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Happy Holidays Y'all

Yes, it is that time of year and I am wishing you a happy holidays.

The Battle of the Christmas Trees!

It’s that time of year again. In a couple of weeks it will be Christmas, or as I like to call it ‘The Silly Season”. This is the one time of year when the child in all of us can be released with reckless abandon in the midst of all the plush and splendor associated with the festive season. The centerpiece of any self-respecting household symbolizing the Christmas spirit is that all important Christmas Tree. So when it came to selecting a tree, hubby and I unexpectedly found ourselves at opposite poles of the Christmas decorating spectrum which led to what will be going down in our history as ”The Great Battle of the Christmas Trees!”

It all started two weeks ago, December was looming and everywhere Christmas decorations sprouted in shopping centres, office buildings and neighbouring houses. This seeded the thought that maybe we should start planning how we would transform our humble abode into a Christmas wonderland. During our move, two years ago, our old Christmas tree was lost and perhaps luckily so. It was less than a meter tall (just big enough so as to not be too imposing in our then very small apartment), had serviced us for the last 9 years, had seen many a merry Christmas but unfortunately was also close to dilapidated and due for retirement. As we forage through our Christmas decoration treasure-trove the need for a new tree became apparent and was briefly discussed and we were in agreement, or at least that was what I thought. So when hubby brought home his interpretation of our new "Christmas Tree" I was somewhat mortified.

The following Friday hubby arrived home all excited about the tree he had purchased. The excitement was tangible, that was until he fetched the “tree” from the car and ceremoniously unveiled it on the dining room table. Barely 60cm tall it was a pile of sticks (presumably someone’s garden trimmings) hammered together in the form of a pine tree - dreadfully boring, barren, minimalistic and better suited as kindle for a barbecue fire rather than an opulent festive centrepiece. “What is this?” I confusedly asked, secretly hoping it was a practical joke. Elatedly and self impressed hubby responded “It’s our new Christmas tree, don’t you just LOVE it?” I paused for a moment trying to think of an appropriate diplomatic response, but as the reality that this was no practical joke sank in nothing was forthcoming and eventually I confessed that I absolutely hated it!

Hubby was unperturbed by my negative and somewhat icy reception of his newly discovered treasure. He appeared oddly enchanted by the sticks magical powers that I clearly was immune to and underwhelmed by. Hubby proceeded to dress the tree. Faerie lights, a couple of white and silver ceramic ornaments and our precious Chrystal Angle crowning the tree; he then switched on the lights and basked in self satisfaction. The tree looked like autistic woodpecker had build it while on some psychedelic drugs, then proceeded to poop perfectly shaped white ornaments on it with bits and pieces being periodically illuminated – the perfect place for spiders to nest and/or mites to breed. Looking at the pile of wood lit up it, in my mind, did not say Christmas but rather oozed the lackluster death of and total disregard for Christmas’ true essence and with each flickering of lights I grew more annoyed.  This tree had to go!

Naturally having had to stare at Woody the Drug Addict Woodpecker’s artwork for a whole week, this past Friday I proceeded to search for a proper traditional Christmas tree. I searched high and low and eventually found the perfect one. I always wanted to have a white Christmas tree, I am not really sure why, but I found one and took it home. With child like enthusiasm I set it up and dressed it with all the extravagance and grandeur deserving of the Christmas spirit. An hour later and it was ready and proudly erected and brightly illuminated in our lounge waiting to astonish and mesmerize all who gaze upon it. Then hubby arrived home.

Walking into the lounge he was unmoved by my tree’s magnificence, he grunted and proceeded to lecture me on how times are changing and how being stuck in the 1900’s is not a good thing. Apparently my tree was and is symbolic of an historical nostalgic artifact, a conclave of kitsch and not the festive objet d'art I thought it was. Hubby further shared his observation that my tree looked like the product of an hour long vomit fest by our four cats taking turns spewing glitter all over my brilliantly decorated precious beauty. As his tree tirade drew to an end I confidently said “I don’t care, my tree is still prettier than your pile of sticks!” Hubby turned away in disgust.

We didn’t speak for an hour rather opting to take our disagreement to cyberspace and fought it out of Facebook having our adoring friends play referee. During that hour opinions were shared and at the end most of cyberspace’s support was in my favor (I know hubby would beg to diver, but then he’s not writing this blog post now is he?). Eventually we realized our behavior was silly, infantile and unbecoming off the mature adults that we were supposed to be. Eventually we came to our senses and reached an amicable compromise: We both would keep our trees, not make our friends take sides about which tree is better; I will tone down mine and hubby will dress up his. And last but not least hubby will refrain from referring to his tree as a “Christmas Tree” and will do my utmost to stick to the “Less Is More Rule!” which is something I find almost impossible to do especially during Christmas – sigh...

So now our house has two Christmas trees, one minimalistic and understated and the other grand and generous. I don’t know how many other married couples have their own Christmas Trees or even have fights about them; maybe hubby and I are just a tad unconventional and overly adamant regarding our festive views. But one thing is for certain the silly season have only just begun and we sure are in for one hell of an interesting and jolly old time. Ho ho ho!

