Thursday, April 23, 2009
Wow. The funbus hasn’t really stopped since the Europeans rocked up in town.
How I am still alive and not in coma attached to an IV drip is beyond me.
Had such an awesome night out with both of them and a group of mates. I think we got home at about 4:30am, but it’s difficult to tell.
What a fun night. I slept in until 1:00pm. The boys are gone now and I miss them already.
Voting was in the air, and so was a Benetton jersey for the trip.
Bought astutely by one tired bitch at Hyde Park yesterday. Political debate arose in one of the meat markets we all headed to – is South Africa destined to ne the next Zumababwe? Basically are we fucked? Is he going to change the constitution? Do I start trying to apply for that ancestral British passport again?
I’ll be honest – Zuma's thirst for power and corruption scares the hell out of me.
All around Melrose Arch big fancy cars were pasted with ANC stickers, people specifically placed there – appearing affluent, driving past the restaurants ad nauseum.
How much do you think they got paid to do that? To subliminally campaign around one of South Africa’s elitest hotspots? Ant and I were having a quiet coffee, noticing all the cars were loitering – driving around and around mouthing the words ‘Vote ANC’ to passersby.
Dove: Who’d you vote for?
Peas: The DA.
Dove: Who should I vote for?
Peas: Well put it this way – are you voting for majority purposes or are you voting for political policies? It’s a toughie this year – I considered COPE for a while.
Dove: Which one will get people educated?
Peas: Good question. They probably all have ‘education of the masses’ in their policies, and yet where does the money go? The ANC’s clearly goes towards big cars that drive around Melrose Arch repeatedly…and therefore just mushroom the general carbon footprint AS well.
Dove: Sigh. What to do what to do.
Peas: Ant reckons that COPE will rejoin ANC again, eventually.
Interesting times ahead.
The DA sent me two text messages yesterday reminding me to 'Stop Zuma.' I like their chutzpah.
Fuck I’m tired. I have two days to recover and to basically start a new reserve tank of energy just to get through a night in Amsterdam alive.
Packing for a trip is almost more exciting than showing your boarding pass to the flight attendant as you step into the plane. And since my trusty old backpack has been places in the last ten years, I had two tonnes of sand from Brazil to empty out of it before packing in my ‘Euro Wardrobe.’
Was having an entire conversation with my backpack yesterday:
‘Aren’t you excited big guy, you’re going back to Europe! Remember when we went to America and you were stuffed full of skiing gear? Why is there STILL Argentine crap in here?’
What the devil do I take? I’m going to the Techno Style Capital of Europe, where everyone looks like rockstars – my wardrobe definitely needs some sjoosjing up - half of our holiday budgets are going towards the European fashion industry.
We’re going to go bananas.
As for the music in Berlin – this city was made for me. It’s techno or bust. Everywhere.
Good GOD am I EVER going to be able to return?