Posted in Memoir, Travel Writing

On Flying (Frequently)

I’ll start with airports. They’re either a beautiful cacophony of global humanity, or the absolute bane of my existence, depending only on if I’m running late or not. And I’m usually always running late, especially if I’m traveling alone which, these days, I am more than I am not.

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Posted in Memoir, Personal Update

Update Post: ‘Time keeps on slippin’ into the future’

Strangers,
So I’ve been off living my life for a while and there are some exciting shifts and unexpected changes taking place. And I want to tell you about ’em. So here they are, in a numerical list, in no particular order of importance:

1. I’ve just returned to Johannesburg after six weeks back in Ye Olde United States.

That’s why I’ve been so quiet lately. I’ve been doin’ my thing in America since early October, and I used it as an opportunity to unplug. (IE: I didn’t open my laptop once!) This year I spent my longest time away from home to date–9 months. A full gestation period. *throws up hands and shakes head* Needless to say, it was way too long and I’ve learned my lesson–that I need to be home, in America–in Pennsylvania and New York–to recharge my spiritual battery, to seek refuge in the people and places that I call my true home, at least once every six months.

Continue reading “Update Post: ‘Time keeps on slippin’ into the future’”
Posted in Memoir, Strangers, Travel Writing

The Little Boys of Manzini

The oldest one walked up to me. It was the Sunday afternoon of a three day music festival and everyone seemed keen to get outta dodge.

I was making my last trip from the campsite to my rental car. He looked as if he was playing a part he had only ever been told about but never given the script for. I watched him shake off his doubt and walk over to me, chest out and strutting, until he was standing right in front of me.

“Hello Madame,” he declared, “May I have some money? Please.”

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Posted in Feature Writing, Memoir, Travel Writing

Reconciling with the city that never sleeps

Returning to New York City, after living in the third world

Her and I, we didn’t part on the best of terms. I absconded from my role as “struggling millennial writer cum waitress” in the unforgiving ecosystem of the Big Apple because, in the three years that I lived and worked in New York, I found myself calcifying over with cynicism at an alarming rate.

I served far more tables than I published articles and wrote poems, deflected daily catcalls with aplomb, learned to control my panic attacks while stuck on the N train in the tunnel under East River between 59th Street and Queensboro Plaza. But I was weary. I found myself doubting her wonder, her grandeur, her reputation as “the greatest city in the world.” What was wrong with me? Why wasn’t I thriving? Fulfilling my potential? How was spending my early 20’s in NY turning me into such a curmudgeon? Continue reading “Reconciling with the city that never sleeps”

Posted in Feature Writing, Memoir, Travel Writing

Mornings in Chennai

When Anand is excited he speaks very quickly. His English is about 50% to begin with, and when he gets animated, each word leads into the next with an exotic cadence and I can no longer follow. I have to ask him to slow down and repeat himself before I can finally decipher his words, only to then declare them like mini-epiphanies.

“OH! Motorbike! I’m sorry, I thought you were saying ‘modernite!’”

“I don’t know ‘modernite’ .”

“I don’t either!”

And we laugh, because laughter, apart from tears, is one of the only sounds that transcends language. When we laugh together, it doesn’t really matter why. It matters that we are sharing something with one another. Something that we both understand to be positive, to be safe, to be indulged in collectively, like the juice of a coconut from a shady roadside stand on a blazing afternoon. Continue reading “Mornings in Chennai”