One does strange things when on the West Rand. When I woke up on Saturday morning on some couch in Krugersdorp, and ate chocolate cake for breakfast, I made two fairly odd decisions.
Decision 1: To move back into my folks’ house.
I am over the challenge of having to ‘cut the apron strings’ and my priorities have changed from identity and independence to…money. I need it. I’ll be able to save it should rent and food not be swallowing all of it monthly. My parents are beyond thrilled. I was thrilled too when I opened their fridge during my Sunday news-breaking visit and saw so much food and such a variety. (Actually any fridge that holds more than long-life milk and a few apples is attractive to me right now). And anyway, my folks know my lifestyle full well AND even seem to be at peace with it these days. They also have become two of my best friends during my two years of living out of their house but in the same city as them.
I guess you guys will be the first to know should the foolishness of this decision trip itself up.
The money meanwhile is critical to Decision 2.
Decision 2: Travel. To the States next August. My Krugersdorp friend decided she will join me. We’ll start it off in New York at a wedding of a friend of hers and we’ll end it in San Fran at the wedding of a friend of mine. Who knows what we will get up to in between or how we plan on funding the interim, but my friend is gorgeous. I reckon I could get top dollar for her should the need arise. Any of you are welcome to join us, especially if you also have weddings to attend in the good old US of A.
One problem is that she holds an Indian passport and I have an SA passport and by then I will not even have the tie of rent to this country. Two young girls from impoverished American-detesting countries is never good. Convincing them to visa us might prove tricky.
I then got lost somewhere around Roodepoort.
A third decision had been made the night before, as I fell asleep on that couch with a hubbly bubbly pipe in my mouth while trying to find the tastes of apple and cinnamon. All I tasted was smoke.
We are going to open a Tea House somewhere in Jo’burg. They were all the rage in Europe recently. Think Opium Den, without the narcotics and crazy old stoned Chinese men. More like your own teapot of exotic tea, hooka pipes, cushions, crazy arabs and chilled music.
P.S. MRS SAMI RAMA from AFRICAN DEVLOPMENT BANK ( A.D.B ) in OUAGADOUGOU BURKINA-FASO has come across a substantial amount of money (U.S 22.85M DOLLARS) that she would like to share with me. She emailed me completely out of the blue. How sweet and generous of her. Except she is only offering me 30% of this amount. Luckily I am back in the real world and will not be making anymore odd decisions like considering this to be an excellent sponsorship to my American travel. Sorry Mrs Rama. Not this time. Perhaps after my next trip to the Far West.