Till next time.

Jackie Beat - Santa's Baby

Halloween. Did you know?

With just over a couple of weeks until Halloween I thought it appropriate to share some little known facts with you about Hallows’ Eve.

1.) “Halloween” is short for “Hallows’ Eve” or “Hallows’ Evening,” which was the evening before All Hallows’ (sanctified or holy) Day or Hallowmas on November 1. In an effort to convert pagans, the Christian church decided that Hallowmas or All Saints’ Day (1 November) and All Souls’ Day (2 November) should assimilate sacred pagan holidays that fell on or around 31October.

2.) Halloween originated in Ireland over 2,000 years ago. Ireland is typically believed to be the birthplace of Halloween.

3.) The first Jack O’Lanterns were actually made from turnips.

4.) Halloween is the second highest grossing Commercial Holiday after Christmas.

5.) The word “Witch” comes from the Old English wicce, meaning “wise woman.” In fact, wiccan were highly respected people at one time. According to popular belief, witches held one of their two main meetings, or sabbats, on Halloween night.

6.) Samhainophobia is the fear of Halloween.

7.) The Owl is a popular Halloween image. In Medieval Europe, owls were thought to be witches, and to hear an owl's call meant someone was about to die.

8.) Trick-or-Treating evolved from the ancient Celtic tradition of putting out treats and food to placate spirits who roamed the streets at Samhain, a sacred festival that marked the end of the Celtic calendar year.

9.) Black and Orange are typically associated with Halloween. Orange is a symbol of strength and endurance and, along with brown and gold, stands for the harvest and autumn. Black is typically a symbol of death and darkness and acts as a reminder that Halloween once was a festival that marked the boundaries between life and death.

10.) Dressing Up as ghouls and other spooks originated from the ancient Celtic tradition of townspeople disguising themselves as demons and spirits. The Celts believed that disguising themselves this way would allow them to escape the notice of the real spirits wandering the streets during Samhain.

11.) Mexico celebrates the Days of the Dead (Días de los Muertos) on the Christian holidays All Saints’ Day (1 November) and All Souls’ Day (2 November) instead of Halloween. The townspeople dress up like ghouls and parade down the street.

12.) Teng Chieh or the Lantern Festival is one Halloween festival in China. Lanterns shaped like dragons and other animals are hung around houses and streets to help guide the spirits back to their earthly homes. To honour their deceased loved ones, family members leave food and water by the portraits of their ancestors.

13.) Halloween celebrations in Hong Kong are known as Yue Lan or the “Festival of the Hungry Ghosts” during which fires are lit and food and gifts are offered to placate potentially angry ghosts who might be looking for revenge.

14.) In the United States of America both Salem, Massachusetts, and Anoka, Minnesota, are the self-proclaimed Halloween Capitals of the world.

15.) In many countries, such as France and Australia, Halloween is seen as an Unwanted and overly commercial American influence.

Till next time.

Jealous Much?

In a week’s time hubby and I will be leaving on a jet plane bound for New York City *Jumping with joy*.  And this trip could not have come at a better time.  Of late, walking into my office feels like walking into an Alfred Hitchcock movie and I am not always quite sure what the plot is or if I will make it out alive.  I am tired, stressed the fuck out and I am in some serious need of a change of scenery and where better to go than the Big Apple.  Seeing as we will only be there for a week, we needed to do some serious planning about what we wanted to do and what we wanted to see within the confines of the limited time we have to do it in.  So after much deliberation this is what hubby and I have agreed on.

We have booked our flights on Etihad Airways and being the opportunistic little shit that I am, I took the liberty to write to them and politely asked if they would be so kind as to upgrade our economy class tickets to business class for free.  Needless to say I have not heard back from them.  So I will take that as them saying to me “ROFL! Nice try, but NO!”  The flights promise to be grueling.  We depart from Johannesburg to Abu Dhabi on an eight hour flight.  Then there is a three hour layover before we get onto a fourteen hour flight to New York.  The return flights are not much better.  It pretty much is the same thing but to make matters slightly more uncomfortable, we only land back in Johannesburg at the ungodly hour of 04:25am.  Flying business class would have made the flights a little more comfortable, but not being millionaires we are stuck in cattle class. Fuck!

As for NYC from all the hotels we could choose from we decided to stay at the Yotel (NO, this is not a typo, it really is the hotel name).  We choose this hotel for three reasons: 1) The hotel has the quirky meets modern combination that I like and has free WiFi (which is essential for me) 2) The hotel is centrally located (practically on Time Square) and walking distance away from some of the places we want to go to and 3) It has a fucking fabulous terrace and they serve cocktails with brunch!  Seeing as we will be on a tighter schedule than Lady Gaga while on tour, I do suspect that we will not spend a whole lot of time in the hotel apart from sleeping there and drinking all those fantastic cocktails at brunch or happy hour.  But at least we know what to expect from the hotel and they are somewhat affordable.  So what do we plan to do while in NYC?

