Smiles in, frowns out

To hell with it – despite the bad things that have happened in recent days, I’m not going to let the week end on a bad note. There are a fair number of good things that are happening/have happened, so let me don my familiar garb of eternal optimist:

1. I’m flying down to Durbs with the Gilb for the long weekend. After visiting very briefly for the Durban July (the first official visit since 1999) I decided I had to come and check out the SA city that has arguably changed the most in recent years. The Gilb, can you believe it, has never been. So amid all the friend-visiting, I’m hoping to get some decent sight-seeing in. And have a damn fine curry or five, while we’re at it.

2. The week that has past feels like a four-day week instead of the customary five-day slog. Aided mostly by Wednesday’s sojourn at a day spa, comprising a marathon destressing rub-and-scrub-seven-treatments session for me and all my colleagues.

We arrived at Montecasino at the butt-crack of dawn, caught a bus to the resort (Mangwanana, somewhere out Hartebeespoort Dam way) and were ordered to disrobe before breakfast (which of course at these places consisted of muesli and fruit). All in all, there were about 50 visitors, each one wrapped in a white towel robe with matching slippers. It felt like a pyjama party – only far more diverse than the standard kind, as this one was attended by some 50-something CEO types, alongside Sandton kugels, alongside expectant mothers, alongside rowdy twenty-something boozy types (us, of course).

It’s a great concept, actually – it achieves more successfully what the government’s expanded public works programme has tried to do – create jobs. Only in this case, the jobs are permanent, the skills are real and the clients actually feel they’re getting something for their money. About 300 local people were trained up to become masseuses, and the place is open 7 days a week, with day and night spa treatments available. Oh, and you have a limitless supply of alcohol on hand.

The day went pretty much as follows:

a. Shuffle to the table in your gowns, be fed.
b. Order an alcoholic beverage.
c. Shuffle off to some outside lapa where a masseuse slathers some body part in oils and creams and rubs you vigorously while you doze.
d. After 45 minutes, a drum sounds, you awake from your happy slumber and shuffle back to the table in your gowns.

And this process was repeated seven times! Every inch of my body was paid far more attention than it has received in at least the past year, and it saddens me to think they will have to wait for another similar experience before receiving the same attention again.

What totally cracked me up was the fact that everyone shuffled around at the same time, in the same white robe, in a zombie-like reverie, slaves to the bright black-and-orange clad masseuses – it had either a cult (Cult of the White Robe, we called it) or a psychiatric ward vibe going.

3. Like Gabrielle from Desperate Housewives, I feel all broody like a mother at the minute. St Stithians sent me a copy of the report of the Matric pupil I mentor, and I’m all proud of him for his achievements, and I have really enjoyed reading the comments his teachers have made about him. I will have to give him a stern talking to, however, as the area in which he has performed least well is Science, which is just not acceptable for my mentee. So I shall castigate him over a milkshake or something (he can’t have it all harsh, can he?) in the next few days…

4. For all my misgivings about Jacob Zuma, the man can only really start to distress me at the end of next year, when in all likelihood he’ll be elected ANC President. So why stress about it now? Denial is a powerful, powerful drug, and if he’s knocking it back, then why can’t I?

5. After not hearing from my bloody best mate in Vancouver for ages, teasnob’s Mom called me to tell me he had the good sense and common decency to send Timmy and me a postcard during his US cavort. And not a damn moment too soon, dear boy, for I shall have skinned you alive on our Mozambican holiday next month… (and ps: pretty please bring me a really tacky – but cheap, I know your finances won’t allow more – American gift. Like steal a pro-/anti-Bush poster from somewhere!)

6. Speaking of Mozambique, I finally stopped being polite about the refund of my now 10-month-old ticket for my ill-fated trip there in December of last year. On Monday, I lost my temper, demanded names of managers and threatened to sue, and voila! The money will be deposited into my bank account by this coming Monday, and the travel agency will wait for the airline to refund them the money. So my poor month will finally receive a little dole treatment.

Ok, with all this positivity I feel I am entitled to one bitch point, mkay?

7. My fourth and final visit to the dentist this month (and a very large part of the reason I need a dole supplement) has been extended to a fifth. The dude ensconced an incisor in filling and bond to prevent it from “crumbling away” (I had an abcess there in primary school which killed the nerve, and dead teeth inevitably return to ashes, I have been informed), but in so doing has completely changed the shape of the tooth so it now looks noticeably unlike its partner. Worse, it’s been enlarged to the point that I can’t squeeze floss between it and one of its neighbours, which does not do my OCD oral hygiene tendencies any good.

Right. I’m bloggily spent, I hope you have super-duper long weekends, and take a moment to appreciate your SA heritage, regardless of your political beliefs or the country you now call home. For it is truly a lovely, lovely spot on this Earth.

PS: Happy birthday for yesterday Rev! If the f*&%ing Internet had been working properly yesterday, I’d have been able to comment on your site. Mwa!