It's gonna be a long flight kids!

So far so good on the solo honeymoon.  I spent 24 hours traveling to end up in Johburg for an overnight stay before heading to Victoria Falls later this morning.  I’ve been refraining from telling fellow travelers that I’m on my “honeymoon,” when asked the purpose of my trip. 

Despite the fact that there was a “hot guy convention” at the back of the plane (evidently Colombia Business School has a group trip here…note to self get hooked into Colombia bschool when I get back), I was stuck in the “native section” of the plane, which provided to be interesting entertainment, if not interesting aromatically.   I was immediately intrigued at JFK as I watched all the Africans arrived dressed in suits, dashikis or fun dresses with matching hats (in my head, I called these ladies “fruit ladies” because they looked like ladies who carried fruit on their heads).  We Americans were a pathetic representation of fashion, myself included, in our jeans, shorts, and tees.  Again furthering my point white people are boring and dashikis and fruit lady dresses, like saris, are great for “fat days.”   And P.S. the first time I was in West Africa, I noticed how formally Africans dress, but you can’t pay me to spend 18 hours on a plane in a suit, well maybe if I were flying in first class rather than in the steerage section of the plane.

At this point I have a large Senagalese man spooning me.

In the first 24 hours of my honeymoon I managed to snuggle with two men.  From NY to Dakar I sat next to a Senegalese man who was returning home for the first time in 9 years (imagine not seeing any family member for 9 years).  Anyway, he kept trying to bogart my leg space which is when the inadvertent snuggling happened.  From Dakar to Joburg, I was seated next to a guy from Mauritania who pretty much crept up on me while I slept and practically spooned me.  I can honestly say there’s no other feeling in this world like falling asleep sober and waking up to have a large African stranger sprawled all over you.  It was very awkward extracting myself from that situation.  Why oh why couldn’t I have sat next to “hot safari guy” (a dude I saw in JFK who was decked out in safari gear).

So some initial observations/questions:

1) Why is it I always get stuck next to the annoying American in immigration?  My nerves were already frayed after an 18 hour plane ride, I really didn’t need some fat midwestern woman pushing me in line loudly announcing to her traveling companions that “THEY DRIVE ON THE LEFT SIDE OF THE ROAD.”  Really?  Say it a little louder Linda, I don’t think they heard you in Boise.  Then her husband told others who weren’t sure what to do going through immigrations to “tell the agents you’re here on holiday…that’s what people say here…holiday.”  Embarrassing!  There should be a test you have to pass to get a passport.  If you don’t know how to get through immigration, you shouldn’t be allowed out of the country.

2) Wolrd Wide Wrestling really is world wide-it’s on tv here so happy to report that it’s not just confined to trailer park U.S.A.

3) We really need to get on the metric system program.  I can guestimate the math for kilos and Celsius, but I’m anal and the fact that I don’t know the exact conversion annoys me.

4) On the way to the hotel I saw a restaurant called “Simba” with a giant lion on it.  I laughed.

5) I also passed by a company called Sky Net and tried not to freak out after watching too many Sarah Connor Chronicles shows.

6) Netflix has killed my social life and plane movie watching enjoyment.  Of the 30 or so movies I had to choose from on the plane, I’d seen all but Night of the Museum, Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, The Simpsons movie (couldn’t even finish it-it was so bad), and Lakeview (same).  However, after watching the traveling pants, I now want to move home to my native Greece and wear bedazzled hippie jeans.

Here’s to hoping that there’s no political instability (well any more than usual) when I’m in Zimbabwe riding an elephant tomorrow.  The PM’s wife was killed in a car crash and was watching some of CNN international last night (that is before the channel went out) and it was suggested that it might not have been an accident!  When will I just be happy to travel to places like Paris and call it a day?

A thousand apologies for the lapse in time from my last post.  Sorting out my travel plans to what I’m terming my solo honeymoon has been more difficult than I initially anticipated, not the least of which involved the USPS nearly losing my passport en route to the Zambian embassy in DC and my near homicidal like rage over this (trust me my response wasn’t limited to a simple frustrated Seinfeldian “Newman”).  So, needless to say I was left with little time and inspiration to put pen to paper or in this case fingers to keyboard.  But on this Valentine’s Day, having furthered the cliché of what “white people” like (see http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.com/2008/01/23/19-travelling/ ) I feel inspired.