Like I said before we plan our trips with military precision (we are synchronizing our watches to NYC time as I type this).  If anything, hubby and I are pedantic bitches when it comes to itineraries and we had a good few heated discussion when we were busy deciding which touristy things we were going to do (FYI: a democratic voting system does NOT work when there are only two people involved in the voting process).  So after a few books and maps got hurled across the room in a dramatic drama queen fashion, we eventually came to a mutually agreeable itinerary that’s broken down into days and hours.  Don’t worry, I will not bore you with the fine print, I will just give you a general idea as to what we got planned for our own general safety.  You never know who is going to read this and I don’t want to get kidnapped by a stalker in New York never to be seen or heard off ever again.

One of the places I absolutely have to visit is The World Trade Centre and the National September 11 Memorial Museum.  I am not quite sure if the museum is open for the public yet though.  I lost a friend in the South Tower on 9/11 and I do feel a strong urge to go and pay my respects to her.  We also decided to go to Battery Park to see the Statue of Liberty.  We will not actually go to her as that will waste too many hours.  Besides I have been inside a woman once and I didn’t like it, so I have no urge to go inside Miss Liberty even if people are now allowed to do so again.  Seeing as we will be close to the financial district we will also go to Wall Street, if only to stare at all those folks who are “Occupying Wall Street”.  That should make for an interesting photo opportunity and I really do hope they are still there protesting while we are there.

Another important item on our list of things to do is going and spending half the day at the Guggenheim Museum.  They will be exhibiting Rineke Dijkstra’s “A Retrospective”, Kandinsky 1911-1913 and the Thannhauser Collection.  Naturally there are also a number of other art pieces that I want to see and I am really looking forward to it.  You also cannot go to New York and not see a Broadway show.  After some deliberation we settled on watching Mamma Mia.  It was really hard to choose which show to watch but, in the end, we chose the gayest one!  Who wants to see “Spiderman the Musical” anyway?  It just sounds stupid and like some performer is bound to get hurt.  Oh wait, that actually really happened.  Off Broadway also seemed like a good option but we won’t have time.

Being married to a Fashion Designer (a creative god and bat shit crazy genius at times) he insisted that we also work Parson: The New School for Design and Mood Designer Fabrics into our itinerary.  We both love Project Runway and this is our equivalent of the Sex and the City tour.  Also on the list is the Empire State Building.  I am terrified of heights so it should be interesting being on the 86^th Floor’s Observation Deck – I might throw up, so be warned people!  At least I know we will find the building really easily – we just have to look up, apparently you can’t miss it.  We will also be spending some time in Central Park, it’s really big and we have to work in a romantic horse carriage ride.  I know Peta and some New Yorkers have an issue with how the horses are treated and that it’s not ethical.  But hey, I don’t know when we will be in New York again, and this is on our must do “to do list”, so sorry.

Buildings and attractions are not the only touristy things that we plan on doing, we also want to go to certain well know neighborhoods and different New York Boroughs.  These include the now trendy Hell’s Kitchen, the Meat Packing District, Soho, Little Italy and China Town.  There is also plenty to do and see in Queens, Brooklyn and Bronx but I fear that we may only get to see Manhattan due to our time constraints.  I guess this is a pretty good and convincing excuse as to why we will need to visit New York again.

Yep, in a week’s time we will be in New York City and as you can see we are going to be fucking busy.  My iPad is uploaded with everything we need to make every second of our trip count:  Subway guides, Foodspotting for when we get hungry, The Essential New York Tourist Guide and plenty more.  I can’t remember the last time I was this excited for a trip and when last I had so many people green with envy.  New York here we come.  Hope you are ready for us bitches!

Till next time.

New York City

It’s official.  The end of September hubby and I will be leaving on a jet plane bound for New York City.  I am more excited about this trip than a six year old child on Christmas morning.  I can almost loose bladder control – I am that thrilled!  The only part of the trip I am not looking forward too is spending 8 hours in economy class, then a 3 hour layover in Abu Dhabi and then another 13 hours again in Economy class until we finally touchdown at JFK in New York.  I have wanted to visit New York for a very long time and now it is finally going to happen.  The only thing that currently stands between me and New York is the Visa application.

As some of my regular readers know I have travelled for work and for pleasure to some interesting countries in the past.  Hubby and I have been to Egypt and Madagascar twice respectively, I have been to Kenya three times and a while back I travelled to Luxembourg for a meeting.  Some of these countries required visas with some visa applications being more labor intensive than others.  The procedure normally is simple.  You complete the plethora of forms; attach the supplementary documents, photos and your passport, all of which normally would take you less than an hour to complete.  You drop your application off, pay the fee and wait between 3 to 5 days and you are done.  So when I needed to apply for the US visa I assumed to process would be similar, but I was wrong.

You can apply for your US visa online and as such one would assume that the process is fast and simple, but it really isn’t.  You complete the DS-160 Nonimmigrant Visa Application online and it takes just over an hour (86 minutes to be exact).  The reason it takes so freaking long is because there are so many questions one need to answer.  Some questions are quite relevant but others are pretty odd.  While completing the forms, at one stage, I got so confused that I had to phone a friend.  I was searching a good twenty one minutes for a number in my passport that did not exist.  It was frustrating and nearly drove me nuts.  To add further pressure and frustration, if you take more than 20 minutes before answering a question (while for example you are searching for a fictitious number in your passport) and you did not write down your application ID number you have to start the whole process afresh.  I can guarantee you that you will only make this mistake once.

