Karen's world

Monkey war part 2

2015-02-27T07:10:00.001+02:00

Gosh, it's been two years since the Marakele War (http://thisiskarensworld.blogspot.com/2013/02/its-war.html)
You would think we'd know better by now.

Pafuri picnic site, northern Kruger Park (hereinafter referred to as the crime scene)

A gorgeous view, perfect for a picnic. Don't be fooled.

I should have known it was too good to last. We grabbed our extremely organised picnic bag from the car, spread a table cloth over the table, and started unpacking the goodies we'd brought along to eat. Some ALL the way from Phalaborwa Woolies - the rolls, for example. They had been frozen, carefully packed, and defrosted with care to guarantee freshness. There was a wide selection of cold meats and condiments to complete the experience.

No sooner had I put the rolls on the table than the enemy launched its offensive. A large male raced down the tree, dashed across no-man's land and snatched the WHOLE packet of rolls off the table. I blocked his escape and yelled a fierce war cry. Switching instantly to attack mode I snatched it back. The monkey, temporarily shocked, declared a tug of war. He bared his teeth, screaming for backup. I screamed profanities. The packet broke, spilling its precious contents onto the dirt. Sensing my advantage I leaped forward and grabbed two rolls. The Vervet somehow managed to scoop up the other four and make off with them, shouting insults as he ran.

Reinforcements eventually arrived with the heavy artillery.

The Vervet and I both survived to fight another day with nothing more serious than slightly bruised egos (his worse than mine, I should think) but nobody at the picnic table was prepared to eat the rolls.

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Location:Kruger National Park

The Illuminati

2015-01-17T06:19:00.000+02:00

There's a new subspecies of Resolutionite* this year, I give you The Illuminati.

Image credit

I'm all for brightly-coloured gym clothes but some of them are so loud I'm considering wearing my sunglasses.

Fifteen days into the first month of Resolutionites there are a few contenders for the limited Regular positions:

Flounder - essentially a Midmarmite who has left his training too late. He worries me, I don't think he's ready for open water swimming of any description (note to the organisers, please keep a close eye on him)
Jeremiah (was a bullfrog) - a new client of Stripe, although he's far too eager to please her and is at risk of injury unless he slows down a little
The ADD Couple - they really need to focus. This "routine" they've dreamed up has them moving from cycling to weights to stretching every 30 seconds.

I'm pleased to announce that Cleo Lady Marmalade is now a regular (having been promoted from Hatchling status by returning in January) and I'm very impressed with her commitment. She still has regular training sessions with Flash!-Ahaa but turns up almost every day to go through a (far too) rigorous routine. Domestic Goddess is also hanging in there.

Neither of them wears neon clothing, so perhaps there's a message in that.

*Resolutionite - see the #gymlife glossary here

The Resolutionites

2015-01-06T06:32:00.000+02:00

My grandmother and I bought new hats in Garries in July. This picture is entirely irrelevant to the post, but I like it.

It's that time of the year when people make all sorts of rash decisions, label them resolutions and (by and large) set themselves up for failure. Gyms are packed to overflowing and there is grumbling from the Regulars.
I'm quite fond of the Resolutionites for two reasons

Gym fees would be substantially higher if they didn't sign up each January, come to gym for six weeks or so and then disappear for the rest of the year
Some of them turn into Interesting Regulars.

I tend to have more success if I pick an arbitrary day for big decisions.

Walter gave up smoking in early July (it wasn't even a Monday) and has managed to maintain it (this was previously an annual attempt implemented at 24h00 on 31st December)

So don't feel bad if your resolutions don't last. Just pick another day to try again if it's that important to you.

Kieliekrankie

2014-08-30T05:57:00.001+02:00

My view

That's a waterhole waaaay down there...
Kieliekrankie is another wilderness camp, but this one is up in the dunes. You can see the whole world from up here.

I can't think of a better place to wind down after a hard day's game viewing.

