Mantis and Moon: a love story like no other

South Africa, a rainbow nation they call us, a place full of vibrant diversity that we are proud to embrace and be a part of.

"Until 1994, the country was known for apartheid – white-minority rule. South Africa's remarkable ability to put centuries of racial hatred behind it in favour of reconciliation was widely considered a social miracle, inspiring similar peace efforts in Northern Ireland, Rwanda and elsewhere."

When I decided to settle in South Africa for a few years, I made a promise to myself that I would explore every hidden gem, and all of her corners that burst with treasure. Places so easily passed by if your eyes have not been cleansed and renewed. Places that majority of South Africans never venture to with the curiosity of a child and the appreciation of a foreigner. It is so sad to see how so many people have lost this great appreciation and admiration of this gorgeous rainbow nation, because it is so colorful in many different ways.

I don’t see a country stricken with poverty and unemployment, I don’t see a country burdened by a racial history and an uncertain future, no, I see a country rich and glowing with experiences and adventure, with culture and art. I see people so beautiful and wholesome, so filled with innocence that is mistaken for ignorance. I see opportunity, and growth and a unity so magical, I am proud to be a part of it.

Rachel, who is one of my favorite travel buddies, decided it was time for yet another open road journey to one of our favorite destinations, the South Coast.  We had both been feeling so drained by the conformists and people around us, that we needed a re-charge if you will. We longed for a dose of new energies that can come from adventure and appreciation alone. To go somewhere with no expectations from the place or from us, to just revel in the beauty of something natural without having to be anything but a presence in the scenery. So we chose Mantis and Moon backpackers.

From the moment we arrived to the moment we left, we felt at peace. A place hidden in an ordinary street, built inside an oasis of beautiful trees. Tree houses, so unique and built with such individuality and love, we could not have chosen a better place to let go of all of life’s burdens and regain new stamina for the months ahead.

We were met by friendly and unpretentious people from all walks of life. Feeling immediately at home, we began getting to know the staff, each with different characters and from different parts of the world, it was a breath of fresh air from the usual smog we find ourselves wrapped in daily. It was as if I could see each of their beautiful souls shining all around them, no social expectations and no judgmental stares. This place was a secret that we are so fortunate to have stumbled upon.

We took a sunset tour with a local named Ryan, who from all angles grabbed my attention in a heartbeat. A local, with so much passion for the place he was from, and so much knowledge about the surrounding areas and the people in it. He restored so much of my faith in South Africans, as I am openly sad to admit, I did not have much prior to meeting him. Of course I am talking generally (and oh how me of all people despises such a word) but he was the exception, the exception that re-ignited my hope from a small flame into a dancing colorful bonfire. He took us to a local village, that many would not go to without a guide, for obvious reasons of it being someone else’s land, and trespassing is trespassing no matter which culture you come from, and two, because of the negative stigma that surrounds such wonderful places. With a backpack of refreshments, and my camera in hand, I found myself the perfect spot with the most breath-taking view, I could not have conjured something like this up without a good bottle of tequila and maybe some special green tea, it was magnificent. I sat there, absorbed in the present moment, with no thoughts of the next day or the day before, just there, totally one hundred percent present in everything the moment had to offer, I was blessed beyond any words description, to be able to see the view I saw that evening. Surrounded by local village children who were so fascinated by the texture of my hair, and the abilities of capturing a moment on a camera, I could not have chosen a better way to end my day.

I wish I could tell those children, no camera can capture a moment that is felt and experienced in the present by your heart. No camera will ever express an image that is not only seen with the eyes but absorbed in the mind and soul. In fact nothing will ever be able to be appreciated if you are not there yourself, present, in that one single moment, that goes by in minutes but if properly absorbed seems a lifetime.

Mantis and Moon has something very special to offer any traveler, it offers purity, it offers untainted rawness of life, and is best felt if you go there yourself, because no photo, no story and no description will do that oasis of soul food the right amount justice. Owned by two very wonderful people, and run by a diversity of people who will ensure you are not left unchanged. If you are already like Rachel and myself, and have found your essence, this is a place to go and regroup, rejuvenate yourself and regain all your positive energy needed to continue on in your walk of life.

