Monday, October 24, 2011

dinner time...

So...8 'o clock rolls in and...dinner time! Some interesting choices on the menu this evening. Woman in front of me (has grey stubble by the way) is digging in to her Sasko loaf and shchiken - all the while making no noticeable effort to NOT make succulent sounds. Must by THAT good.

Massive culture clash and free for all at the Steers as any body shuffled in and threw their money at the lady behind the till. In amongst the hoard was one old lady.."can i order some chips..can I order some chips" - as fate would have it though, she is queueing at the till that is allegedly 'out of order' and must, no doubt, join the 'queue'. Theres zero change so till lady is making customers - if you can call them that - buy extra add ons like slices of cheese and cooldrinks that they dont want so that the amount is rounded up and she can give them notes.

When I returned from this debacle..the bus had moved itself from original spot...adrenalin kicked in at this point..and a dab of the old panic. Luckily I found it 50 metres around the corner...engine running and hazards flashing. Whew! Upon my excited return I notice we have new arrivals. 2 mamma's with 2 babies. Where do they choose to me. Joy. This assures close range and therefore a good chance of odours that are bound to emanate from said babies' bottoms sometime in the next 10 hours, as well as within spitting distance for when he or they blow their cheeks. Maybe the reason babies cry on busses has less to do with discomfort, odour, and repeated bobbing around, and more to do with mamma talking straight through baby's ear to other mamma at top decibel. But whispers are a lost art in the bussing culture, as they are in many an african gathering. Tip for those prone to being stared at by babies: Look straight back at him/her with angry creepy eyes and make low frequency growling sounds - this low frequency will be lost on dear baby's mamma - so you should be safe there.

Right...onwards :)

Friday, October 21, 2011

to gtown i go - bus bantah

we haven't even left the station and the oily, lunchbox chicken is out!'s gonna be a long one! Another chick is suckling on her tropika, making for a dodgy starting ambiance to the trip. The little black lever which controls whether or not you want aircon and how strong, is brokkken rendering me choiceless in the matter. No doubt this will become a more pertinent issue when we are cruising mid morning through the biting karoo.

some loud mouth in front is talking some serious politics. Comparing julius malema to chris hani but saying julius is rude and arrogant. He says there's nothing wrong with saying "jacob zuma, you are wrong", but the shit julius gets up to is just profane and ridiculous. i'm listening a bit closer. I think he's now declaring how you need a wife to become president - so you dont lose your marbles. "What about Mugabe? says someone." Eish..the talk ceases slightly.

the chick is still slurping. Yoh. is tropika really that good. I counter her by slurping on my strawberyy yogisip. Bang! She looks around. Tick. bus disturbance #1 conquered...for now. Unfortunately nothing one can do about the aircon and the chicken odour. we're pulling out of park station now. It took me 3 minutes on the gautrain from sandton to rosebank, from where i caught a gau-bus (whats the point in calling it a gautrain bus) to park station in 20 minutes...IN RUSH HOUR. Amazing. Very impressed. R25 in total.

Sun setting over jozi...pretty. The dvd is starting - intro music a predictable RnB beat..will report back on the plot soon. Watch this space for more updates. (battery dependent)