Across the sea we go…

I do not really know how to start this post. I usually prefer writing about events as they have happened, or at least on the same day as the events occur. However, as I am sure many of you know, that is often not always possible when travelling.  Right, so I shall start from the beginning, the day we left for our holiday…

What an eventful day it was, Sunday 22nd march 2009. Everything was packed, my mom and myself were ready. We both knew from the start, however, that going abroad this time would be quite different. Why, you ask? Simply because this is the first time that my mom and myself have travelled abroad, for an entire holiday, without my dad. Needless to say, it has been strange to not have my dad around to share the experiences with us.

Upon arriving at the airport, my mom realised that she had forgotten Mireille’s 40th Birthday present in the glove compartment of my car. She then proceeded to rant in the rear of the car, half chewing off my ear in the process. Evidently I was at fault, because I was obviously meant to use my latent psychic abilities to miraculously envision that she had placed the present there. After calming my mom down, my dad agreed to drop us off at departures and then go back home to fetch the present. We were early, for a welcome change, so we were not pressed for time.

After being dropped off, my mom and myself battled our way to the appropriate flight counter, all the while holding close our possessions for fear of being mugged. Seriously one would never think that the world is in a recession with the amount of people which fly abroad. Once reaching the counter for Air Austral, we were incomprehensibly politely informed that our flight had been delayed… by six hours! Thankfully we live less than 10 minutes from the airport. Before I could say anything else my mom, like a ninja in the night, took my mobile phone and dialled my dad – she obviously did not want to wait in the airport anymore than I did. My dad was at the gate of our house by then, but turned around to pick us up. After 10 minutes of further confusion, with the useless airport staff simply ogling at the tourists and offering no intelligible information, it was discovered that passengers had to check in immediately, since the flight would be closed within the hour, and that passengers were required to remain in the airport. I was like “Oh hell no”! I would much rather be raped by a Gorilla then wait in transit when my house is less than 10 kilometres from the airport. Anyway, my mom, once again, called my dad to tell him we needed the present since we were going to remain in the airport. By that time my dad had just entered the airport parking lot. Nevertheless, he paid the unnecessary toll and drove home… again. After several more minutes, the check-in process started. Upon arrival at the counter, I clarified that we did not need to stay at the airport and that we could check-in and go home. I slowly removed the blunt teaspoon from my wrist and dialled my dad, for the umpteenth time. Shame… my dad was at the house, again, but promptly returned to pick us up, without complaint. Kudos to you daddy! While we waited to be picked up, for real this time, my mom and myself watched some idiot’s car get towed. I laughed… a lot. That is what you get for being a moron, parking in a disabled zone and then leaving your car unattended. I was really glad that the Johannesburg Metro were actually doing their job for a change and not just assaulting innocent individuals, which is usually the case.

We all spent the afternoon at home, relaxing before having to go the the airport again.  I was blogging, of course, because you know how I would most likely make love to you all, well not all of you, only the hot ones because I need to keep my virtue, and that is when I wrote: Stroking metal ‘cocks’, sucking ‘marrow’ & hitting the floor with ‘Tequila’ (or The Upper Palatte ingests: Mama Tembo’s Cafe). Later that evening, my mom and myself bid farewell to my dad and made our way through the security checkpoint.

[As I write this, I am being chowed by mosquitoes. Damn… I have counted, and I kid you not, about 12 bites. Argh… I am itching like crazy *swats senselessly at thin air and then runs around the garden muttering like a hobo with half a bottle of whiskey, proceeds to dive in pool, appears to find some relief, then immediately exits pool, squealing like a school girl, upon realising that the specks of ‘dirt’ at the floor of the pool are dead spiders*. They may be dead, but they are spiders none the less and still freak me out. For those who find themselves irresistible to Mosquito’s, like moi, try out these ‘home’ remedies which may be able to cure your newly developed love bites]

As is the stereotypical nature of woman, my mom shopped through the whole of the Duty Free area. Well, until I forcefully removed her from the shops so as not to miss our flight. Upon boarding the aircraft, I was mentally preparing myself for cramped sardine like seating, crying babies and the obligatory deodorant free tree hugger which always, without fail, sits up-aircon from me. However, to our immense shock and surprise, we were placed in business class, row 01 no less. Damn… I knew I should have played the lotto before leaving… ah well. As human nature dictates, we did not report the error and merely accepted our new seats as good fortune, a meant to be scenario. Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, I completely lapped up every moment of business class: the champagne, speciality cheeses, chocolate truffles, three course gourmet meals, free condiment bag, and last, but not least, the hot and very sweat French airhostess whose job it was to make sure I was a pleased passenger… in almost every sense of the word *wink*. C
onsequently the flight flew past, perhaps a little too quickly, and we appeared to arrive at the St. Denis airport in no time.