South Africa, a love story of sadness and hope, a country that may seem burnt and baron but if you never take the time to look a little closer, but rather rushing off to find new lands, you will never notice the new fresh green buds popping up all around you, all you have to do is look a little closer. Mantis and Moon can help you see it if you are unable to see it for yourself, but don’t worry, after a few wholesome experiences, not even a trip to the shop for some groceries will be same.

Are Hippos really that sweet?

WANDERLUST, is there a cure?

Have you ever woken up and said to yourself “There has to be more to life than this, I am sure I am missing out”.

Sometimes my stories make sense, and the content has a planned introduction, body and conclusion. Then some days, like today, it’s just a collection of thoughts and feelings jumbled into some form of order.

I have had this blog conversation with myself over twenty times in the last few weeks, and I thought if I don’t write it down and get it out of my mind, I may just drive myself crazy.

They don’t call it the travel bug for nothing. It isn’t some cute nickname they came up with over a pint of beer. It has meaning, and over the course of my life and its different stages or attempts at staying in one place, I have grown to wish they could come up with the anti-biotic to cure it.

As I sit out here, in the beautiful African Bush, listening to the birds and watching the sunset, I try to cure myself of this “bug”. In between swatting flies, and writing these sentences down in my journal, I look up and try to absorb all the wonderful elements around me, enough to fill this space inside my chest that burns with desire to continue exploring the world. I truly think I am sitting in the middle of the most gorgeously sense tickling place on earth, watching the jackal and elephants continue about their daily business and I curse this bug for making me feel like this is not enough.

It has been almost two years since I came back to Africa, and in those two years I have moved twice. This is pretty good going for me, who seems to usually relapse with the travel bug every three months. This time I am fighting the biggest internal battle of whether I can cure this on my own by challenging my spirit with the logic and reasoning of my head or if I am going to just give in, once again to the ludicrous nature of my wandering spirit. Although, since I do love it here so much enough to try and find a reason to saturate my desires to be free and travel, as well as remain, I have been forced to do some extensive research on how to continue travelling and backpacking without giving up all I love out here in Africa. Besides I also have two dogs, and I could never leave them behind. (but I was desperate enough to consider taking them with me, and if you are in that same situation maybe you will find this helpful http://www.nomadicmatt.com/travel-blogs/how-to-travel-with-pets/ )

For anyone else who is battling to balance a new life of settling and filling that empty hole of desire to travel, I have found a few things that may help you get by. During my desperate search for an answer, or help on the way forward, I came across a website: http://www.helpx.net/

I began really thinking, can I have both? Can I have a home, and a city I call my rest stop before my next adventure, and can I make this permanent? I believe with websites like this, I can. There is a chance to go away for three months and live and work in all these different countries for free accommodation and food. Most of them have programs, like the one I have signed up for in India, where you start your morning at 4am and do meditation and yoga, then you work for four hours picking flowers and threading them, or picking fruit and then you have your afternoon off to explore the local community. You are expected to live and comply with the host family’s rules, and personally being that I enjoy getting to know the people, culture and food the best, I could not think of a better way to backpack.

To saturate my desires, I have also started a real live Pinterest board, where I can physically pin up the things that make me happy, that fill my heart with all the things I love. It mostly is just random words, or pictures, but I felt by physically putting them up, I have set myself a goal, and am no longer saddened by the thought of not being able to travel, but excited by the prospect of setting the date, of working towards the goal. I spend an hour a day researching where, how, why. I have not limited myself and decided if it is a year of pure backpacking I need, then that is what I will work for. The next trip will be Cambodia, Thailand and Malaysia, and I will be going together with my husband, as he has expressed a desire to travel too, and has not had much of a chance. Then my solo trip to India for my 30^th is just around the corner, and I have a lot of mental preparation to do for that, as I have signed up to work in a temple and live with the family who runs it.