After completing your personal details, travel plans, education and work experience you get to the security related questions.  It is here were it gets a little bizarre.  “Are you planning on engaging in prostitution or have you in the last 10 years engaged in prostitution?  Are you the child of human traffickers?  Have you ever received any specialized training in weapons, chemical weapons or nuclear weapons?  Have you ever been involved in any Nazi activities?  Have you ever been involved in overthrowing a government or plotting to do so?  Are you a terrorist?  Are you associated with a terrorist group?  Do you fund terrorists?” These are just some of the questions that had me scratching my head.

Now don’t get me wrong, I do understand and have a full appreciation for why some of these questions are being asked.  The US is currently still involved in a war and after 9/11 the world has never been the same.  But with that said if a terrorist, a spy, human trafficker or former Nazi complete the visa application form what are the chances that they will answer yes to any of these questions?  It is not like human traffickers wear t-shirts that reads “I can sell your daughter, ask me how?” or drug traffickers will pitch up at the consulate with a t-shirt that reads “I can carry 22 condom wrapped heroin bullets in my intestines, can you?”

Sure some people at whom these questions are directed will lie when completing these forms and it is for this reason, I suppose, the US consulate schedule the personal interviews.  After you completed what feels like a thousand questions you submit your application and print out your application page with a barcode on it.  Then you are directed to another website and a good hour later you have paid for your visa (which is non-refundable of course) and have scheduled your personal interview.  Our interviews have been scheduled for July 13 at 8am.  I hope that this is not a bad omen.  It is Friday the 13^th and it is early and I am not a morning person.  I hope I will be more articulate and dazzling than what I expect I will be after having had to get up at 5:30am in order to drag my tired gay ass all the way to the US consulate in Johannesburg in peak hour traffic.

Look, I don’t see any good reason why our visa applications could be denied.  As far as I know we are not on any terror watch lists, don’t know how to assemble a nuclear weapon or are involved in drug smuggling or human trafficking.  And the only countries that I know off which definitely would deny me entry are Uganda and Zimbabwe only because I am gay and they despise my blog.  So in the mean time while we wait for our personal interviews hubby and I are busy researching and planning what we want to do while in New York.  There are so many places we want to visit, Broadway shows we want to watch and famous landmarks we want to see that for the short time we are going to be there I suspect we will not be getting a lot of sleep.

With me being a tad OCD and hubby being a typical Virgo and meticulous planner I know that we will have one hell of a detailed and tight itinerary.  Every second from the moment we land to the moment we leave will be accounted for with a comprehensive multimedia schedule uploaded to my iPad paired with a New York City app.  I am so looking forward to it.  I can barely contain myself.  Punch me in the gut and call me Betty.  We are going to New York!

Till next time.

The Day I Almost Died

There comes a time in every man’s life when he is faced with his own mortality.  Unfortunately these moments come at the most inopportune times and they are unattractive, unsettling and offensive.  Regrettably for me I had two such moments all on the same day.  Once at a very small airport on an Island called Nosy Be in Madagascar and the second more protracted one on the international flight back to Johannesburg all culminating in just over 12 hours of unadulterated hell.

This past December hubby and I agreed to take our annual holiday and spend it in Madagascar.  We both had a hellishly busy year and needed to get away to place that was remote, tranquil and quiet.  We decided to go back to Sakatia Lodge, a place we visited back in 2009 which met all the requirements for the relaxing break we so desperately needed.  We decided to stay for 12 glorious days, and glorious they were, at least up until day 11 that is.

You see, for the first 10 days we lounged around, I read three books, we swam, snorkeled, scuba dived and went horse riding.  It was utterly fabulous!  Then came day 11.  I woke up not feeling my normal gay self.  There was a distinct discomfort in my abdomen and I had a slight fever.  Naturally, I thought I was constipated seeing as I am full of shit most of the time anyway.  But, even though I was in some pain we went ahead and did a day trip and we were also scheduled to do quad biking in the afternoon.

The day trip was pretty much overshadowed by me being in pain, having difficulty walking and secretly wishing that I could have a bowel movement to ease the discomfort I was feeling.  I ended up in three rather dodgy public toilets, each time sitting down waiting for the dump that never came.  By late afternoon we made it to the quad biking.  By that time the rational side of me knew it probably wasn’t a great idea, but seeing as it was our last day in Madagascar I was determined not to ruin anyone’s fun and try to have some fun myself.  Sadly, it was not on the cards.

You see, when you have the apocalypse happening in your innards going up and down hills on a quad bike for two hours is not as much fun as one would think.  I was in pain, being shaken about, getting dirty and sweating profusely.  It wasn’t pretty.  It wasn’t fun.  It felt like it would never end.  But two and half hours later it did end and after taking the boat back to the lodge and consuming a large number of laxatives I finally made it back to our bungalow, stripped down to my underwear and lay on the bed in front of the fan reeling in pain.

