Tips for travelling journos

One of the best things about my job is the travel. I get to see places I would never go and it costs me almost nothing. It’s also helped with my goal of putting my passport to good use as evidenced by all the entry and exit stamps.

I do about six trips a year at the moment, mostly international or regional. I’ve reached the point where I crave a getaway after three months, something I never experience before.

If you’re new to the game of frequent travel, here are a few things I’ve learnt over the past seven-odd years.

1: Pack at least one outfit of the opposite season. If you’re travelling to a summer climate, pack one full winter outfit – long pants and jersey or jacket – and a summer outfit to a winter climate. Weather reports can be wrong and unless you have the funds to buy clothes on your journey, take something you can wear if the weather changes on you.

2: Take sun protection. If you’re not going to apply the sunblock before you leave your hotel room, pack it in your bag. And take a cap or head covering of some sort – you can’t apply sunblock to your scalp. Unless you’re bald, in which case remember to smear some Tropitone on your noggin. Don’t forget to apply sunblock to your ears – they get horribly burnt – and the back of your neck.

3: A backpack or messenger bag are the best options; leave your handbag at home. A backpack will distribute the weight of your belonging evenly, so that you don’t get aches in your neck or shoulder. A messenger bag allows you to have easy access to your stuff and if slung across the body, shouldn’t need to be constantly readjusted. Both bags leave your hands free – for taking pictures, climbing etc. Just make sure you pick one that’s large enough for all the things you need to have on you as well as the potentially discarded jersey and half finished bottle of water. They can either double as your airline hand luggage, or can be flat-packed in your suitcase and put to use on the other side of the plane trip.

4: Inform your bank when you’re leaving the country so that they can provision your credit or debit card for use in a foreign market. It’s not to say that you have to swipe your card, but you don’t want to be in situation where you need the money but the transactions are denied. It’s just a quick phone call that could save you much embarrassment. These days, you can even do it online.

5: Speaking of money, if you want cash, rather draw directly from an ATM after landing. Don’t bother with forex unless you will require cash for something like an entry visa. Be aware, however, that you will charged for ATM withdrawals, so decide how much cash you’ll need and keep these transactions to a minimum.

6: If you travel more than twice a year, keep a separate travel vanity kit. Stock it with everything you’d normally remove from your bathroom when packing – shampoo, conditioner, face wash, tooth brush, tooth paste, razor, face cloth, tweezers etc. This way you don’t accidentally leave something behind and get stuck in a third world country unable to brush your teeth. It also makes it easier when you get home – you don’t need to unpack before having a shower since your bathroom is still fully stocked. And don’t take full-sized bottles of shampoo and conditioner. Decant into plastic travel bottles, the kind you’re allowed to pass through airport security with. Unless you’re going away for weeks, or you liberally lather your locks daily, you’ll virtually never need more than 50ml. If you are a heavy user, pack multiple little bottles and throw them away as you empty them – no use bringing empty containers all the way home when you can replace it for a few rand.

7: If you suffer from an ailment that requires medication, get an emergency script from your doctor before you go. For me, it’s more about not being a pain and having to find a pharmacy while everyone else on the trip is standing around waiting for me than it is about needing the medication. But also, the pharmacy might not be able to help and you may need to see a doctor. All of which can be expensive and mess with the plans set out for your trip. Play it safe and just take what you think you might need with you. Oh, and if you’re going to an Islamic country, like Dubai, take a copy of the script  when you take  medication with you – they have strict laws about drugs and often OTC or prescribed medication is classed as  illegal. And don’t decant your meds into one of those nifty pill caddies – keep them in their boxes (or bottles) with their paper inserts and the little pharmacy labels. Don’t give officials any reason to suspect you of nefarious intentions.

8: Don’t fill your suitcase when you pack at the start of your trip. Even if you don’t bring home any souvenirs, things never fit as well as they did when you first packed. And instead of spending time trying to make it all fit, leave space to allow for this anomaly.

9: Pack stash. Unless you routinely eat only three meals a day and aren’t fussy about what’s put on your plate, take a few snack packs of food with you. Dried fruit, nuts, biltong, maybe a chocolate or two; just a couple things for when a craving hits. For me, it’s as much about control as it is about the hunger. On press trips there’s usually very little you have control over – things have been planned and organised and someone else is in charge of ferrying you around. I’m not at all opposed to this, but it does leave me at loose ends, because I like to be in control. Stash gives me a feeling of control and allows me to enjoy the trip.

10: And finally, always, always, always have a camera at hand. You don’t have to be an accomplished photographer, but pictures are an important part of your trip. They can help you remember the small details that round out your story, and evoke memories that can colour your narrative. And thanks to digital cameras, you don’t have to limit the number of shots you take.