I am starting to realize that when I have this incurable urge to pack up whatever I can fit into my old faithful suitcase and go explore, I can do it mentally first, and instead of hopping on the next plane with no plan, I can give myself a few moments to reflect on what I want to gain, and what part of me I want to grow, or mature through the next trip. For now, it is to learn how to find a balance, and by no means should it be difficult, as I do not work the typical 9-5 job in an office (which by the way would kill my soul in less than a week). After I have learnt to find a healthy balance that doesn’t involve returning to my previous nomadic lifestyle 100%, I would like to be able to learn how to call one place home. A place where I feel a genuine attachment too, because after so many years of having no attachment to anything materialistic and no hold on to anything gathered, it has become too easy to pack up and head off to new horizons.

For now I will enjoy the lions vocalizing at night, and the ever changing dynamics of African Bush life. We are headed to Bali in November, and traded in the hotel option for a place in the Ubudu Forest, and in between we will continue to explore South Africa. In the meantime we are doing thorough research on the year backpacking through Asia, as well as establishing where we want to “settle”, and I put it in inverted commas because to be honest, I don’t think I can ever truly settle, it will be a matter of time again until I need new scenery.

Feel free to write to me, and tell me about your experiences you have had while travelling, and maybe a bit of insight on how you have managed to transition from traveller life to settler life, or if you have not managed at all and are still at it. Then again maybe, you are just like me and are trying to find the perfect balance.

The Bush Bubble

I have been exposed via social media, to the reality of  life in the cities of South Africa, and have found myself going to bed with a head full of negativity. Reality or not, I prefer not to indulge in the news, and take the ostrich stance on it all, by burying my head in the bush bubble.

While most of you that read my blog, and follow my stories, are constantly faced with day to day happenings, as well as the pressure of regular city life, I am daily awoken by the sounds of a hippo, a hyena or a lion. I do feel that by sharing my stories and my inner thoughts or perceptions, I may in some way be making a small difference to the world. Whether it is by bringing a smile to someone’s face with one of my light hearted reads, or by educating people on the beauty that not only Africa has to offer, but South Africa, I am certain that even the tiniest bit of a difference is better than no difference at all.

So with all the recent negative light being shed on our beautiful country, I feel it is time to share some colorful positive light in there too.

Just a few days ago, I was graced with the presence of a family made up of a wife from Sweden, a husband from England and a daughter, who’s heart, I am certain was once in Africa in a previous lifetime. This young girl who tended to veer away from strangers and stick to herself, was in a world of her own, and this world was filled with African animals and so much knowledge about them gained in factual books. She had spent months reading all about our landscape and its creatures prior to arriving, because this is what inspired her the most. The sparkle in her eyes when she chatted to the ranger about the different species, and facts surrounding them, was something magical to see. In a world full of negativity and pain, this was definitely an absolute delight for me to witness.

Each drive with this family was filled with laughter, jokes and animated commentary of the animals we saw. At one point Helena (The Swedish wife) and myself were watching this spotted eagle owl sitting in the middle of the road, his expression was one that made us giggle. (If owls even have an expression).  His face was all scrunched up like an angry English police officer, and the fact that he was in the middle of the road only created a perfect scene for a few animated comments. With my best British accent I started off with a “AH Good evenin’ folks, and what would you be doin’ drivin’ around at this time of the night’?” to which Helena followed cue with a “I’m gonna hafta check that you haven’t been drinking or nuthin” at this point, the angry faced owl turned away from us and I just could not help myself “Ey Jerry, what ya think? These folk been drinkin tonight?” as he turned to face us again, the angry look on his face seemed much more severe and I had to continue with what we had started. “Ey, are you mockin’ me, d’ya think this is funny”. Well that was it,the whole car was in stitches. Even though I cannot recall the exact detail of the entire made-up play write, the memory of laughing so hard that my stomach hurt, will never leave my mind.

These are the moments I refer to as my Bush Bubble, the place I bury myself in when it all gets too much. I either go on a game drive, or write a story about one of those pure and usually funny moments, or i just sit and remember them with a few solo giggles. Sometimes i wish i could look at the world with the eyes of that little girl, and see what she sees. The innocence and purity as well as the untainted bush bubble she lives in must be something spectacular, although with a little reminding, i am able to enjoy just a glimpse of it, and i am almost always sure to write it down.