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Location:Kgalagadi

A lazy day

2014-08-28T06:20:00.001+02:00

We had four nights at Urikaruus, another wilderness camp with cabins raised on stilts

On the second day Walter and I decided to lounge around camp rather than doing a game drive. It was the coldest day of the trip so far and I huddled in blankets around ET, moving into patches of sun to try to warm up, engrossed in my Kindle. In the early evening the camp attendant came to see how we were doing and while we were having a chat in our kitchen he yelled "cheetah!" and leaped across the room to snatch open the balcony door. We rushed out to see a cheetah racing after the springbok around the waterhole.
There was no kill and that cheetah went to bed hungry last night, but what a sight!

The waterhole, not 100m away from our balcony.

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Location:Kgalagadi

Finglittens and the stompmasjien

2014-08-26T05:50:00.001+02:00

The finglittens have been put to good use in the sub-zero early mornings, this is the pair I've used most (they are black and consequently don't show the dirt)

Talking about dirt...a washing machine is also a good idea (because the teenytiny4x4 doesn't really allow for 3 weeks' worth of clothes so you do actually have to wash them at some stage)

This is the stompmasjien mark I (patent pending)

Method:
Empty the container of tinned foods and place in shower. Add washing powder and water while shower temperature reaches optimal. Add clothes. Stomp on clothes while you shower. Tip container over to empty out the dirty water. Rinse.

Voila! Clean clothes.

Caution - the stompmasjien is an avaricious sockaloshe. Tie socks together as with your suburban version.

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Location:Kgalagadi

ET

2014-08-25T06:12:00.001+02:00

The Kgalagadi is bitterly cold at night in winter. We were lulled into a false sense of security traveling up to Gharagap from Grootkolk, when the temperature reached 36deg C.
But a cold front swept in on our first night at Urikaruus, heralded by a vicious thin wind that had temperatures plunging to -6 overnight and froze the water pipes.

You will need thermal underwear, beanies, jackets and scarves. Finglittens work well too, as does a hefty dose of Old Brown Sherry.

This is ET, a gas heater and our lifesaver. No way I'm getting out of bed without him. He works wonders in the bathroom where he greets you cheerfully as you step out of your piping hot shower. Bless.

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Location:Kgalagadi

Kom in Bravo Drie

2014-08-19T05:39:00.001+02:00

A very clever idea from my Grandmother and Darling, a small two-way radio with a distance of about 15km. They have the base station in their vehicle (spotter one) and we have a handset in ours (sweeper one)

Note the monster aerial on the teenytiny4x4's roof (beware of low-hanging branches)

Perfect, given that the Kgalagadi is the Mordor of cell phone signal.

Useful, too, for game-spotting.

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Location:Kgalagadi

The Empty Quarter

2014-08-18T06:19:00.001+02:00

As I sit here having my condensed milk coffee this morning there is a black-backed jackal curled up near the waterhole, so much like a dog that I almost started looking for the dog food.

Quite a few people told me there's nothing to see here; they couldn't be more wrong.
We have seen bat-eared foxes, meerkats, yellow mongoose, jackals, brown hyena, gemsbok, springbok, kudu, red hartebeest, steenbok, blue wildebeest, eland, striped mice, shrews, tawny eagles, pale chanting goshawks, gabar goshawks, a sub adult martial eagle, ostriches, chestnut-vented tit babblers, crimson breasted shrikes, Karoo scrub robins, yellow-fronted canaries, lanner falcons, sociable weavers, white-browed sparrow weavers, kori bustards, secretary birds, and a spotted eagle owl in a tree at mid day. And that's just what I can remember without consulting the list.

And Walter whispered urgently at some ungodly hour this morning that a lion was outside our tent.
Oh yes, I almost forgot the fattest black-maned lion I've ever seen taking a siesta in the shade.

But by all means stay away if the perfectly-tarred roads of the tame parks are more to your liking, you won't see anything here at all.

This is quite obviously a different lion.

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Location:Kgalagadi

The Werewolf

2014-08-17T06:41:00.001+02:00

I peered through the bathroom 'window' just before sunrise this morning only to be confronted by an enormous werewolf staring straight at me.
This disturbed me for a number of reasons, viz
1. It's not full moon so clearly everyone has been lying to me
2. There is no mention of werewolves in any of the Kgalagadi books/sites I have consulted, which is effectively misleading advertising
3. I would prefer not to be eaten by a werewolf

Gathering my composure (after dropping with ninja-like stealth to the floor and leopard crawling back into the bedroom) I whispered to Walter that our lives were in imminent danger and demanded he save us.
Walter grunted, turned over and carried on snoring while I cast about furiously for a wooden stake, garlic or a silver cross.
I stood guard with a braai fork until the sun came up when I realised it was an XXL spotted hyena. The very same animal that will bite off your face without a second thought. So, effectively a werewolf.

