When I look back on this past year, I’m reliving the bizarre, scary, sad, frustrating days and months we’ve survived. At least, so far!

When I originally planned to come to South Africa, it was with the idea that perhaps it would be a place that I could throw out the anchor. After all, I was born here and lived here until I was 18 and then made numerous trips “home”. Sometimes on my own, a couple times with my boys when they were little and then spent a good three years at the beginning of the 2000’s. And of course, my two brothers are still here and also lots of my old school friends.

I landed at the beginning of October 2019, with the express idea of living as a local, not as a tourist. The first couple of months I spent with Mick and Debbie in Ashburton, sort of feeling my way and putting out feelers for a place to live. I got a car on a long-term rental (which I’ve continued as it’s a lot more practical than buying one!) so from the beginning had wheels.

Initially, I didn’t do too much adventuring; I didn’t realize how tired I was and how stressful the past couple of years had been. But soon enough, at the beginning of December, I found a cute place to rent in Westville, right down the road from my old high school that I hated!

Being on my own again took some adjusting and there were lots of lonely times, but by the beginning of March, I was definitely feeling more comfortable.

Then…we all know what happened! The most draconian lockdown which continues today but to a far lesser degree. But those first weeks I felt as if I was back isolated in Washington. It was awful. As much as I appreciate electronic media, the chat apps and messages, it’s just not the same as talking to people face to face. When a 7 day window opened when we were “allowed” to move house, I hightailed it back to Ashburton. Once again, I was exhausted and felt like I had been run over by a truck.

As the lockdown continued, I felt my life closing in on me, and my original plans of looking at this country as a permanent home were put on the back burner. Life was constrained to minimal movement out of the house, minimal contact with anyone (besides Mick and Debbie) and generally a complete lack of motivation on my part to do anything. I looked at repatriation flights that were fraught with missteps and screwups and decided they were far too expensive and unreliable. I could quite easily get stuck in an airport somewhere when I flight was cancelled.

Gradually, as we were “allowed” more freedoms, I ventured out a bit. Met Gael walking her dogs; assisted remotely with a virtual festival, and continued with the underwear site. Little by little, restrictions were lifted and I started thinking again of finding a place of my own. So I put out the word.

At the beginning of August I moved into my little place.

And life began to take shape again. I could go down to walk at the beach. I could meet friends out in the open for coffee. Volunteering at Woza Moya is easy as it’s so close to my flat. Slowly, I began to start feeling like I have a life! Back at the beginning, I vowed to have an adventure a week, which of course didn’t happen during the hard lockdown. But once I moved into this place, and restriction are lifting, that’s what’s happening.

I feel like I really do have a chance of making a real life for myself here. I’m doing the things I like to do - small adventures every week, volunteer work for Woza Moya, meeting friends for lunches and coffees and just being! No stresses of things that have to be done; no worries about where I will live. My biggest worry is keeping the monkeys out of the kitchen and stopping them from stealing the food!

A couple of weeks before I left the States, I started making notes - a sort of diary that I dictated to the Notes app on my phone. (It converts speech to text.) A couple of weeks ago, I looked back on the 150 or so notes I’ve made, as I sat alone and confined in my granny flat; or sitting on the veranda at Mick’s, watching the birds; or most recently here in my little place. In a sense, it’s been a lockdown diary, a real journey and I feel like I should do something with it. But it’s pretty revealing - I’ve read it through a couple of times and actually amaze myself that I have come through it - not unscathed but feeling good and ready to take on life again.

So on that note…

Last weekend I went to the wildflower fields again. There had been a bit of rain since our last visit and we saw a whole different variety of wildflowers. And one that our professional horticulturist couldn’t identify, which is pretty exciting as now the experts are looking at the pictures I took. Of course, I took way to many pictures, but will post a few. We’ll go again in a month.

In the middle of the week, I met up with some of my school friends for lunch at the docks and it’s very sad to see so many of the small cafes and shops closed. Even some of the larger outfits are gone… But I loved being down around the boats and on the water.

I continue to work with Woza Moya which is gratifying, knowing that what we do is so important and puts food on the table of so many households.

And have pretty much decided that I will be here 9 months of the year and go to the States for 3 months during the northern summer. So come on down…we’ll go on safari.