Sitting here now, watching the much needed rain drip down my window, I smile to myself remembering that it doesn’t matter where you come from or who you are, a connection is made none the less. We are people, and culture, birthplace or color do not separate us or create barriers. We create those barriers, society creates those barriers, and the news only fuels it. I will never forget that family, nor the joyous time I had with the three of them. I had only known them for three days, and I will probably never get to see them again, but I made a friendship with a woman who I had only known for a few minutes, and the friendship will either dwindle or I will have the opportunity to connect via social media. Regardless, the memories have already been created and the moments were so valuable, and I am so grateful to have had them. Two different women from totally different places were able to create a friendship in just under five minutes. It was Africa that brought us together and brought out the best in us, it was Africa that opened our eyes to the beauty in others by showing us the beauty in her. Africa certainly is the mother of us all, and whether you are a visitor or born here, we are all children of the land. Ubuntu – We are one! Stop Xenophobia!

Dutch on your doorstep

Melkstal

Hidden in the gems of Tulbach I found myself amidst the essence of tranquillity created by not only the breathtaking surrounding mountains that the melkstal was nestled in, but also by the hospitality poured out from the heart by both Frank and Adele who  are the owners of Melkstal.

Tulbach came to be In 1699, when Governor Willem van der Stel visited the valley at the foot of the Winterhoek mountains, and named it "Land van Waveren" in honour of the Waveren, a prominent Amsterdam family to whom his mother was related. At that stage the area was part of the district of Stellenbosch, but on 11 July 1804 it was proclaimed a separate district with its drostdy at Tulbagh.

Almost immediately Willem van der Stel began to allocate loan farms to landless Dutch families and by the mid-1700 the area had become a prosperous farming district more commonly known as Roodezand. In 1743 the Roodezand Dutch Reformed congregation was established, and its church was completed in 1749. The village which inevitably grew up about the church was formally established in 1795, and was named in honour of Ryk Tulbagh, former Governor of the Cape, 1751-71. Lichtenstein visited Tulbagh, which he still called Roodezand, in November 1803, and was much impressed by its inhabitants who: "... owing to their frequent intercourse with Cape Town, have more civilization than the distant colonists, are more active and industrious, and more attentive to their own interests. There is more taste about their houses, more luxury at their tables, the wives and daughters are better clothed, and they make some pretensions, not wholly without reason, to polish and education ..." In 1817 the Rhenish Missionary Society established a station near the village. The 1865 census indicated that Tulbagh had a population of 542. In 1875 this number had risen marginally to 548, and in 1891 it was 659. By 1904 it stood at 796.

In July 1822 the village of Tulbagh was all but destroyed in a storm. As a result the seat of its drostdy was transferred to Worcester and its district was renamed accordingly. On 9 March 1848 Tulbagh was proclaimed a separate division, and in May 1889 the greater part of its eastern lands was given over to the new division of Ceres. The economy of the region was based primarily upon the production of grain and wine, although the income of many farmers was also supplemented by the manufacture of farm wagons and carts. This is what I know to be the start of this quaint and heavily Dutch influenced little town.

After a lovely lunch I was fortunate to steal a few hours of Franks time where I became enticed with the history of the melkstal as well as a few delicious extra tidbits on how he and Adele met and came to fall In love. Frank explained that he had just visited Tulbach briefly and he needed no more than that moment to know that this was where he wanted to be.

From the local grapevine he discovered that a deal had gone what we would refer to as a little pear shaped, on a place down the road, and I guess he was just at the right place at the right time, because the owner was willing to sell it to Frank. Disgruntled by the first deal, Frank was given only a short amount of time to transfer the funds for the melkstal and guarantee his permanent residence in the little town that stole his heart.

As all stories with a happy ending, Frank DID seal the deal,and him and Adele moved in to begin their next chapter together. Being that the melkstal was originally a milkshed on a beautiful piece of land, the natural thought would be to purchase a few cows, and indulge in the beauty of farm life.