The lodge manager eventually brought me a handful of pills:  a strong laxative and something for abdominal and ovarian cramps and spasms.  It did help somewhat and I made it down for dinner even though I didn’t eat anything, but I did have a couple of gin and tonics.  At exactly 4 o’clock the next morning, an hour before we needed to take the boat that would take us to the taxi that would take us to the airport; I woke up in excruciating pain.

I was crawling on the floor unable to stand upright.  I thought I was going to die!  A couple of pain pills and thirty minutes under a warm shower, I managed to get dressed, get on the boat, then into the taxi and got to the airport.  Then the real hell started.  Our flight to Antanarivo was cancelled due to the plane’s engine having some kind of problem.  We ended up being delayed for four hours waiting for another plane which could take us directly to Johannesburg.

In the mean time the pain I was experiencing grew exponentially worse to the point that I was actually hyperventilating, sweating and unable to stand up straight.  This placed me in a very precarious situation.  If I looked too sick the airline could prevent me from boarding.  After all which airline would knowingly welcome a medical emergency 30 thousand feet up in the air over the Indian Ocean?

All I could think about was that I didn’t want to pass out and wake up under a mosquito net with a Catholic nun patting down my sweaty brow with a dirty wet towel while praying for me, with the sound of chickens and goats outside, while hubby is being molested by a priest and the natives rummaging through our luggage.  Luckily my tan and Botox sufficiently concealed how sick I was and standing and sitting in the airport with my hands placed on either side of my ribs made me look more annoyed that our flight was cancelled rather than me being in pain.

After what felt like an eternity our plane finally came and we boarded.  The plane took off and 15 minutes into the flight I turned to hubby and said “I don’t think I am constipated.  I think I need to go to a Hospital!”  He had a look of total helplessness on his face and from that point on his job became to give me a pain pill every 20 minutes and to pray for a tail wind.  The 3 hours and 26 minutes flight was utter hell.  I was in pain, couldn’t breathe and was alternating between having a fever, chills and sweating.  At that stage the cabin crew knew there was a problem but choose not to get involved.

As we were making our final approach to Johannesburg I was never as happy to see that smog filled skyline.  I was almost home and I was going to live.  The plane landed and within an hour I was in hospital.  First they thought I had appendicitis and then after numerous blood tests, X-rays and a CAT scan I was finally diagnosed with double pneumonia.

Relieved that we found out what was wrong with me, I was ready to go home and have a shower.  As I was collecting my stuff to go home the doctor looked at me with a very perplexed expression on his face and said “No! Stop!  You are a very sick man we are admitting you to hospital now.”  To which I responded “Ok, but I’ll go home, have a shower, get some stuff and come back.”  To which he rather abrasively responded “There are showers in hospital!  You are NOT leaving”

Then there was the HIV issue “I know this is a sensitive matter” the doctor said “Are you immune compromised?” he asked.  “Well, I smell like shit, I am in pain, can’t breathe and have been in transit for the last 12 hours in my condition, the only thing that is compromised right now is my fucking patience!  AND NO I am NOT HIV+!” I responded and then proceeded to ask him whether they always assume that all gay men who come into hospital with pneumonia have HIV.  In retrospect I guess I was a bit hard on him, but then again I was not in a good place at that moment.  I was admitted minutes later.

I was in hospital for 5 fucking long days, had blood drawn 17 times and had 12 injections.  The day of my discharge I had a particularly rough morning.  The student nurse who tried to fix my IV ended up bursting one of my veins.  I completely lost it!  I phoned hubby sobbing pleading with him to come and fetch me.

After composing myself and returning to my room, my doctor came and just as he asked me how my evening was I lost it once again but this time spectacularly so doing the ugly cry with snot dripping from my oxygen tubes that were stuck in my nose.  Like an emotionally disturbed child I was sobbing holding out my bruised and battered arms pointing at each of them while being completely incoherent.  He ended up discharging me but under strict conditions.

The doctor told me to monitor my temperature every 4 to 8 hours, I had to return for more blood tests, was to get bed rest for at least one more week and if I had any breathing problems or if the pain increased I was to return to hospital immediately.  In the sternest voice I have ever been spoken too he conveyed all of these conditions and ended with saying “If you do not follow this you could die!”

I have been home now for a couple of days and am feeling better.  They say it takes some time to recover from pneumonia and I can attest that it is not fun.  I will not be going out in public for at least a couple of more days, my arms and hands are still bruised making me look like a heroin addict.  At least I made it home, am alive and maybe someday I will look back at this experience and think it is funny.  But for the moment it really isn’t very funny at all!

(Disclaimer:  This blog post was written entirely in bed while medicated.  I'm in no position to operate heavy machinery and I suspect I should not be blogging at the moment either!) 

Till next time.

Pinky & the Brain: Aquatic Domination

This funny video was the brain child of Jacques Vieira of Sakatia Lodge who would come to us every morning and ask "So boys, what's your plans for today?" to which hubby would answer "The same thing we do everyday..."

Then there was our Quad Biking trip around Nosy Be island.

The best for last, our dive - truly spectacular!

"Mad" Air to Paradise.