I cannot believe how quickly time has flown. My mom and myself have been in Reunion for an entire week already. It only feels like we have been here for a few days. So what have we been up to? Truth be told, my mom and myself decided to take it easy and relax this time around. After all, this is not our first time to the island, so there is no real need to visit and participate in all of the usual touristy stuff (we did it all the first time around). Regardless, we have already gone to and explored, again, the towns of St. Denis, St. Giles and St. Eau. I am not sure if that last one exists or not… I may be high on Mosquito venom or something… I’m not sure… Whatever [UPDATE: Yes, it does exist but I think it may be spelt as St. Leu]! My point is that we have not just been lazing around, although that is all I did today *smirks satisfactorily*. Consequently, I have managed to buy some pretty cool stuff like rubber vases, a photographic tree, a ‘red’ limited edition Xbox 360 controller, some trendy French music and a pot of delectable Belgian chocolate shower gel (I just want to lick myself all over when I use the stuff… and no… sadly, it does not taste like chocolate, much to the detriment of my taste buds). Speaking of taste, I have been eating and trying a variety if new dishes and edible items on the island.

My mouth. When I am not blabbing incessantly in broken French, this is where a majority of my new experiences this holiday have taken place. The best part of knowing and staying with family who live in a foreign country, is that they allow you to experience the true culture of the locale being visited. Since I am always open to new palate sensations (a la The Upper Palatte

), Mireille and Didier decided to whip up, among other things, a batch of bread fruit chips and some bread fruit mash. Bread fruit, from what I have gathered, is quite versatile and can be made into a variety of edible concoctions. I have been vehemently assured that this is the fruit that Robinson Crusoe would have survived on. I can believe it too since the mash and the chips were great. I ended up eating most of them, to Mathilde’s dismay. After the bread fruit, we had a chance to try the Pitaya fruit, also known as, because of the fruit’s scale like ruby surface, Dragon Fruit. The fruit is appropriately named because its exterior made me think of Thorn, Murtagh’s dragon, from the description given by Christopher Paolini in Eldest, the second book of the Inheritance Cycle. As it so happens, I am currently in the process of reading the third book in the series, Brisingr. Wow… that was quite a geeky mouthful, was it not?

While we are on the topic of palate sensations, I would like to mention that I can now successfully scratch Stingray off my endless list of dishes/delicacies to try, before I die (I love how that rhymes). When I saw Stingray as an option for a meal at the St. Denis harbour, I could not resist placing my order, I just had to try it. So what was it like? It was absolutely divine! The stingray itself had a strange yet rich texture and would simply, and quite literally, melt in my mouth (as clichéd as this sounds, it is the truth). Of further interest, was how the flesh would just slide off of the cartilage-like-bones which, to me, ended up resembling something of a macabre Japanese fan, or maybe a vagina whispering eye… depending how you look it it?!

In my opinion, the best part of the holiday is that I am able to practice my French. I really do want to be fluent in this language. In my opinion, no other language offers the same level of sensuality, eroticism and romanticism, like the French language does. For instance, you could be calling someone an effing putrid moron who likes to let his/her chocolate starfish snack on dildos, and, without a doubt, the recipient of your ‘tasteful’ message will assume you have given him/her a welcome compliment. Such is the nature of the French language. I love it! My goal is to one day take the French translators exam and become a certified translator. I know that it will take time and a lot of effort but I do believe that, in the end, I will benefit greatly from it.

Until the next time Milieu Pals.

[Just a quick note. before finishing this post, my mom and myself were carted off to Tante Monique’s house in St. Leu. At the moment I am absolutely stuffed. As is customary with our family, my aunt cooked enough ‘crunchy duck’, among other dishes, for an army. After which I was loaded with more French cheese and delectable pastries. Then, before I could say anything else, my aunt brought out these chocolate cup cake things… but man are they good. I managed to eat two… by which time my stomach was already aching from the enormous amount of food that just kept coming my way. They were totally worth it though. Furthermore I have managed to create an ad-hoc connection between my laptop and Bernard’s PC, thus I now have access to the internet… Yay!]

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