Adele had explained to me upon my arrival, that they used to live in their caravan on the concrete slab they built just in front of the milkshed,which has now become the patio where you can sit and unwind while enjoying the natural sounds, that tickle your ears and numb the stresses of day to day life. After selling their cows Adele and Frank turned the milkshed into a gorgeous self catering guest house.

Now of course I have left out a few minor details about the process of transformation, but the one significant part of the transformation was that they also built themselves a house on the land,a few meters in front of the milkshed.

My first day I spent my afternoon fishing in their dam, where i managed to catch not a badly sized carp. Of course I released it, and did a little victory dance, but when I looked around the dam and the surroundings all my senses were drawn to the magnificent scenery and I forgot all about my victorious catch for just a moment.

That moment felt like a lifetime,I did a full three sixty on the spot and just absorbed all the beauty that enveloped me. Time stood still, and for just a minute I felt completely peaceful. All my senses were heightened, and it's as if in that very moment even the hairs on my body were trying to absorb all that mother nature had to offer.

I could have been part of an oil painting on a wall, still, quiet and frozen in the picturesque landscape of mountains, lightly dusted with sunsets golden rays. In the very next second I was pulled back to reality by the sound of a fish jumping in the dam and decided I would continue the competition of trying to catch the most fish for the afternoon.

I consider myself lucky to have been connected to nature long enough to remember every detail, as well as short enough to still appreciate it. The best part of these short weekends away to the magical places South Africa has to offer, is realising I really don't need to go far in order to feel like I am experiencing something new. There are so many places rich in beauty and culture right on my doorstep.

Leopards with a gold lining

“Morning is wonderful. Its only drawback is that it comes at such an inconvenient time of day.” 
― Glen Cook

This was my first and initial thought when my alarm rudely entered my dreams, and reminded me that I had chosen to wake up at this ungodly hour, so that I could spend my sunrise sitting in an open top land cruiser with three spotted companions.

I quickly decided that I would much rather switch that “calming springtime” alarm tone off, and return to comfort behind my eyelids and under my marshmallow duvet. Then as I began to nod off to sleep again, I started to wonder what on earth I was doing being such an old sack of potatoes and sprung out of bed as if someone had just told me that Channing Tatum was outside my door with a bouquet of roses!

Running around with my hair sticking out in every direction, I did my utter best to multi task, in the hope that I would be ready a lot quicker if I attempted doing everything all at once. One shoe on, the memory card for my camera in my left hand and my hairbrush in the other, I realized I would have to calm down to a mild excited panic, and try to complete one task at a time if I ever wanted to spend my sunrise with Thandi and her two cubs.

If it weren't for having to put in my contact lenses (which I still have not mastered) I would have been ready in about four minutes. After about the fifth attempt, I managed to get both contacts to finally stick to my eyeballs. Although by the very uncomfortable feeling in my left eye, I was sure I had inserted it inside out.

It didn’t matter; I was finally on my way to meet these little cubs for the first time! As we drove through the reserve, the cold chill seeping into every opening I had, and the breeze completely drying out my contact lenses. I smiled in absolute content, while tears ran down my cheeks trying to compensate for the wind that was slowly evaporating any moisture I had left in my burning eyes.

As we got closer to the spot where we had last seen Thandi the day before, I could not help but remember that it was in fact a Monday morning, and most people would be starting their day sitting in traffic, on their way to a job that more than likely entails an office.  

Oh how I would much rather start my week like this, with the breeze in my face, the odd insect colliding with my forehead, and the smell of the freshly killed impala ram that Thandi had courageously brought down the evening before.

As we looked up to try and find our companion, I felt the cool air start to lift as the sun decided it was time to make an appearance. We initially could not see Thandi as she blends in so well with her surroundings. Suddenly out of nowhere, as if she “popped” magically into the scene, we saw her!

Lying lazily over a thick branch with all four legs hanging down, eyes still closed, I felt my heart skip with happiness. Yes, I had spotted her, and felt very proud for doing so, considering I was still wiping my misty eyes clear.