State of my soul

I’ve been to a local petshop inside a garden centre a few times in the last couple of weeks. They have a flock hand reared baby ringnecks, love birds and cockatiels that I stop and talk to when I’m there. There’s a little green ringneck who ‘talks’ back, making a screeching sound when I whistle at him. He’s adorable and I’m so tempted to take him home.

But here’s the thing – I don’t want another bird. Baylea is already a bit of a pain. She’s messy, not necessarily messier than your average pet parrot, but messier than I’m happy with. And she’s destructive. She’d developed a taste for tile grout and she loves to pick the top layer of leather off my couches.

So adding another bird to the household, of a breed that is known to be noisy, isn’t what I’m after. But I figured out today why it’s so tempting. I want to connect with another soul. I need to get to know someone else. I guess I want to spend time with a new being.

Making a new friend would be ideal, but there’s a part of me that feeling so down and unlikeable at the moment that I know I’m just setting myself up for failure. I’ve been thinking that it would be wonderful to just hang out with someone. Watch TV or cook a meal. Have someone in my space.

Getting a puppy would fill my soul, this I know. But I have none of the things that I feel are necessary for responsible puppy ownership – money for good food, vet bills and training, and a garden for relaxation. I also travel a fair bit, so I’d miss out on a lot of stuff.

At this point, I’d gladly and gratefully settle for a puppy playdate. My soul yearns for that sweet puppy breath, those little tongues that like to kiss your face, those chubby little bodies that are often uncoordinated and those wild bursts of enthusiasm for play.

I miss my DharmaDog at times like these. Even though she didn’t live with my once I moved out, she was always there at my parents place when I went to visit and I could fetch her for sleepovers. For many years after I had to put her down, I didn’t want another dog. I wanted MY dog. It took a long time for me to accept that I was never going to get her back. And although I’d still chose her over another, I feel like I could love another dog now. I’ve already picked out names for the dogs I hope to have one day.

So, yeah, I’m a little bit down, and a little bit lonely at the moment.

The joys of the single life

I’m that perpetually single friend that causes problems with seating charts and lovers of even numbers. I’m as single as it’s possible to be, having never been in a relationship. I’ve been on one date in my lifetime and it wasn’t an experience I’m eager to have again. 

I am also fiercely independent, figuring that if I can’t do it myself, or pay someone to do it for me, then it clearly is a thing that shouldn’t happen.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure that being in a relationship is great. And kids are wonderful. Although I find myself craving puppy cuddles more often than I miss S-Friend’s wonderful offspring. Then again, I get to see the munchkins a lot more often than I’m able to find someone who doesn’t mind me kidnapping their tiny canine for an afternoon.

Generally I’m of the ‘don’t knock it until you’ve tried it’ school of thought, so I can’t for certain say that I don’t want these things. I do enjoy taking care of people, so I reckon I’d rather like having a boyfriend and/or child of my own.

But, being single does have its upsides, especially for people who are a little anti-social and extremely introverted.

On those days when life has sucked, I can take refuge in my home, where it’s quiet and devoid of people. I love that my space is all mine. I don’t have to share it. I don’t have people wandering into the kitchen or changing the channel on the TV. I love that everything is where I left it (although I wouldn’t mind if someone wanted to put the clean dishes away).

When I’m sick or injured, I love that I don’t have to take care of other people; that I can wallow in my misery without guilt. Sure, it would be nice to have someone take care of me, but from what I’ve seen of my married friends, that doesn’t happen too often. Being women, they are the primary care givers, whatever they’re going through.

Sure, life gets a bit lonely from time to time, but this passes.

It might be seen as selfish, but it’s not like I’m shutting the door in the faces of dozens of guys clambering to make a life with me. I look at it more as appreciating the life I have instead of pining for life that I don’t.

Hazyview: 4/5

You know you’re a travel journo when you itch for a getaway.

I’ve been on two trips this year, to Nigeria (not my best) and Turkey (holy paper hat, it’s amazing), but it’s been a few months since I returned from Istanbul and I have been chomping at the bit to get out there again.

Thanks to some fabulous people at Tsogo Sun, I spent a long weekend at their Sabi River Sun Resort with A-Friend – a real treat.

It took us about six hours to reach the hotel from Joburg. Google Maps reckons you can do it in under five hours, but I wasn’t in the mood for racing flat out. We stopped a few times for smoke and toilet breaks, because I don’t allow smoking in my car. We also stopped in Machadodorp for a PEP stop and to pick up bags of the world’s best biltong and dry wors at the Machado Slaghuis.

We got stuck behind a fair few trucks heading in the same direction, and as I’m not a huge risk-taker, I didn’t try to overtake on blind rises, much to the irritation of the idiots behind me.