Here he is after circling the cabin, trying to figure out how best to get inside to eat us.

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Location:Kgalagadi

The grass is greener

2014-08-16T08:05:00.000+02:00

Pretty much everywhere I should think, but I'm not convinced that you get more diversity anywhere.

I dub thee popcorn grass (taken in the Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park)

These on the side of the road from Upington to Springbok in the Northern Cape

Proving once and for all that lions are omnivores. You can see his tongue at work. This one taken in the south eastern Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park

A new camp

2014-08-15T06:37:00.001+02:00

After three nights at Grootkolk camp we moved on to Gharagap, another wilderness camp in Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park. The camps take 8 people in 4 cabins and are not fenced, so the wildlife is free to wander through the camps. For this reason they don't allow children under 12 (easy prey)

We went to Union's End so that we could pop a toe into Botswana. It's the northernmost point of South Africa, where Namibia, Botswana and South Africa meet. There's a border fence separating Namibia since there are sheep farms on the other side and the farmers are understandably concerned about providing Kgalagadi predators with free lamb for Sunday lunch.
The pointers show the respective distances to Windhoek, Gabarone and Pretoria.
The End.

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Location:Kgalagadi

How long does it take for a kettle to boil?

2014-08-14T08:49:00.001+02:00

I'm waiting for the kettle to boil so that I can have a cup of coffee with condensed milk to warm me up.

Last night it was minus 292 degrees Karen (roughly -5C)
I say roughly because the formula is a closely-guarded secret and you might work it out if I gave actual temperatures.
Also, I'm not really good with numbers, slippery little suckers.

I wore thermal underwear AND fleecy winter pajamas and socks to bed. Tucked the hot water bottle into the down sleeping bag then covered myself with the duvet and a blanket for the night.
I felt like I'd been swallowed by a boa constrictor but I was warm.

Anyway, the question is - how long does it take to boil the bloody kettle in the Kgalagadi?

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Location:Kgalagadi

Happy birthday to me!

2014-08-13T06:03:00.001+02:00

Scientist No 1 was quite obviously behind this plot (she's incredibly thoughtful) and enlisted the help of Child No 2 and Walter. It required the agreement of my Grandmother and Darling too, because space. Walter couldn't have smuggled a mouse in the Teenytiny4x4 once we'd put a fridge, food, drink, clothes and equipment into/onto the Jimny.

But my birthday arrived and I was summoned inside to "see something" (I assumed a spider and initially refused)

Presents!
A watch, 2 new belts, 3 pairs of Finglittens, a new handbag, a pashmina form the family and 2 solar powered light jars from my grandmother and Darling. And lovely cards.

Everyone sang :-)

And a box with party accoutrements - balloons, shiny cocktail umbrellas, snacks and sweets!

I'm not sure what the wildlife made of our party decorations, but they certainly made it festive.

A most memorable birthday, thanks kids! (And the supporting cast)

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Location:Kgalagadi

I might have discovered heaven

2014-08-12T07:26:00.001+02:00

This is the view from our verandah in daylight hours, but I'm sitting here in the pre-dawn dark wearing several layers of clothing (it's extremely cold) with my finglittens (fingerless gloves with mittens) waiting for the kettle to boil.

I'm also wearing a beanie under my hoodie, which is not ideal since I need to be listening for stalking predators

Yes, that's exactly what it looks like, lion spoor not three feet away from where I'm sitting, alongside the tent.
It's not a camping tent, you understand, more like a luxury safari tent on a concrete foundation with a proper bathroom en suite.

But as far as lions are concerned it's nothing more challenging than attractive packaging.

Location:Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park

The Intruder

2014-08-11T17:07:00.001+02:00

Our first night in the Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park was at Nossob, the last shop and petrol (ahem) before we explored the remoter, northern reaches.
My Grandmother, in her wisdom, managed to book us a guest house with 2 bedrooms, a shower with separate loo and a well-appointed kitchen.
Walter braaied the lamb sosaties and Star Butchery's excellent boerewors and we washed that down with a lovely red blend the wine merchant sent us for our holiday.

