Dreams and Adventures

Life is an adventure -- this is one thing, of which, I am certain.

Over the past month, I have experienced what can only be described as a whirlwind of insanity. I went from wearing Santa Claus-inspired bubble bath beards to sparkling heels and a feather boa in a matter of days, touring through the city's sights with some exceptionally interesting humans, and doing the can-can in front of the Moulin Rouge before the show with Amel. I got next to no sleep with some new friends who I shared chocolate and secrets with in my apartment until nine in the morning, and tried not to get caught picking up the ancient bones of the Parisian catacombs while Marko tried to ignore me after my refusal to accept his advice on respect for the deceased.
Two pink suitcases of luggage for my South African adventure and a few fashion magazines later, plus a little sleep, I exited the international terminal in Cape Town and saw Ali making her way towards the pick-up area with Marko on her cell. After a taxi cab and some overdue updating on each other's lives, we ventured out to "Momma Africa" and ate some crocodile kabobs, ostrich steak, and an antelope jerky that they refer to as "biltong," (excuse my spelling if it's incorrect.)
After all the running around I'd been doing over that week before my arrival, I was absolutely and completely exhausted, and slept deeply and almost eternally on a mattress in Ali's dorm residence until the next morning had completely passed without me. Upon being well-rested, some shopping at the waterfront was in order, followed by a weekend of wine, dancing, and market-scoping. I took a day to truly vacate myself and relax with a classic read, "Catcher and the Rye," and made a plan-of-attack to conquer my tourism needs. I had a great tour of the peninsula, with a small group, and spent hours wandering the botanical gardens of Kirtsenbosch before my two-day safari on a private reserve outside of Cape Town. It was all too wonderful to even describe, and my stay ended far too soon, but we made the best of it an hung out in the castle before we made our hectic way to the airport to say our farewells...
Marko kindly met me at the airport, in spite of his father's presence at his apartment and a very early morning of intense exams at Louis le Grand the next day. Since, it's felt really great to be back in my second home and take in the floral winds and bright skies of springtime in Paris. Getting to hug Etienne again and attack him as the "soap monster" at bath-time also felt amazing. I had begun to miss the noise of a male-dominated household, and even the tickle attacks and inappropriate inquiries of teenage boys. The French coffee is up there on the list of things to miss about being here, as well!
And now, I simply must part for a holiday in Corsica with the Bouyoux family...

Have I mentioned how lucky I am to have gotten this job, with these people, in this absolutely magnificent setting?

La vie est belle.