All-in-all however, it was a pleasant trip. I haven’t driven that far in a long time, and the winding roads snaking up and down the escarpment kept me sufficiently focussed.

From Joburg’s chilly climate, we entered the lovely warmth of the Lowveld; the sunny days are so hot in winter that slops and t-shirts are necessary. The heat disappears quickly once the sun sets, and takes a while to warm up the earth the next day, but it was a lovely change from all the jerseys and boots being donned in Gauteng.

I really wanted to get out to Mpumalanga and visit the places of my childhood memories. We were in the area in about 1992 and did the whole tourist thing as a family. I seem to recall having a lot of fun in Pilgrim’s Rest and God’s Window, but I think my memories might have deceived me. Or perhaps it’s a case of rose-tinted glasses, because I was very disappointed.

Pilgrim’s Rest is virtually a ghost town. The single street has only a handful of shops of open and I think A-Friend and I were the only visitors. There are a couple of car guards who washed my car without permission and were upset that I refused to pay them for the service. We did have a good cappuccino at the sole coffee shop, and I made friends with the African Grey parrot.

God’s Window, on the other hand, was crawling with noisy tourists, spoiling the peace and quiet I was hoping for. So we didn’t stay long.

Graskop is clearly more popular than Pilgrim’s Rest. The main street has a number of small shops and two pancake houses. They also have tourist prices.

I’d have to say that my favourite part of the day was driving the twisty, narrow roads. There were very few cars and Google Maps seems to have mapped the area well, so we didn’t get lost or drive off a cliff.

A-Friend and I spent the second day of our holiday at the resort. Honestly, there’s really no reason to leave, unless you really want to see the countryside.

On the hotel grounds you’ll find walking trails, an 18-hole golf course, a bowls green, volleyball and tennis courts, a kiddies play area with swings and a jungle gym, and a sparkling pool. I trust that the facilities are top notch – I didn’t have the energy or motivation to test any of them. I did, however, make a point of lounging by the pool before my booking at the Eden Spa.

It was really decadent to spend a couple of hours stretched out on a lounger in the sun. I removed my takkies and exposed my very white feet to the rays, but pulled them under cover when things got too hot. So early in the morning (this was before 09h00 on a Saturday), the vibe was mellow – just the way I like it.

Eden Spa offers a wide range of treatments at very reasonable prices and it was no trouble to spend a few hours inside being rubbed and scrubbed. The premises is small, and perhaps a little close to the main hotel area to give you an isolated feeling, but the two treatment rooms mask the sounds of the outside world with tranquil music and white noise.

I booked a back massage, and a full-service mani-pedi. I was assigned a therapist who completed all of my treatments with skill. I was intrigued with the foot soak, which felt very much like sticking my feet into a basin of warm jelly bubbles. I had such fun squishing it between my toes and swirling my feet to cover every inch of skin I could reach. Apparently it’s a special treatment that works on the pressure points in the feet and draws out toxins. I have to say that my feet did feel really good afterwards.

I left with freshly painted toes and fingers and a little less tension in my shoulders, ready to laze the afternoon away, which I did without a second of guilt.

It’s rare that I can go away without it being work related, and although I did have to write a review for the magazine, I left my laptop at home and just enjoyed myself.

I went to Turkey and I loved it

Of all the places on my travel bucket list, Turkey didn’t even register, and I can’t think why not. It just seems ridiculous that I had never thought of visiting is amazing country.

The universe obviously knew that I needed to see this place, and conspired to include me on a recent media trip to Istanbul, sponsored by Turkish Airlines. And I’m so glad it did, ‘cos Istanbul is amazing.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, maybe a bit more of a third world vibe – old cars, lots of bicycles, roadside hawkers – but I was pleasantly surprized at its complete and utter first-world-ness. With the exception of ridiculous traffic, with rush hour lasting most of the evening, there was nothing to suggest a lack of infrastructure or development. The roads are tarred, the traffic lights work and everyone obeys the unspoken and hard-to-decipher rules of the road. Modern skyscrapers tower over the three-storey older buildings – an odd mix, but it gives the city a wonderful character.

Remnants of the city’s fortifications are scattered along the coastline, a very real historical reminder. And unlike most of the history found in Istanbul, you’re allowed to touch it. There are a large number of ancient palaces that have been restored and are open for public viewing, but you have to make sure to cover your shoes when you enter, and you’re not allowed to touch or photograph. They’re still worth a visit, though. I really loved the opulence of the Beylerbeyi Palace and I’m glad I got to see it.

Istanbul is the place to go if you’re looking for fabulous quality leather goods. The jackets and coats I was offered were too rich for my blood (averaging R10k for a jacket and R20k for coat from a wholesaler, including a decent discount), but the quality of the material and craftsmanship made me drool over the merchandise.