Walter and my Grandmother stalking a fierce African ground squirrel at Nossob

In the early hours of the morning I heard someone walking around outside the house. There was something distinctively furtive about his walk, clearly he was trying to be quiet and hence up to no good.

Walter was obviously sound asleep and blissfully unaware that the cars were being targeted. While I was planning a suitable sneak attack the footsteps stopped, changed direction, and headed towards the Teenytiny4x4. Swift action was required. I leaped out of bed, pulled aside the curtains, threw open the windows and demanded "Who are you and WHAT are you doing?"

Silence. Then Darling responded "It's just me, turning off the compressor"
Fortunately the man has a strong heart, he mentioned being quite startled by my midnight attack.

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Location:Nossob, Kgalagadi

The road to nowhere

2014-08-10T06:37:00.001+02:00

This is the long road from Hotazel to Askham, where we found a nifty picnic site for tea.

We bought really good biltong in Hotazel but somehow forgot to buy petrol.
Which is why the car came to a slow halt on the deeply corrugated road 13km short of Askham.

Why yes, those are jerry cans attached to the roof. And yes, they were still empty, pretty, Sandton accessories.

Thank heavens for my Grandmother and Darling, they drove the (diesel-powered) monster to Askham and brought back some petrol for us.

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Location:Northern Cape

The Fallen

2014-04-13T07:02:00.002+02:00

I am indebted to the famous South African artist and writer, Anne Maggs, for alerting me to The Fallen.

Image credit

In my ignorance I assumed there were only two types of gym neophytes to consider: Hatchlings, who arrive in spring, and Resolutionites, who arrive in the first week of January.

Who knew that there is a whole sub species who start gym in April? And, although we refer to this season as autumn here, I think the word fall is appropriate.

I give you The Fallen.

#Gymlife - The Pirate

2014-01-28T06:31:00.000+02:00

For the longest time Walter assumed The Pirate only had one eye. Walter is visual so this would make sense to him, but actually he sounds like Johnny Depp's character in The Pirates of the Caribbean.

Image credit

He is also bald by choice, so I guess he doesn't really bear any resemblance to the standard image of a pirate at all. Which makes perfect sense to me.

I have a love/hate relationship with The Pirate, he's an extrovert of note and needs to talk to someone all the time, looking saddest when he's all alone on the upright cycles. The first time I 'met' him he simply sat down on the Reclinocyle* next to me and started interrogating me.
This was disturbing for a few reasons but mainly because I couldn't understand why. I was tweeting, listening to music and avoiding making eye contact with anyone. Doesn't that just scream "Leave me alone"? My main reason for going to gym at the time was to manage my stress levels and give my brain some time to switch off, I absolutely did not want to talk to anyone. I was frosty and aloof. He persisted.
He's generous with information and not at all put off by my reluctance to engage. There are no awkward silences because he simply volunteers advice (you should run, it's much better for raising your heart rate) until I could scream.
I know all about The Pirate's life, and if I get to gym a little late he makes sure I have a full update whether I want it or not.
He is a relentless investigator but I'm a veteran of avoidance so he has minimal information on me (I think)
He's also an unapologetic gossip who volunteers (sometimes surprising) background information on all the regulars. I guess he's pumped them for information too.
I haven't asked him about Psycho Bob, it would disturb him to hear that I name the regulars and we haven't all been in the same place at the same time so that I can ask (nonchalantly) "What's his story?"
I miss Psycho Bob. Sigh.

*There's a #gymlife glossary here

#Gymlife - Meet Psycho Bob

2014-01-17T07:57:00.000+02:00

Psycho Bob is definitely my favourite GymPerson. With his neon-striped shirts and wild hair he was the first one to grab my imagination; he snuck up behind me one day when I wasn't paying attention, causing my heart rate to rise to dangerous levels for A Person Of Advanced Age.
I realised later that when I saw him I heard the shower scene sounds (ri-ri-ri) from the movie Psycho in my head. Hence his name.