You may remember that when I last left you, I was in love with “Kenneth,” my sweet talkin South African travel agent based in New York.  I am sad to report that Kenneth is dead to me now.  Word of advice guys, if you say you’re going to call a girl and you have a “special plan” that she’ll “really like” and you never call, you risk banishment, or in this case loss of a great commission. No girl likes to sit by the phone, willing it to ring Kenneth, you cheeky git!  Kenneth lost out on mucho dinero by not calling me back, a fact which became painfully obvious as I signed off on the final total with a different travel agent (who yes I did facebook stalk) before ever stepping foot en Afrique.   However, I am able to justify my expenditure by realizing that while some people choose to have offspring, I travel.  And at the same time South Africa has been my dream destination for my honeymoon.  And not to go too negativo on the fat arrow carrying baby’s holiday, but who knows when that will ever happen, sooooo I’m taking myself on my own honeymoon.  Yes, you heard me!  Hear me now and believe me later, solo honeymoons will become the new black!

I’ll be traveling solo in Zambia, Zimbabwe, and on a safari in Kruger before hanging with a friend in Cape Town.  On my solo honeymoon portion of the trip, I’m hoping I’ll meet my future husband.  See here’s how the scenario plays out in my head, I’ll be enjoying an African sunset and a cocktail at the hotel bar in Joburg as Toto’s Africa song is playing softly in the background and I’ll happen to turn my head and I’ll notice him saunter in.  He’ll, of course, be tan and have that well manicured rugged look going on, the kind that can only be manufactured in that Out of Africa movie kinda way.  He’ll saddle up next to me at the bar and order some manly drink like an 18 year old single malt Scotch neat and strike up a conversation.  We’ll realize that we’re both going on the same safari the next day.  He’ll be in the ballpark of say 34-37, his name will be something like Jackson or Forrester or Vaughn and at some point in his life, like me, he will have been educated in Europe.   He’ll be ex-peace corps a/k/a a trustifarian (I have a theory that only affluent kids can afford to spend two years post-university kicking around third world countries) and after a brief stint in the corporate world he decided to return to doing international development work and has spent the last 10 years saving Gorillas in Uganda (a little Gorillas in the Mist anyone), digging wells in Rwanda (cuz it ain’t the Hotel California, it’s Hotel Rwanda), helping refugees in Darfur (Lost Boys of the Sudan, peut-être, I think my heart just skipped a beat), and teaching people how to cultivate their own maize in the Congo (come on shake your body, baby do that Conga).  He will have managed to do this while not turning into a dirty hippie. And maybe he’ll be a widow whose photojournalist wife died English Patient style while on assignment in Sierra Leone.  The widow thing adds a tragic element to his generally privileged life and shows that he’s not a commitment phobe, thereby preempting the question that my father asks me when I tell him about a guy, which goes something like, “well, if he’s so perfect, why isn’t he married by now?”  That’s Dad’s standard question as he’s uber suspicious of any man over 30 who is still single.  When I point out that I’m still single, he tells me that’s different because I was focused on higher education until I was 27.  Gotta love dad!  To his credit dad’s instincts have been spot on!  Anyway, Peace Corps boy and I will realize that we’re in love as we’re sitting around the boma after a solid day of game drives and we will quite literally drive off into the sunset.  Don’t you just hate me at how perfect my love affair with my future husband is going to be?

And now that I’m planning my solo honeymoon, I think it’s only fair that I register for it a la Carrie Bradshaw, don’t you?  I’m not above doing it, especially at this age!  After all in light of the amount I’ve had to dole out for engagement parties, bridal showers, weddings, and baby showers, I think it’s only right.  Oh, and here’s a news bulletin for those of you single and baby free, there is now something called “push presents,” which a new mother gets just for having the baby.  What kinda scam are you married and parental people running?  By my count that’s three presents for getting married and two for having kids and you’re going to begrudge this charmingly adorable well traveled single lady a gift for her solo honeymoon.  Communists!

So, be on the look out for my registry announcement. It’s coming to a mail box near vous!