Turkish carpets are also of extremely high quality, and after seeing a demonstration of the art, I can appreciate the price tags. Here I wasn’t tempted, but I enjoyed the display.

The city is teeming with international cuisine, mostly in the form of fast food chains – KFC, Dominos, Burger King and MacDonalds to name a few – and prices are reasonable. If you want to taste the local cuisine, there are restaurants catering to tourists and locals. But be warned – the food isn’t what you’d expect. I ordered a shawarma from Gelik, being told by a guide to ask for the doner kebab. What arrived was a plate of thinly-sliced, oddly-spiced lamb with a few chips – not my best meal and I ended up feeding most of it to the stray cats prowling around for a meal. But I think I was the only one who didn’t enjoy  it, so perhaps I was too fussy.

While fruit, veg and nuts abound, meat and veg are served separately at meals. You’ll get a bowl of salad, followed by a plate of meat and carbs (at one meal, my delicious lamb meatballs were served with chips, rice, pida bread and a wrap), and then dessert. Twice I was served sweetened pumpkin chunks, which I tasted just to be sure that I really didn’t like it.

I think I’d have better luck with the street food where you can see the ingredients being prepared. Unfortunately, I didn’t get an opportunity to try any on this trip, but next time I will know better.

The Grand Bazaar was an experience, but I would have preferred to visit a less touristy marketplace. The Egyptian, or Spice, Bazaar was worth a visit and a good place for people who don’t feel comfortable haggling over price as it’s considered rude to try and bring down the price of food. Get yourself some fresh Turkish Delight – it really is wonderful and makes me wonder what the hell it is they put in boxes and sell in the shops as Turkish Delight, because one is nothing like the other. Most places will vacuum pack your fresh-food purchases so that you can take them out of the country without hassle.

I’m definitely planning a return trip to Istanbul, and I’d like to see other regions of the country too. If Turkey isn’t on your list of travel aspirations, remedy that right now. Istanbul is safe, the people are friendly and helpful and there is so much to see. And the exchange rate of about R5 to 1 Turkish Lira makes it an affordable holiday. 

Complex planners, what were you thinking?

I am one of the lucky ones. I owned property before I was 30, with a little help from the parentals. Yes, it’s a tiny piece of real estate, but it’s mine. I’m not paying off someone else’s bond each month; the money I spend goes towards eventual ownership.

I’ve owned my little shoebox for six years. For six years I’ve lived in a complex, and I have few issues. Notwithstanding the issues around complex rules and parental figures on the board of trustees that make me feel as if I’m still a teenager living at home, I have issues with the people who plan these living spaces.

In my complex, the 120-odd units are a mixture of one-, two- and three-bedrooms, allowing for occupants in all stages of life. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but my objection stems from the layout of the units. I don’t know about you, but it makes logical sense to me to group like units together. 

So, the single people, or childless couples would mostly choose a one-bedroom unit, where the likelihood is that everyone would be fairly quiet. The families with young children would mostly choose the two-bedroom units, where the kids are small and noisy. And the larger units would be snapped up by older families with kids who need their own rooms. There would likely be high levels of activity with friends visiting and TVs blaring.

Instead, what I live with is the odd one-bedroom rammed in between four or five family units, giving me the whole spectrum of familial life stages – I’ve got crying babies and tantruming toddlers in my block, along with a very sweet, quiet senior citizen. All because of stupid planning.

I’m not sure who thought it was a good idea to put a swimming pool in a complex, although it seems to be a standard feature in complexes from the beginning of time. Perhaps when fewer families raised their kids cheek by jowl with 20 other families, or when parks were still viable play areas. I don’t know. What I do is that no one wants the units next to the pool because of the noise. And I’ve never, not once, felt the urge to take a dip in a ‘public’ pool.

It would make more sense to use this space for a proper playground. The kind that seven-year-olds can be trusted to play in without supervision. The kind with swings and a jungle gym and a slide. The kind that moms or nannies can take toddlers to play in the sand pit. The kind where kids can let off steam and burn off some of the energy gained by litres of soft drink consumption. Ideally, this play area would be in the centre of young family units, allowing for easy access.

In the centre, or off to one side, of the older family units I would like to see an outside area for the teens. Somewhere with concrete seating, and bushes for privacy. Where the kids could hang out with their friends away from the prying eyes of parents. To get some space from their tiny bedrooms. To make friends with other kids in the complex.

We all complain that kids spend too much time in front of computer and TV screens, yet we don’t do much to encourage them outside. This is a simple solution to start reversing the inside epidemic.  

With the decline of safe, free green spaces in Joburg suburbs, and the busy schedules of working parents, it seems insane that these spaces are incorporated into the complexes that house tens of thousands of families.

Then again, if someone can’t make money off of it, what’s the point, right?