I'd guess he's in his late fifties (although I'm notoriously bad at age-guessing) and bears more than a passing physical resemblance to Judge Albie Sachs. He uses all the equipment like a pro, moving from the treadmill to the upright bike to the weights with ease.
I suspect he lives in the airconditioning ducts at the gym, since I've never actually seen him enter or leave. In spite of his brightly-coloured tops he is a master of camouflage and has been known to materialise at the oddest moments, giving other regulars quite a start.
Note for newbies: It's best to give way to Psycho Bob.
Unrelated - he has a crush on Skinny Model, keeping a close eye on her and making sure she never has to wait to use any of the equipment.

#Gymlife

2014-01-12T06:28:00.000+02:00

The thing about gym is that it's incredibly boring. Really, it's totally unappealing on every level. Until you understand the equipment and get to know the characters you see on a daily basis. The #Gymlife blog posts will help you navigate this strange environment by outlining some basic rules and introducing some of the characters from my own gym. You're welcome.

Reclinocyle Mk1. Image credit

I go to gym really early in the mornings; I absolutely wouldn't go at all if I could sleep, but I'm cursed with instant-alertness at 4am. It's deeply annoying to have an energy rush when the rest of the house is fast asleep and they tend to get tetchy if I start rattling pots and pans before 6am. So I put the energy to good use by going to gym. Walter says I wake him but my ninja skills are such that I can get dressed entirely in the dark.

Gympeople seem to be entirely unaware of their strange behaviour. They race to get to the gym so that they can park right outside the entrance. Think about that for a moment. For people who are determined to gain maximum exercise value from their gym time they seem remarkably ignorant of the carb-burning calorific value of walking a few extra metres. Rule No 1: Take the furthest parking, don't upset the pecking order before you even get into the gym.

Once inside it's imperative you use exactly the same piece of equipment each time. Each Gymperson has their own designated treadmill or swimming lane (or reclinocyle in my case) and I'm convinced that part of the discomfort of hatchling and resolutionite season arises from the newbies' lack of knowledge about which piece of equipment they can use. Rule No 2: Don't just leap onto the first available treadmill. Choose the one furthest from the entrance (see benefits of walking above) This approach also allows you to figure out how to use the equipment without making a complete fool of yourself / causing permanent injury.

I have managed to secure my reclinocycle by retaining the services of the Guardians. They are unreliable, however, so be sure to negotiate a good rate.

Glossary
Guardian (n): 2nd row cyclists (on the upright stationary bicycles) whose job it is to guard equipment for the sole use of their rightful owner/s.
Hatchling (n): a gym neophyte; appears in spring with the intention of losing their winter fat layer and earning a beach-ready body in time for the summer holidays.
Reclinocycle (n): a stationary bicycle that fools your body into thinking it's actually exercising, freeing your hands to (i) practise air-conducting (ii) hold a book or (iii) tweet on your mobile phone.
Resolutionite (n): emerges in the first weeks of January to do exercise as penance for festive over-indulgence.

All burned out and nowhere to go

2013-06-07T06:10:00.000+02:00

Midnight multitasking.

Looking through my (very old) high school reports there's a common theme running through all the comments: Karen has so much potential, it's a pity she wastes it.
My coach* has a theory that these comments may have contributed to my workaholism and subsequent burnout. With the underlying message that the child is lazy and couldn't be bothered to work underachievers may feel guilty about their perceived poor work ethic and spend the rest of their lives trying to prove they can work as hard as anyone else.
Underachievers and workaholics are not the only people at risk; Dr Sherrie Bourg Carter has devoted an entire book to helping superachievers avoid burnout.
"In this authoritative, thoroughly researched volume, psychologist Sherrie Bourg Carter draws on more than 15 years experience and expertise to explore the unique challenges high-achieving women face and provides helpful insights and practical ways to avoid burnout, enjoy healthy fulfilling lives, and find the perfect work/life balance."
Disclaimer - I haven't read the book, nor do I qualify as a superachiever, so I'm not in a position to comment. I have serious doubts about anyone finding the perfect work/life balance though.
Burnout is not new, but it is a growing problem worldwide, with health professionals leading the way. The casualties are also getting younger as Larissa Faw wrote in her 2011 Forbes piece Why Millennial Women Are Burning Out At Work By 30
I suspect our hyper-connected lifestyle isn't helping - there is no clear distinction between work time and down time anymore. Increasing work loads and expectations you will be available all the time mean there is less and less time for work-unrelated activities. People feel guilty about saying no and have problems switching off from work even when they are away on holiday.