2009 was without a doubt a long and difficult years. Therefore, during August I decided that hubby and I needed a holiday destination that was remote, beautiful and affordable. We needed to go to an island! So my search began for the perfect location. Every spot I found either was too populated, too expensive or really rural, and we don’t do the roughing it thing. Finally, I heard about the Coup d'etat that happened in Madagascar during January 2009 that lasted until November. My first reaction was “Fabulous, so it will be cheap!” After searching several lodges on the surrounding islands I found the perfect spot, a place called Sakatia Lodge and made my booking and so our adventure began.

On Boxing Day we were scheduled to fly to Madagascar on “Mad Air”, so nicknamed due to their lack of keeping flight schedules, lack of English and warning passengers that smoking and lying in the aisles of the plane drunk is strictly prohibited. Our flight was delayed by an hour, which was a good thing because our luggage was overweight. I was horrified as I am incapable of travelling light and every item in our luggage I viewed as absolutely essential. So we sat on the floor, redistributed some items and Voilà we ended up checking 3 bags into cargo instead of 2. Having had to also catch a national flight from Antananarivo to Nosy Be, I was seriously concerned that we would miss our 2nd flight, but was assured that they would keep our flight grounded until we arrived there. On arrival I was pleasantly surprised to find that this was exactly what they did and we made it safely to Nosy Be along with 40 other annoyed passengers who were delayed 2 hours due to us. So you can imagine the stares we got.

On arrival at Nosy Be we were transferred by taxi to the pickup spot where the boat would take us to Sakatia Island. We arrived there with a young newlywed couple, a mom and her son and a group of 13 people. While waiting for our luggage to get loaded onto one of the boats the woman asked me and my hubby whether we were there on our Honeymoon, I just giggled and told her no we have been married now for 3 years and this was just a normal holiday. I could tell some of our group was taken aback by her frank nature and we were in for some interesting times. Eventually everything was packed and we boarded our boats and set off to the Island. We were welcomed there by the couple that runs the lodge and a much needed rum cocktails. We were briefed on the workings of the lodge, then finished a delicious dinner and fell into bed to be roused the next morning by the awakening forest and the gentle sounds of waves licking the shore - we woke up in paradise!

Our 1st day was spent lounging around, swimming and snorkeling - a perfectly relaxing start. Then it was suggested we go scuba diving, something I have never done before. The dive was appropriately called “baptême de qc” French for baptism. The 2 dive masters would do practically everything for us; the only thing we had to do was breath and swim, sound simple enough. However, once I hit the water and got strapped into my scuba gear the 1st thing that went through my mind was “O God, am I really going to do this?” Descending to the 2 meter drop was hysterical to watch. I was bopping around, first on my back almost hitting my head on the bottom of a boat then on my stomach and keeping vertical seemed impossible. Eventually the one dive master took over and I successfully made it to the bottom. Once there I was relaxed and completely enthralled with the wonderland below the surface that so few people get to appreciate. After an hour of diving I returned to the surface hooked on the sport, and we had a second dive later. The only drawback of the 2 dives was that my left year got blocked and I was practically deaf in that ear. So every now and again I had to remind hubby and other people to speak into my “good ear” if they wanted any chance of coherent conversation.
On our 2nd night a British woman and her friend arrived at the lodge that had a striking resemblance to Meryl Streep and she was aptly nicknamed “Meryl”. The next day we were scheduled to visit Nosy Komba (Lemur Island) and go snorkeling on Nosy Tanikely (a Marine Reserve) to swim with wild sea turtles. It would be a short drive to the harbor and then 3 boat trips. On our way to the harbor we made a stop in Hellville in order for some folk to change currency. I was under the impression we would visit a bureau de change and we did, it just was not what I expected. We visited a human ATM who climbed into our taxi with her purse, it was odd and I later heard it was also illegal. While the human ATM was doing her thing I took a short walk through Hellville and counted up to 6 chickens being slaughter right on the sidewalk. I guess they don’t call it Helville for nothing and chickens, ducks and zebus can attest to this!

While waiting for our boat to Lemur Island, hubby said he needed to pee, after enquiring from both our guide (Kiki) and the police I had to inform hubby there were no toilets and he would have to hold it. The 45 minute boat ride was pure torture for him and seconds after the boat hit the shore he sped off and returned to the group much more relieved. Lemur Island was fascinating, we got to feed the Lemurs, saw their indigenous chameleons and I even faced my fear and held a snake. The only bad thing was the heat. I was sweating like a fat chicken in Hellville, and was dumbfounded by some of the other tourist who was walking around with long sleeve shirts and jeans. After some shopping we left for the 2nd Island. An hour later we arrived and were amazed to discover the most beautiful and unspoiled beach. We could not wait to get our snorkeling gear on and find those turtles. I didn’t have to search far before I spotted my 1st wild sea turtle. They are amazing and graceful creatures and I was completely mesmerized and spent the next few hours swimming with them. We had a short but delicious picnic on the beach that included some uninvited guests and these lizards really seemed to enjoy the rice. We then headed back to Hellville where we were returned to our Island by boat and spoiled with the most breathtaking sunset.
On New Year’s Eve the theme at our lodge was black and white. The lodge was nicely decorated and everyone was in the mood for a party, and needless to say the champagne was flowing. After a feast that included crayfish, huge langoustines and much more we were ready for the countdown to 2010. As 2009 ended and well wishes for 2010 was concluded the natural thing to do was go skinny dipping, which the majority of the lodge did, this is also how I lost my pants. Whether I misplaced it or it was hidden still remains a mystery. As they say, what happens on Sakatia stays on Sakatia.

