Lasagne

The new year has brought many personal aspirations, one of which is an improved diet.
While cold Chicken burgers from Nahoon Spar are great, and only R11.95, they don't exactly say 'Sustainable diet'.
Hence we're no longer every-man-for-himself'ing it.  Monday's are mine and last night so was a lasagne.

The problem with lasagne is the sheer number of containers required.  Housemate Nic and I agree that the awesomeness of the meal is inversely proportional to number of dishes requiring a wash afterwards.  Best is 1, including the plate. Bachelor life FTW.

Noteworthy events:
White sauce exploded somewhere between 3mins to go, and me being distracted by the mince.
Oven grill very effective. Very.

Bloukrans

Other than the awe-inspiring wind turbine just outside Coega, the last item of interest on my trip to the Cape was an unscheduled stop at Bloukrans, for a bungy jump.

Long time an item on my bucket list, the 5 hour Sunday drive and Pete's casual attitude to road-tripping left enough time for a stop.

Face Adrenalin, an Aussie company, operates the jump.  An Aussie operates the office.  Putting aside my dislike for Australians (excl family), I agreed to let his team tie a rope around my legs and push me off a bridge.

In hindsight, I made some poor decisions this holiday.

Once on the bridge, you're at the mercy of the high-energy music and the dubious pronunciation of your guide.  Like something out of a bad dream, 15 of us crowded around our leader while he rattled off a list of 'Donts', but all I heard was '...Im trying to describe this girl without being disrespectful...'.  Not exactly useful information.

The video feed running to the pub on the hillside is enough to inspire confidence in anyone and priority 1 was to give a manly launch off the bridge, not to melt off the side.  They tell you not to look down.  Good call jump operators.

After my successful cover up, I had to resign myself to death for 5 seconds, as I plummeted, pulled by the bungy cord, toward the river bed.  At this point I reverted to outright terror and remember gasping for enough air to get a good scream out.  Fortunately there are no cameras down there.

Its over in about 2 minutes, which makes it a pricey experience, which I probably won't repeat, yet totally recommended for everyone... once.

Face adrenalin Bloukrans Bungy Jump bookings tel: +27 42 2811 458

Dassiesfontein

I have a number of vices.  One of them is coffee, one of the others is bread.  Fresh bread.  Fresh homemade bread.

In light of this, I asked my co-roadtripper Pete to pull in at Dassiesfontein farmstall, just before the right on the N2 toward Villiersdorp.  We were enroute to the mother city, Cape Town.

Dassiesfontein, or Dassies, is best known in our family for their homemade, white bread.  To others, Im not sure... the shop, now resembling something like a General Dealer from the 50's mated to a garage sale, and a Mugg & Bean.  And they sell kippers.  Who eats kippers...?! and wasn't born in the 50's.

Alas, despite the obvious demand for their highly prized/ced loaves, it seems they soldier on with a single oven and the singularly determined approach of placing orders in advance.  For the less-prepared, you can purchase a pie - the pie in question was the first indication that Cape Town prices... are not East London prices.

You can pre-order bread at Tel: 028 214 1475

Fortunately the bread was not essential.  I went in looking for flowers, found some awesome... yellow... ones. Green stems. Nice.

Shopping

The Christmas season is a bountiful opportunity to witness humans in action, most often in shopping centers... like Vincent Park.

I was watched a man looking at cricket bats... at Game.  First up.  Who buys a cricket bat from Game?  *Alarm bells*.  We've all seen it, and before my illusions of 'having ball skills' were shattered, I may have done similar.

Cricket bat selection process:

Step 1: Pick up prospective bat, hold it upright... twist hands on grip and shake. (Determine construction integrity of bat)
Step 2:  Play mock forward defensive.
Step 3: Repeat Step 1. (determine whether hitting the illusionary ball has damaged bat?!)
Step 4: Purse lips, glance around.  Play mock cover drive.
Step 5: Replace bat on shelf. (Satisfied, well aware that you're not sure of anything despite rigorous testing.)
Step 6: Go and buy the toaster you originally came to Game for.

The future

It's 4:10ish and Im busy enjoying my 4pm coffee.  Its becoming more and more of an institution, as we approach the holidays.  This morning I threw some biscuits into my bag, in anticipation of this cup of coffee.  The biscuits were made in India, they cost about R2.50 at Nahoon Spar.

I regularly debate capitalism with housemate CP, usually shortly after I offer him an Indian biscuit.  That aside, these biscuits are a bountiful source of joy, because they represent so much more than just food.

They never go soft.  You can leave the packet open for days at a time and they remain crispy.  Its like hot chocolate that you only add water too.  It exists!  I know what that means, and that three dieticians just passed out, but in terms of sheer convenience, the future promises to be a gold mine.

The mind boggles at what food technologists everywhere are cooking up.

Wriggleswade dam

Destination Wriggleswade Dam.  A few kilometres short of Stutterheim, we hooked a right and hit the long dirt road leading to the dam.

After suffering a wrenched ankle during the final ELUF league game.  I kid you not. We have a league.  I resigned myself to spectating as housemate Nic and Cat took part in the Rotary Triathlon and Mile swim, respectively.  It was a tough call to make, but someone's got to lie in the sun and eat the picnic.

We watched the winner jog over the finish line.  He picked up his complementary loaf of bread (sponsor: Mr Bread), strolled back to his bike and packed his stuff.  Two men said well done, another man was fishing... and we ignored him - it took a while to realise this dude was actually the winner.  Very casual affair.

I attempted to track Cat's progress in the swim... but its hard enough to recognise a swimmer when you're standing next to them if they're capped and goggled.  Again, I had to settle for a cup of Quaffe and my wordy book.  I read a book at a sports event.  I just realised the significance of that.

Late night

Its friday, i go to bed in about 9 hours, which is a problem given its almost home time...

Its last-event-of-2010 time, kick a tree... and its probably a pine tree.  Kick it hard and you might get hit by a ball-bell.  Debate reigns on whether to go authentic or box-tree.  Typical white person behaviour at this time of year.
Its Christmas parties, end of year dinners, last get togethers and other food-centric events which seem to be occupying most evenings.  It also presents an opportunity for politicking in a variety of crowds - this year spanning all ages.

Each season has its share of social awkwardness; what to wear, what to drink... but most importantly... what to buy for secret santa.  With price limits set at an attainable 20 bucks, being original invariably means taking a risk.  Two years ago I received a pair of scissors.  Grateful as I am for the implement... it didn't quite say 'Christmas cheer', and so I'm wary of being too practical when picking gifts.

My input is this:  Biltong.