Showing posts from December, 2010

Come fly with me

My ticket is booked! Hooray. After all the stolen credit card drama etc, I am finally booked to fly on the 4th of February 2011 at 17:45. All that remains now is to figure out what to pack and say my goodbyes.

Meanwhile, in sunny Ohio. It is not sunny there at all.  Have a look at this spectacle of nature:

This frozen lighthouse is in Cleveland, Ohio,  Lake Erie. It is located a mere 3.5 hours drive from our soon to be home.

May I please state again that my nose gets cold in summer.


Please note that this is not another bitter Saffa writing acid spewing letters from their musty, sunless apartment.

And so the story goes: you can't expect smooth sailing all the way to America. I was working on my fitness at the gym last night, while another gym member was working her way through my padlocked locker. I arrived back at it all sweaty and ready to go home only to discover my handbag in another locker, minus my awesome pink Pantone wallet and my cellphone. Long story short, I was left with loads of inconvenience and the stupid thief with R50, because all my possessions were stopped/blocked/blacklisted before she could say Thieving Fat Bitch.
Petty crime is boring. Lets rather talk about the good South African people who made things much better for my silly self.

Liezel and the Virgin Active Old Eds staff
These kind folk ushered me into an office, ready with all the numbers required for the (un)necessary admin. She even remembered my ID number when I couldn't. Myse…

Michelin man

It is currently -7 degrees in Dayton, Ohio. I have never experienced more than -1. I have also been known to wear cardigans in summer. Problem.

So my best friend Gracé, who is currently in Helsinki, Finland, has kindly supplied me with a list of items I will need to wear to brave the cold:

2 x pairs of tights
1 x jean
1 x pair of wool socks
1 x pair of boots
1 x vest
1 x short sleeve top
1 x thin wool jersey
1 x think wool jersey
1 x puffer jacket
1 x thick scarf
1 x pair of wool gloves

I am hoping it will look like this:
But I will probably look more like this:

A visa in hand is better than two in the bush

Nothing like the smell of fresh passport. There is something about holding it in your hands, and looking at the revolting visa picture. Yes, they (the bureaucrats) have decided that, regardless of your hairstyle, whether it is slick-GHD-face-framing or short-feathers-around-the-face,  the only hairstyle allowed is behind-the-ears. So I ended up looking like mullet girl from the deep south.

I wondered about guys with beards, or Movembers. What if they shave? No one will know who they are. So much of confusion.


The next step of the great trek is to find out where you will be lying the welcome mat. Thanks to google maps street view this has become quite easy. Apparently google also supplies maps for seemingly Sherkian towns. Centerville? Shady Water Lane? Is the Muffin Man going to be neighbor? More likely to be the Muffin Top Lady, but oh well.

It was also a great relieve to find out the apartment complex sports a fitness center and pool. These will all come in very handy considering Wendy's, Burger King, Starbucks and Taco Bell are all within a 1 mile (1.6 km) radius from home. I also doubt whether I will ever need to wait for a machine, like I do here at my beloved Virgin Active Old Eds.

Why they call it Centerville is very apparent. We'll be surrounded by shopping centers. Dayton Mall, Mad River shopping center, Mall Woods shopping center, South Towne, to name but few. Centurion residents would be so jealous. I  further could not help notice the convenient location of the Barnes &…

No stress like visa stress

Before you pack your bags, buy the ticket, have the farewell party, you need The Visa. Getting the American Visa feels like doing your matric exams over again, without studying.

Here's the game: convince the visa people that you really need/want to visit the land of the free, but really need/want to come back to South Africa again. So you take every piece of paper you can find to convince them: Lease agreement, invitation letters, love letters, bank statements, emails, marriage certificates, urine samples. Then you make your way to the USA Consulate, corner Sandton drive and Rivonia road. You can't park there, so you risk your life running across Sandton Drive in peak traffic, with reams of paper, high heels and take away coffee.

Once there you get harassed by puffed up security, searched endlessly by more security, ushered into queues, stamped and asked to take a ticket. And then you wait. You anxiously listen to electronic American voices calling out numbers at random. &quo…