do.

Tsvangirai - you have a heck of a job to do with this country. Good luck.

You are in an unfamiliar location

Facebook have learned from their previous mistakes and security mishaps, so when I today tried to login from an "unfamiliar location" I was grateful towards their updated security system and the fact they asked me for date of birth to double check. Because yes, I am in an unfamiliar location. I am in Zimbabwe, number 5 of the world's failed states, a country where there are no change, no bacon in the pasta carbonara, where you mix up the billions and the trillions of the local currency, but nevertheless, where one of the world's 7 natural wonders are located - the mighty Victoria Falls.

It has been a marvellous trip through Southern Africa and although I am glad this stay is coming to an end and look forward to go home I don't regret the heat, the mossie bites, the long days in the truck, the uncomfortable nights in a tent, the pressure of writing exams and the time away a second.

See you soon!

Namibia

Another week has gone and we've driven Namibia back and forwards, northbound and southbound with a few stops in between. We started our trip with a visit to Fish River Canyon and quite a nice sunset followed by a trip to Soussousvlei and Dune 45. We had our earliest departure yet and raced up the sand dunes to get the sunset, only to stop half way, totally exhausted by the real size of the dune and taking it more slowly to the top. It were some amazing colours as we watched the sun rise over the desert, and we had an amazing walk with an interesting guide afterwards.

After a quick dip in Sesriem Canyon it was time to head to Swakopmund, the adventure capital of Namibia. It is a bit like Queenstown in New Zealand, and there were no way we would leave the place without some real action. Due to some of the people's affection for the bottle, we had to postpone our sandbording til after a night without partying, but we had an absolutely amazing morning with a sandboard and loads of sand, and we were covered in it from top to toe afterwards. I made up for my bad driving skills from the quadbiking by actually rocking the sand and the dunes, and it was all in all good fun.

We then went to Etosha National Park and I quickly had my first giraffe encounter. Talk about fantastic animals! Nearly kicked platypuses down from the top spot as my favourite animal. We spent two days in Etosha and met springboks (both the real and liquid version), zebras (crossing the road), oryx, rhinos, impalas and lions on our way and every minute on the bus was basically worth it.

Had a good night in Windhoek at Joe's Beer Garden where we had oryx for dinner. Yes, it was fantastic, and I only felt slightly sorry for it, although Heather proclaimed that her zebra wasn't good enough to kill it for, so last time she had that. Ostrich and crocodile was also on the menu.

Now we've crossed into Botwana and I spent the afternoon in the town where my parents worked in 1982 or thereabouts. Have tried to take photos of buildings that might be closer to 30 years old, in the hope that they might recognize something, but tomorrow we're heading out to the Okavango Delta for a mokoro (dugout canoe) trip and I'll try my best to stay clear of the hippos.

Big Brother Africa

Well, time flies when one is having fun! I left Cape Town nearly two weeks ago and am on tour to Victoria Falls. I wasn't sure what a trip of 24 people would bring, but I think it might be slightly comparable to Big Brother. 24 totally different people put together, not in a house, but on a 4x4 truck and it is supposed to take us through Namibia, Botswana and Zimbabwe. Some people are leaving us on the way and others joining (and unfortunately you can't vote people off), but otherwise I suspect it is slightly like Big Brother. We eat, drink and sleep in tents together and privacy is something belonging to another world.

A short introduction to the partcipants: an elderly, well-travlled and very down-to-earth Brit who unfortunately left us in Swakopmund, but kindly donated his sleeping-bag and pillow to me so I now no longer freeze or get a headache from sleeping on the ground. You have the single and explorative Australian who reminded me of my former accent (now nicely washed out to an inrecognizable mix), there are the older Germans and the teenypopper British girls who funnily enough matched up to become two pairs. There are the French people who are, well typically, French as well as a lovely German couple who also left way too early in Windhoek. In addition, a few alcoholics and our two guides. One of them very unprofessionally pulled me over on the third night and said that his heart forced him to proclaim his eternal love for me, immediately losing all the respect I could have had for him, and forfeiting any chance of getting a tip at the end of the trip. I told him I had a boyfriend at home, but he just shrugged his shoulders, told me to «feel free» and that I should be allowed an African boyfriend as well. I've ignored the bastard ever since, and if I get the chance I'll let him know that people like him are the exact cause of the HIV-pandemic on this continent.

Guess that's all for now. Cheers!