Category: voices inside my head


From left to right:

  1. Painting I saw at First Thursdays
  2. Pretty flowers on Lion’s Head
  3. Carrot cake flavoured ice-cream from The Creamery

It’s been nearly two weeks since I’ve booked my tickets to Victoria Falls International Airport and since then I haven’t done much in the way of research and planning. I haven’t booked accommodation, arranged for any tours or check that my yellow fever certification is still current, which is worrisome considering that I board said flight in less than two weeks. Instead I’ve spent the last two weeks feasting (Ramadaan just ended), teaching myself some Python scripting, and being paralyzed by fear.


You see, days after I booked my plane tickets to Victoria Falls (which is situated in Zimbabwe), I would learn via Twitter of the national shutdown protests in Zimbabwe. This ultimately leaves me with the following questions:

  • Is the Zimbabwean side of Victoria Falls safe to travel to?
  • Is it ethical to travel to a country where a majority of the citizens are clearly fed up with the current government?


Anyway, I’m currently reading “Into Thin Air“.

Here’s an extract from the novel:

“Straddling the top of the world, one foot in China and the other in Nepal, I cleared the ice from my oxygen mask, hunched a shoulder against the wind, and stared absently down at the vastness of Tibet. I understood on some dim, detached level that the sweep of earth beneath my feet was a spectacular sight. I’d been fantasizing about this moment, and the release of emotion that would accompany it, for many months. But now that I was finally here, actually standing on the summit of Mount Everest, I just couldn’t summon the energy to care.

It was early in the afternoon of May 10, 1996. I hadn’t slept in fifty-seven hours. The only food I’d been able to force down over the preceding three days was a bowl of ramen soup and a handful of peanut M&Ms. Weeks of violent coughing had left me with two separated ribs that made ordinary breathing an excruciating trial. At 29, 028 feet up in the troposhere, so little oxygen was reaching my brain that my mental capacity was that of a slow child. Under the circumstances, I was incapable of feeling much of anything except cold and tired.”

My dad
Last night, I accidentally introduced my dad to YouTube. And when I say accidentally, I mean that I was sitting in my parents’ living room, eating their free food and using their free WIFI to watch THIS awesome video of Beyoncé  and Jay Z’s Paris tour, when my dad walked by. (Please note that my dad thinks Beyoncé  is Britney.) After watching the clip twice, my dad said, “Play some Nicki Minaj. That one where she sings about her boom boom.” (He was of course referring to Super Bass.)

My “niece”
My one-year old “niece” can say a few words. In her vocabulary is “charger” and “money”. I can’t take credit for teaching her that, but I do plan on teaching her to say “wifi”.

Homeless man
A few days ago, I was having lunch at Amy Bun’s place when a beggar rang the doorbell.
Me: We don’t have anything.
Him: Can I speak to the boss please?

A few weeks ago, I attended Dizzy* and Juan’s housewarming party. At some point during the evening, a friend of Juan’s told the group that he’d heard this pick-up line and would like to share it with the group. Being the fun loving bunch that we are, we enthusiastically agreed to hear him out. We soon regretted our decision.
Him: Do you have pet insurance?
Group: Erm … no.
Him: Because tonight your pussy is going to get a pounding.

A few days ago, I pierced my nose. It’s been something that I’ve wanted to do for years now, but have never had the courage to attempt. It wasn’t so much the fear of pain that prevented me from asking (and paying) a complete stranger to puncture my facial cartilage, as much is it was the fear of something going wrong – scarring, infection etc.

On Saturday, I decided to stop being a pussy and marched my ass over to the piercing parlour. I chose a TINY, sapphire-coloured stud to adorn my face. The ring is so tiny that my brother first assumed it was glitter. My dad was no Sherlock Holmes either.

Me: Do you notice something different about me?
Dad: You’re really pretty?
Me: Try again.
Dad: Your hair is really nice?
Me: No. My nose!
Dad: It’s really big today?
Thanks, dad.

After selecting my jewellery, I took a seat and waited. Fear and panic started to rise. Fear and panic did not subside when the piercing artist (?) informed me that he would be with me shortly. The previous customer was just taking a little “nap”. Upon further questioning it was revealed that “nap” is code for “passing out”. And hadn’t I ever heard of people fainting in piercing parlours?

No, no I had never heard of people fainting in piercing parlours! I didn’t know that this was a common occurrence! I didn’t know that this was a concern! If I did, I wouldn’t be standing here right now!

But I’d already handed over R200 and wasn’t prepared to forfeit the cash. So I sat down. I closed my eyes, breathed in and let a complete stranger puncture my facial cartilage. And when it was all done I rejoiced. I’d never felt as beautiful or brave as I’d done that day (and I’ve skydived).


The following photo was taken in Rylands, Cape Town.
Mosque, Rylands, Cape Town

Lately, my days have been consumed with work, running, binge watching “House of Cards” (Kevin Spacey is so good) and chatting to the occasional cute boy.

Recent Whatsapp conversation with Fahiema:
Me: I just chatted to a cute boy. Two minutes after talking to him I realised that I had avocado all over my face.
Fahiema: LOL! What’s wrong with him? Totally an invitation for him to come and lick the avocado off your face, right?

Anyway, here’s a recent photo I took at Oblivion, which is one of my all-time favourite hangouts.

Oblivion Quiz Night

Oh and if you have the time, you should totally check out the “I, too, am Harvard” photo campaign. The campaign tries to highlight the voices of black students at Harvard.