The next morning, being slightly hangover hubby and I found some relieve with Bloody Marys and the rest of the day was lazed away in the warm and calm water. This would be our last day there and we were sad to leave. That evening, while packing our bags, we reminisced on all our great experiences and vowed to return. As our final flight departed and I looked out of the window watching the island I have now become so fond off become smaller in the distance I knew that the experience has left me relaxed, gave me a new energy and a positive outlook for the year to come. Sakatia Island (Cat Island) and Sakatia Lodge was just what the doctor ordered and I hope to be back there soon.

Till next time.

The Obligation to Happiness - by Timothy Guerreschi

Hating Christmas

It’s that time of year. Bells, shiny balls, frosted windows, mistletoe, fat jolly bearded men and Christmas trees are taking over our shopping malls, office buildings and family homes. Seasonal jingles and music are resonating in every shop, elevator and accompanies every second television advertisement. If you don’t like it – tough eggnog! We will be stuck surrounded with festive seasonal paraphernalia well into January 2010. After bitching to my husband about feeling harassed by Christmas he annoyingly responded by saying “Well you never did liked Christmas anyway!”. His response made me sound like Ebenezer Scrooge from the Charles Dickens novel “A Christmas Carol”. It’s not that I don’t like Christmas and needs an urgent visit from the three Ghosts of Christmas, I just find some parts of it intolerably irritating.

The first time I was disillusioned by Christmas was at age 5. You see I may have been a small child but I wasn’t stupid. I figured out that Santa Clause did not really exist by means of logical deduction. For him to be real there could only be one of him, yet I saw many of him in malls. Secondly, he was fat so how the hell could he fit down a chimney and manage to emerge clean as a whistle and not make a mess. Thirdly, his elves was suppose to make my gifts and Santa was suppose to deliver them on Christmas day, yet I saw what I wanted in the toy shops and later discovered my presents, a week in advance, hidden away in my parents’ closet.

Armed with these three primary facts I confronted my mother. She fervently defended his existence up to the point when she realized I was not going to budge. She finally asked me "If Santa really didn’t exist would it spoil your Christmas?" to which I responded "Only if that meant I was not going to be getting my presents". A brief further discussion settled the matter and no family member had to impersonate Santa Clause again after this.

I find the fact frightening that Christmas advertisements and decorations start appearing as early as mid November with the full onslaught the beginning of December. It’s like a countdown to one massive shopping spree that is being forced upon me. Naturally I want to spoil my loved ones with something special; I just don’t like the pressure! Being an enormous procrastinator when it comes to Christmas shopping I always find myself in the unfortunate circumstance of having to do my shopping a couple of days before Christmas.

Reaching the mall you never find parking in under an hour and once you have, going into any mall, during this time, is like being dropped in the Amazon River during a piranha feeding frenzy. Not being fond of big crowds and being well aware that I am not the only stressed out shopper, I have noticed that this brings out the worst in people. I once saw two women actually fighting over the last Tickle-Me-Elmo toy which was all the rage for kids that year, it was a vicious fight and at the end of the day neither got the toy and security escorted them out of the shop. I too have done the same. I am not proud of it, but it’s like the demon spirit of Christmas shopping overwhelms you and you just can’t help yourself. The stress of shopping, the background music, the decorations and angst all combines to turn normal people into raging idiots with credit cards.

Christmas is all about the joy of giving, or so they say... Yes, I do enjoy giving presents and seeing the joy of the recipients. However, getting to that point is the annoying bit - I cannot gift wrap anything! In the past I have made some brave attempts but always failed as the gifts usually ended up looking as if they were in a car wreck. If the item has an odd shape never attempt gift wrapping it yourself, one such endeavor took two hours of my life which I will never get back and I can’t recall ever cursing any inanimate object that much in my life before or after that day.

Luckily I am married to a brilliantly creative man who can gift wrap a garden fork and make it look spectacular. The planning he puts into the theme, color scheme and gift wrapping accessories is just insane, and all the presents we give are uniquely branded after he’s done with them and puts all the other gifts to shame no matter what their content.

Food is the one thing I truly love about Christmas and I enjoy preparing it. This is the one thing I can honestly say I am good at during the festive season. Give me a budget, a well equipped kitchen and hungry mouths and I am quite content. Unfortunately this is also the one territory off which I am fiercely competitive and brings out the Martha Steward Bitch in me.

When the family gathers and each member have to bring a different dish, mine absolutely MUST be the best! So screw desert, screw starters and side dishes I will do the main course and it will be bloody magnificent!! Many members of my family have tried to upstage my dishes in the past and all have failed miserably, but on the upside this rivalry always makes for a fabulous feast.

