I started formal work yesterday for the first time since moving to the Eastern Cape.  One gets very used to working for oneself, but I did know that moving here would certainly mean a change in my work life, little did I realise to what extent.

After battling to even secure an interview with anyone down here, I have finally been given a temporary assignment for five weeks by the most lovely of ladies, and I am so excited, and incredibly grateful, to be gainfully employed again.

The stark reality of the work differences between Grahamstown and Johannesburg hit me like a wet lagoon fish within the first five minutes of "Day 1" yesterday.  I am working in one of the oldest and most lovely buildings in Grahamstown - so old, in fact, the there are two "W.C.'s" - both of which are outside the office building, in a small courtyard.  This for me was initially a reason not to drink a drop of liquid from 10pm the night before and pretend that each working day would be like preparing for major surgery - no liquid consumption would be permissible.  This plan lasted for exactly 11 minutes, after which I decided that the outside lavatory was quaint and lovely and the adjoining courtyard is indeed very charming and reminds me of England.
What did confuse me however, was a distinct smell of fresh-ish French fries, so I took myself down the street to investigate.  Lo and behold, our neighbour is none other than a fish and chip shop - reminding me even more of England, except that in this shop, every single table has on it a 1.5 litre bottle of Fanta Grape, and 2 polystyrene cups layered over the bottle neck!  This is a far cry from the Evian bottles that adorn most restaurants in the major metropolitan culinary hot-spots.

Whilst smiling to myself and deciding to return to my desk and perhaps get on with what it is I was actually supposed to be doing, I was confronted with not one, but three, street vendors selling "new stock" of Coco Chanel, Chanel No. 5, and Estee Lauder's Beautiful.  I asked which truck these items had fallen off, and one of the chaps just said "can't say Lady!"

Day 2 has been less of a shock to the proverbial system, although I was confronted with a "movie moment" when, trying desperately to get an advertisement into the local newspaper in time for the print deadline, I was told their e-mails seemed to be down, so was asked to "just run over" with a flash disk and sort out the problem at the designer's desk.  I honestly thought I was hearing things, but the deadline was looming, and apparently I was in need of a run.  So, black Italian pumps on, flash disk in hand, I decided to take the leap of faith and run to the newspaper office... sadly, I failed to look right in time, and was suddenly facing a donkey cart, with two very unsurprised looking beasts, carrying their owner to who knows where, down the main "High Street" of town!

Toto, I am indeed a long way from home...

P.S. Print deadline, despite collision of the first kind, has been met.

Life in the slow lane...: A windy day on an African farm...

Life in the slow lane...: A windy day on an African farm...: I recently moved from the city of Johannesburg to join my fiancee and love of my life.  Oh, Johannesburg - the financial capital of Southern...

In an endeavour to entrench myself in Eastern Cape life, I have just started a monthly supper club for like minded (potentially nuts?) women - I was part of a superb one in Johannesburg dubbed "Sex and the City", so this one has been called "Sex and the Town".  We met for the first time last evening, and it was a riot.  In Grahamstown restaurant food is better than expected and service is much worse than one would ever believe. 

We all poured our own wine all evening (this, you must understand, is a mammoth task), we had to BEG the waiter to take our food order, and at the end of the evening, when we were just starting to talk about the REALLY interesting stuff, the music was switched off, the "once were white but now off-grey" tablecloths were folded around us and removed, and it was clear there was only one way for us to go - OUT.
So out we went and continued our by now very interesting conversation on the pavement, where the car guard's face was a picture of amazement and complete disbelief.  I am quite sure he has not heard such interesting dialogue for quite a while.

What these evenings do instill in me, however, is a sense of female empathy, that I am very lucky to have found in a relatively short time.  Much like Carrie Bradshaw in Sex and the City, a character I have always hero-worshipped for everything she has - the look, the figure, the writing talent, Mr. Big, the clothes and above all, the shoes (!), there is potential for great soul friendships amongst women - this applies to those who live in a city like New York, which never sleeps, to a town like Grahamstown, which often misses the morning alarm clock completely.

I drove back to the farm incredibly slowly thanks to the ever present kudu population who love that road once the sun sets.  Whilst so doing, I was thinking about how we, as women, have so many similar experiences, challenges, moments of despair, followed by moments of elation, a mutual love of wine, followed by a mild obsession with food, and a bond that needs no words to describe its depth, meaning or prescence.

I so look forward to our next "Town" dinner, almost as much, I would imagine, as the car guard is looking forward to it!

A windy day on an African farm...

I recently moved from the city of Johannesburg to join my fiancee and love of my life.  Oh, Johannesburg - the financial capital of Southern Africa - to a warm and dusty farm in the Eastern Cape.  I gave up my business, I traded in my Chanel pumps for no name brand gum boots; I inherited what they term today "an instant family", and I set myself free from my previous happy existence in order to pursue what I believed would be an even happier one.

Reality struck when I was suddenly without work, without any disposable income and, quite frankly, without a sense of humour and a fast failing central nervous system!  There was nothing funny in this situation.

One day rolled into another; one day of accomplishing nothing led to another one that was just the same.  I sat and moped and felt sorry for myself and missed my old comforts and day dreamed about the novel I will one day complete, and the wealth I will one day find.

Then suddenly one day, I awoke to the most perfect morning.
I looked outside and the few clouds on the horizon were pink, and with that, my heart changed from the pitch black emotion it had become used to, to the pink pulsating feeling that life is what you make of it, and that one's thoughts become one's reality.

I am still "a long way from home", quite literally, and also a long way from creating the life I truly want and fulfilling the dreams I have daily, but I have begun, and that is the most important part.  Each day is a journey, clawing myself back to my previous happiness.  It is up to me now to make my happiness, to love my surroundings, to be positive and work hard, to provide happiness to those I hope to work with in the future - to take those steps...

I am not giving up... on the contrary, I am only just beginning.