We watched in anticipation, as she lay there. I got my camera all set up and ready for that perfect head turn; yawn or stretch, and then we waited, and waited and waited. Nope, Thandi was having none of it and refused to pose for us, in fact, she even turned her head so that we could not even see her face.

Out of boredom, I eventually started playing with camera settings to see which setting would work best with the lighting. Then as the sun started to rise, so did Thandi.

The golden light coated her face and everything around her, and as I began to lose myself in Thandi and her golden aura, I heard a sound. My hearing has always been very acute and I am often able to sense and hear a presence around me before I see it with my own eyes.

Just as I started speculations about a hyena coming in to steal Thandi’s breakfast, a little fluffy face popped into view and stared at me through the green thicket, with the grayest eyes I have ever seen. Thandi watched from above, and after gathering that there was no danger, she lazily put her head back down.

The bushes that had a pair of eyes staring back at me, was now rustling and moving in the morning light, as not one, but two leopard cubs played amongst its leaves.

Yes Thandi is a mother, an extremely dedicated one at that. The night before we had watched her drag that impala ram right beneath the tree she now lay stretched out in. The problem was, the ram was way too big for Thandi to drag up the tree, and if there was ever a moment I would have labeled her as an over achiever, this would have been it. 

Being a single mother in the bush as a predator is not an easy task. Keeping her cubs safe is an ongoing task and something that requires her to have her wits about her almost 24 hours a day. Besides for the hunting and the life lessons, Thandi also has to watch for other predators like Lions, Hyena and Jackal. It is a harsh world out there in the bush, and no day is ever a promised certainty. The struggles are never ending and survival of the fittest is an extremely raw and real way of life out here.

Although right now, in this moment, time stands still, and Thandi is at ease. The cubs are allowed to stalk, pounce, play and live as any young ones should. Free and at ease without a worry in the world, I share this moment with them and watch as golden morning light paints a picture of perfection. It was the golden hour in every sense of the word, visibly and symbolically. This was a moment that you forgot about the harsh realities and the cruelty of nature, of humans, of life. This was a moment to freeze, a moment I absorbed with all five senses as I watched on while one of the cubs climbed the tree and nuzzled his mother. This was the moment I woke up early to be a part of, but had no idea how powerful it would be. Everything around me shone with gold light and time really slowed down, the entire scene was blanketed in innocence and peace and tranquility.

Thandi eventually broke the dreamlike trance. By being the mother that she is, and sensing that it was time to get back to reality, she stood up ever so gracefully and stretched out her long legs while her spotted coat shone in the open patches under the trees canopy. She then made her way down the tree and began her instinctive duties of trying to lighten the weight of the impala so that it could be dragged into safety away from other scavengers.

Her cubs looked on curiously and even attempted to help her, but found the task to tedious and continued to pounce circles around her while she remained focused on saving their meal.

The golden light began to fade and the entire bush lightened up as the sun started rapidly rising above us. Golden hour was over and soon guests would be heading off for their morning drives, and the bush would hum with activity and life. I knew that our shared moment had come to an end, and daily duty would call, but I knew that it was a moment that would be burnt into my memory for the rest of my life.

So as I bid Thandi and her cub’s farewell, and said a quick prayer to keep them safe, I smiled in silence as I reflected on a life lesson and a gift given to me from a magical place. My core and soul had been somewhat changed and enlightened by the experience I had just had. I will be forever humbled and grateful to Thandi for allowing us to share the only truly peaceful moment in her day, and for letting me witness the two beautiful lives she brought into the world. I wish upon her the strength it takes to continue protecting them with everything she has, and hope to share the same moment with them in the future when they become adults and continue her legacy.

A sunset, a hippo, a mosquito, a G&T and....ACTION

As I lay back and relax while the sun goes down, I can’t help but notice how my environment out here in the bush with all its sound and array of colours puts my mind at ease.

With skies that threaten to open up and saturate our dry lands with hope, and patches of new green shoots that invite plenty of activity near our watering hole, I breathe and feel my fingers write with enthusiasm and flow, and my heart starts to beat at a comfortable pace.  The bush and all her elements act as my muse, the words dance out my mind into my fingers.