Me: I just used Google to find out if Ludovico Einaudi is single.

MFS: Well? Was he?

Me: Google wasn’t very helpful. There’s very little information on his personal life. So I am not even sure if he likes women.

MFS: Don’t give up! I assume it will be good if he is single (and likes women)?

Me: LOL. He lives in Italy, is 57 and probably has supermodels throwing themselves at him.

MFS: Defeatist!

Me: You’re right. There’s nothing I can’t achieve with some time, handcuffs and chloroform. #StockholmSyndrome 

MFS: That’s the spirit!

Day 9


My first panic attack happens on Day 9 of the great adventure of 2013. I’m in Maputo. I arrived the previous evening from Johannesburg, via the Intercape bus.

I’m in Maputo and my bankcard won’t work. I’m not sure why. It was working earlier that morning. Now? The error message on the ATM screen simply reads: “Your time limit has been exceeded.” What does that mean? Has my bank cancelled my card? Surely they’d call BEFORE cancelling my card?

I try not to panic. I fail miserably at NOT PANICKING. I tell everyone on Twitter that my bankcard isn’t working and OMG it won’t be long before I’m scavenging through dustbins in order to sustain myself in Mozambique. I curse myself for tipping the waitress so generously. WHY? I tell myself that I’ll be fine ONCE I meet up with Cazz and Cougar in Vilanculos. But until then I can’t spend anymore money. I have no idea how much a taxi will cost from the bus stop in Vilanculos to my backpackers. So I forgo supper, which isn’t an easy task considering that I only had fresh pineapple juice and lemon ice-cream for lunch. Stupid, frivolous me! And I tell myself, that if worst comes worst, I can ask my father to book an immediately flight out of Mozambique. God, let it not come to that.  

I will later learn that:

  • My bankcard only works at a Barclays ATM.
  • That a taxi from Pambara (the bus stop at Vilanculos) to my backpackers (a distance of 20km) will set me back MTn1000. (That’s  almost R400.)


Hey remember me? My name’s Sid Kane and I used to blog. I USED to tell such funny anecdotes like, “Remember that time we had a homeless couple staying in our wendy house*? They’d sneak in at night and they’d keep us awake with their coughing and arguing. His fists, her face.”**

Anyway, the lack of blogging is a direct result of my hectic social life. And by hectic social life, I mean that I recently told a friend, “Today was so beautiful. And I knew I shouldn’t waste it. I thought of calling you and arranging something, but then I realized that this would mean putting on pants. And I was prepared to do that.” Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I give new meaning to the word LAZY.

Anyway, I’m currently reading “One flew over the cuckoo’s nest” by Ken Kessey. Extract to follow:

“There’s a shipment of frozen parts come in downstairs – hearts and kidneys and brains and the like. I can hear them rumble into cold storage down the coal chute. A guy sitting in the room someplace I can’t see is talking about a guy up on Disturbed killing himself. Old Rawler. Cut both nuts off and bled to death, sitting right on the can in the latrine, half a dozen people in there with him didn’t know it till he fell off the floor, dead. What makes people so impatient is what I can’t figure; all the guy had to do was wait.”

*Wendy house – Wooden play toy room

** Not even making any of this up. Think I was in high school at the time.

A few days ago my dear friend, The Technician, who lives all the way in Canada, asked me what I planned to tackle next on my bucket list. My bucket list as it currently stands, is incomplete and …  Well, I’m really not sure I WANT to have kids. They just seem like so much effort. And sacrifice. And come on, have we met me? I’m the girl, who once used masking tape to secure her baby cousin’s DISPOSAL nap.    


Anyhoo, we’re not here to discuss my inadequacies. Well, not today anyway. Today we’re here to talk about goals and “life buckets”. And things I’d like to accomplish in 2012. All of this is inspired by “Nicole is better”.


List of Things I’d Like to Accomplish in 2012


  • Run a 10km race in 60 minutes (My current PB stands at 63 minutes.)
  • Run a 21km in under 2:17
  • Run a 30km race


  • One international trip
  • One local trip (This one should be fairly easy to accomplish. Work will be hosting a conference in Kruger National Park and I’m hoping to send a couple of days there, at my own expense of course. I’m also hoping to combine this trip with a trip to Mozambique.)
  • Road trip to Bainskloof. (I’ve been talking about this one for ages, but yet to arrange something!)

Extreme Sports

  • Go stand-up paddle boarding (I’ve already purchase a groupon coupon. All I need do is, use it before 11 January.)
  • Abseil off Table Mountain (Yet another thing I’ve talked about, but have yet to organise.)
  • Surf at least once a month


  • Read 2 books per month*


  • Try a new dessert recipe at least once a month
  • Eat pizza at Massimo’s in Hout Bay


  • Take photos each weekend

* Have just ordered The Rum Diary by Hunter S Thompson. So excited.


Photo taken at Surfer’s Corner, Muizenberg.

Picture the scene. It’s four in the morning. I’m walking down the streets of New Orleans, which FYI has been voted the 6th dangerous city in America, with a guy I just met a few hours ago, looking for a drunk girl whose name I can’t even pronounce. Fun times!

Anyway, I’m off to bed. Not quite sure what tomorrow holds. Maybe I’ll take a ferry across the Mississippi?

I finally got around to checking out the Insectarium. More details to follow.

On practically every street corner in the French Quarter there’s some or other band playing.