Chuck Norris has a brother. And I think I’ve met him.

I was sitting in a pub in Dubai, minding my own business, reading my Twitter feed where people are still saying Hello to Adele and Donald Trump is still acting like a lunatic. Or is he?

Then he plunked himself in the open seat next to me, making a very loud, but painful noise. Like he was having a contraction or worse.

“I’ve broken three ribs,” he declares to anyone or no-one. My parents told me never to talk to strangers, so I ignored the man.

“I was released from hospital today.”

It dawned on me that he was actually trying to talk to me. Continue reading

In the land of sand

The land of sand is much less romantic than it sounds.

It’s a land where a custom official might actually smile and give you a hearty welcome as you pass through.  It’s a land where most of the scattered buildings are painted in different shades of beige.  In the land of sand you will certainly die without a working air conditioner.  It’s a place where the citizens converse in a language that basically sounds like they’re having some kind of phlegm attack.

It’s the type of place where the captain, before landing the plane, warn all passengers that it is illegal to carry alcohol on your person. Never mind drinking it. Continue reading

There is a little Street in New Orleans called Bourbon

I think I have actually stumbled upon the unofficial main street of a secret beer drinking society. The Octoberfest got nothing! Some people consider South Africans or the Irish to be the biggest beer drinking nations of the world. They would be wrong. The consumption of alcoholic beverages in the French Quarter is phenomenal. It redefines the concept of ‘a shitload of beer’.

If you want to see idiot frat boys getting drunk and then try to impress woman, failing miserably, go there. If you want to see a geriatric white male trying to rule the dancefloor and failing miserably, go there. If you want to see homeless people engage in some sort of praying- mantis-courting-ritual-fist-fight-thingy and failing miserably, go there. Continue reading

It was kind of depressing and then we WON!

Sitting in my hotel in Phoenix, Arizona I’m a little depressed and highly annoyed. Not because I’m alone. Not because I’m away from my family.  Not because I didn’t pack any shorts for my trip to the desert. No. The reason why I feel like crying is that not one channel in a range of eighty is showing the much anticipated quarter final of the Rugby World Cup 2015, where South Africa is trying to beat Wales for a place in the semi-final.  Yes, my dear friends. NOT FRIGGING ONE! What’s up with that?

It is because we annihilated the US team with 64-0 in the play-offs? Continue reading

How I failed the eighth task of Asterix

(Yes, I had to check the spelling of eighth…)

If only I had me some magic potion brewed by Getafix...

If only I had me some magic potion brewed by Getafix…

Did you know?  The only animated Asterix movie to ever have an original screenplay was called The Twelve tasks of Asterix.  You should feel better about yourself for knowing this.  Simply because Asterix is awesome.  And the fact that I love Asterix should come as no surprise as I love comic books and Obelix was the first superhero to inhabit earth. Chronologically speaking off course.

I wanted to give a short version of the plot of the film, instead I decided on a short-short version. I wouldn’t want to spoil the ending for anyone.

Roman legionaries gets beaten up. Claim the Gauls are gods. Julius Caeser assigns twelve tasks ala Hercules, assuming he will put the rumor to bed. Unfortunately for Caeser, Vitalstatistix assigns Asterix and Obelix to finish the task(s) at hand.

The eight task on the list of twelve would be to find Permit A38 in “The Place That Sends You Mad”.

And I’ve been there. Continue reading

The difference between the bucket list of Kingsley Holgate and mine is that mine won’t kill you.

I answer to the name of Moses too.

You can call me Santa if you like.

Kingsley Holgate is an explorer, a real life adventurer.  The original camel man without the boots, sultry looks and two-day stubble.  He is more like a pudgy version, with rosy red cheeks and an impressive, bushy, white beard that makes you think I’ve just described Santa Clause.  Getaway magazine named him the most traveled man in Africa.  Our very own Optimus Prime fighting the good fight against Malaria, a disease that caused the death of another famous explorer, David Livingstone.

This humanitarian is about to get back in his Landrover and embark on a new quest; to find the heart of Africa.  Besides the fact that he obviously hates being at home in Cape Town, I didn’t know our continent had a heart.  I know we have soul, open spaces, corrupted leaders, poverty, blood diamonds, the cradle of mankind, great wine, an Oscar winner, friendly people, amazing animals and a few big cats who is chasing all of the above around the bush, hoping to make a meal of it, but a heart?  Who knew? Continue reading

A tram nearly killed me

Now where was I?  Oh yes bad comedy in Sydney. Seeing how someone dies on stage is never pleasant, even if the sicko made a rape joke. On second thought, he should have been skinned alive.

The rest of my stay in Sydney was pretty uneventful when you consider all the residents stay at home on a Tuesday night.  It is only the lonely travellers strolling the street like a lost zombie, trying to find a decent place to eat.

It is always funny how the hostess of a restaurant looks surprised when I ask for a table for one. Imagine if I asked her for an extra setting and some consideration for my imaginary friend Angelique, the jewish hippo in a leapordskin tutu. Continue reading

Being jet lagged, meeting Meghan Trainor, walking and then not laughing.

Due to the fact that I scored or lost a day travelling to New Zealand my bio-rhytm was a bit off. If a ‘bit off’  implies that I know now what stupid feels like.

Flew to Brisbane in a daze,  and not necessarily a good kind of daze, drove to my customer and was as surprised as the lady on the GPS for getting there in one piece. I reckon the customer regretted me not having a breathilizer test.  I finally finished the meeting with the biggest pupils ever seen on a man, change the voice on the GPS (I didn’t like her condescending tone) then drove to the hotel.

Arrived there mid afternoon and did what any person in my condition would do. Drew the blinds and slept. Woke up looking worse than I did before, took a shower and went for dinner.  Or did I? Continue reading

It’s a lie, there are no hobbits in New Zealand.

Arrived in Auckland at an ungodly hour.  I’m thinking there should be some compensation for travellers who are still trying to get to a hotel after wizards and some teenagers have gone to bed.  Did you know that New Zealand is the southern hemisphere’s version of England?  If only for the rain. And the cold.  And the general miserable weather.  They say the people are nicer here. I say nothing.

Fortunately the Kiwis drive on the correct side of the road, so getting to the hotel wasn’t that much of a problem.  Finding the rental car was.  Who knew it could be so difficult to find parking bay #29?  I looked like a kid on a scavenger hunt running around the rental car bays with suitcase in tow.  Finally got moving, what felt like an hour later. Continue reading