Ahhhh, what peace, what content and utter balance, what a perfect way to end a straining day, oh yes, I am in an equilibrium of feelings.

And then… “GWAG GWAG GWAG” Harry, our resident hippo has decided that he no longer likes me sitting on the sand bank, and like a two year old brat, he throws his giant head from side to side while vocalizing his disgust at my presence near his watering hole. 

I try to whip out my phone to document his drama queen antics, and just as a spiteful child would do, he does a complete 180 and pretends he is as mature as any overgrown hippo would be.

Not only does he pretend to be the accommodating companion, but he exaggerates the biggest yawn possible just to make sure I am aware that he will not cooperate on any level. Oh Harry, I know you too well by now.

At first I am annoyed at his childish attempt to share, or rather his lack of effort made at all, and then I ease up. Harry was here first, this is his watering hole, and as much as I love to share it with him, I know he hates sharing it with me.

So I put down my phone and watch his tantrum take place all over again, and I begin to relax and really appreciate my giant companion for all that he is and all the joy he brings me in one day.

What first hit my ears, and destroyed my silence like an unwelcome off key marching band, became quit soothing and therapeutic.

It’s like giving a child a tambourine in one hand and a shaker in the other, at first the lack of rhythm or melody is annoying, but then you look at the child and realize that you really appreciate everything they do. I don’t have children but I can only imagine it to be the same. No I have Harry, and many other bush companions in which I share my home with.

I know them all, and have given them each a name. Every one of them has characteristics I adore, and a story behind their sparkly eyes.

There is only one thing I cannot appreciate about living out here in the bush. Those blood sucking terrorists, that sound like mini gyro copters when they are anywhere near my personal space. If you have ever lived in Africa, then you are fully aware of their proper name, the Mosquito.

Oh how I LOATHE these annoying little monsters and their determination to make me miserable and leave me in itchy spots that are sometimes in places too embarrassing to scratch in public areas.

I have unusually sensitive hearing, and when I have any inkling that one of these mini vampires are around, I spring into action and arm myself with the nearest form of ammunition. It may be my pillow, a shoe, a towel or even my phone, it really doesn’t matter the object, as long as it serves my purpose of flattening that unbearable sound!

I have tried everything I can possibly think of. Mosquito nets, that end up tangled around my neck during the night and leave me sweating in a nightmare of being strangled and trapped. I have tried bug sprays that only seem to attract the bastards more while I cough up any form of lung I have left from all the overpowering oils used to deter mosquitos. I try hiding under my blanket at night, until my little gap left open to breathe is invaded by one of the carbon dioxide flying trackers. I even tried wearing as many items of clothing as possible, only to wake up and find I have very itchy fingers covered in little red spots.

You name it, I tried it, until…I discovered a wonderful old potion called Gin and Tonic!

Oh how it has saved me from becoming dangerously annoyed. The something or other in the tonic apparently deters mosquitos from choosing you as there next victim. I never had enough patience to go and research it and see the scientific reasoning behind this suggestion, but the fact that I truly enjoy tonic, splashed with generous amounts of Gin made it all to attractive to try.

So here I sit, with a few mosquito deterring potions healthily swigged back , watching the sun go down while Harry does his best to get rid of me, listening to the sound of a blood sucker approaching my space. And whether Gin and tonic truly works or not, I CAN tell you that after a hearty consumption of the stuff, that little gyro copter sound suddenly adds a calming soprano buzz to Harry and his conglomeration of sounds.

So whether I wake up with itchy spots or not, Gin and Tonic truly helps take the edge off of the experience, and I am relaxed enough to sit back, sip my drink, and watch the show nature has put on for me to enjoy.

I may even invite the little mozzie to join me for the grand finale when the orange curtain of sunset goes down and turns the stage to black.

Thank you to Harry and all his cast for allowing me to witness such a wonderful end to another day in the bush, and of course to G&T, the producer that allowed nature, the director, to fully grab an audience’s attention and close the act with an all-round standing ovation.