Christmas is a time of joy, giving and spending time with one’s family. Admittedly there are aspects leading up to the actual day that I find tedious and irritating. I don’t like Santa Clause even though he’s not real I still think the fat bastard should go on a diet. I don’t like the fact that I have to spend an hour looking for parking at a mall and then have to fight off other shoppers to purchase the presents I’m looking for. I don’t like gift wrapping or having to stand in a queue to have it done professionally, but luckily I have a husband who does that with flair, enthusiasm and for free.

I am no Ebenezer Scrooge hating Christmas as I actually love it, I just don’t like the technicalities and the buildup. But once the day arrives, all annoyances are soon forgotten and festivity fulls the air with joy and peace.

Till next time.

Jackie Beat-Santa's Baby

Dipping my toes into fire

This is my first blog and it is scary as hell!!!!

My first thought when my husband suggested i start one was "what the fuck have you been smoking?!" No one on the net would want to read what I have to say. Then I had a couple glasses of wine and the idea didn't seem as stupid or daunting, after all alcohol does give one courage to attempt all thing against better judgment. Then when the buzz of the alcohol really kicked in the idea seemed even better, because why should I only bore him with my rantings and ravings if I can do it with so many more people out there, and also bore them into a second rate non Valium induced coma. So here goes, my first blog entry.

I just returned from a very nice and relaxing holiday, or rather the week at the beach was the nice and relaxing part - before that was xmas and family and all the drama and family stress that goes along with it (if you have ever cooked a turkey and had one unsavoury family member you wish would have been dead by now you would know what I mean).

I planned my holiday in such a way that I could get the family part out of the way first because:

1) I am married so hence there are two families to keep happy;

2) My family is dysfunctional but I love my sister and she had her second child on 15 December 2008, so I kinda knew that this part of the family would be little effort as new baby equals "low key: get the family out of my house by 10pm";

3) My father is screwed up and I knew he and my codependent psychopath stepmother would try and fuck xmas up for all of us, so I had to be prepared for that drama;

4) My in-laws, who I also love to bits, are very big on xmas and it is always a production. With production, i mean you need staff and a project manager to coordinate the "event"!!!

Xmas went of as planned. We left my sister's house at 21:40 and everything before that was very pleasant and we all had a fabulous time. As expected my stepmother did phone me two days before xmas and tried her usual demonic psychodrama on me, but due to me being hung over, from the night before, I lacked the attention span to be adequately affected. The Xmas extravaganza at the in-laws was a major success, apart from my sister-in-laws desert that bombed - i am sure she cried herself to sleep, as my turkey was fucking amazing!!!!!

My beach holiday was relaxing. Mother nature was not as kind as she should have been, but we made the most of the days of sunshine we had which we spend on the beach, sunbathing and swimming. I love the ocean. It one of the places that makes me feel safe and at peace. Watching the waves role in, hearing them brake on the shore, feeling the cool mist on my face and the smell of the sea puts my sole to rest.

It funny how you never quite put much thought into what goes on under the water. The last day we spent at the beach I had a little diving accident. I was diving underneath a wave a scraped off the top layer of skin of my noose. I didn't realize this until my husband pointed out to me that it was bleeding. Now I am standing shoulder deep in the sea, where I know there are quite a few sharks not so far off shore, and I I'm bleeding. I kicked into drama queen mode, still trying to keep my composure. In my mind I was bleeding profusely (actually it was less than one drop of blood squeezing it's way through not so baldy damaged skin). All the National Geographic shark attack programs plays through my head and the only thing I can remember is - sharks can smell a drop of blood from miles away!

I need to get out of here!!!!

I spot at least five people in close proximity and calculate my chances of getting out of the water alive at 80%, as they are all fatter than me and I am convinced a shark would go for a victim with more meat. Not trying to look as if i am freaking out I gracefully try and swim towards shore. I use the excuse to my husband that I am cold and think it's time to get out. He looks at me (I know he knows my real motive and he can see me trying to conceal my panic) but the gentle sole he is he agrees and we make it safely to sore all limbs in tact.


New years eve we decide to go to the only gay club in the town we are spending our holiday. Going to a dodgy gay club beats sitting in an apartment listening to fireworks and hearing other people get drunk and having good, don't you think?

We arrive at the club and I swear it's no bigger than our apartment at home. All the people look weird! For a few hours we weren't even sure it was a gay club. We had a few drinks and settled into this queer setup and I figured things out - all these people were bisexual (or at least that's their cover story). The biggest queens were there with their "girlfriends" who in a few years will become their fag hags and the butch guys were on the prowl for "straight girls". What a load of bullshit! Most of the butch guys there will end up being nelly bottoms eventually! The whole night my husband and I were the only gay people there who ever made any physical contact with each other. It felt like Mormon bazaar.

As we left there at 4am in the morning I had a strange sense of sadness for all the regular patrons of that dreadful establishment as I asked my myself the question "How the hell does any gay person ever get laid in a place like that?"

Having survived xmas and new years eve, I look towards 2009 with a cautious optimism. If have made it this far in 31 years and I sure as hell can make it through 2009. There will be highs and there will be lows, and I am sure to share it with all who read this blog.



Till next time.