The Mayo Clinic has a piece on how to spot job burn out and the Helpguide's recovery strategy gives good advice on what you should do to recover.
Are you suffering from burnout? Let me know what your recovery strategies are, I'm shamelessly stealing all good suggestions.

*I know, right? But in this instance an unrelated professional has provided me with a lot of help.

Taking a sabbatical

2013-06-04T07:01:00.000+02:00

The Pink Drinks girls had widely varying responses to my announcement that I would be 'taking a sabbatical'
Gorgeous Genius blinked at me over her Manhattan and announced it was time for an intervention "Karen buys and sells companies, she doesn't disappear into Buddhist retreats. Clearly she's had a nervous breakdown"
The Border Collie disagreed "Nonsense. They aren't paying private school fees any longer" and my Grandmother (after greeting me with a "You look too dreadful, you need a rest") drained her Tequila sunrise and said "I think it's a fabulous idea. We can walk again"

It had been an exceptionally difficult day at the office, I realised I hadn't seen my best friend in two years and I had a meltdown trying to figure out if I had the energy to have dinner with other friends over the weekend.

I think the team was trying to tell me something...

Sabbatical or a sabbatical (from Latin sabbaticus, from Greek sabbatikos, from Hebrew shabbat, i.e., Sabbath, literally a "ceasing") is a rest from work, or a break, often lasting from two months to a year. The concept of sabbatical has a source in shmita, described several places in the Bible (Leviticus 25, for example, where there is a commandment to desist from working the fields in the seventh year). In the strict sense, therefore, a sabbatical lasts a year. (Wikipedia)

I don't have a year, in fact I consider myself extremely fortunate to be able to take a month off, and the first lesson will be the hardest; to leave the work alone.
I failed miserably on the first day, fielding calls and answering emails. It's day two and I've answered emails so I've scaled down my objectives to: Do not answer the phone. Let's see how it goes.

A limb has fallen from the family tree

2013-05-01T05:58:00.000+02:00

Unknown

Scientist no 1 found this and posted it on her Facebook page in response to losing her uncle, my brother-in-law to cancer.
We are strangely unaccustomed to death even when we know it's overdue.
RIP sweet man, you made us all better people, just for knowing you.

The Amur Falcons of Heidelberg

2013-03-23T07:43:00.000+02:00

"Let's go and see the Amur falcons roosting in Heidelberg" said my grandmother* a few weeks back, "they'll be leaving soon and we can have afternoon tea in town first"
She had found an article in The Saturday Star describing the spectacle of watching the flock coming in to roost in Heidelberg, a little town on the N2 not far from Johannesburg.

Image credit - Andrew Keys
These brave little birds fly non-stop over the ocean for two to three days on their annual migration from Asia to Southern Africa to choose mass roosting spots for their summer holidays.
And so, armed with binoculars and enough snacks to feed a small army, we set off one Saturday afternoon to take tea at Her Majesteas Salon (highly recommended) before finding the roosting spot described in the carefully folded newspaper clipping in my grandmother's handbag.

I'm not sure this particular group has chosen terribly well; a high grove of Poplars behind the local Spar in a particularly seedy part of town, music from the sports bar below blaring out as patrons leave, shouting their drunken farewells.

We were a little late in the year to catch the full flock, with only a hundred or so birds left behind. But still, it's a remarkable experience to watch them coming in for the night, massing high above in the clouds, then swooping in, one by one, to take up their chosen resting spot.

And the clouds that evening were beyond spectacular, reflecting the colours of the setting sun across the way.

Sunset

This shot taken facing east, the light reflecting off the clouds

The two tiny black spots are falcons coming in to roost from the east

Perhaps they haven't chosen badly after all if that light show is anything to go by. Fly safely little birds.

*She's not really my grandmother, it's a (mildly rude) term of endearment for my dear friend Nan. Who is obviously MUCH older than I.