O P o t B

I have been reading a number of posts and articles on love, and what I have found is a description of the qualities or attributes that exists when there is love.  Don't get me wrong, I am not for a second saying this incorrect, on the contrary.  The problem lies in the fact that what we are trying to do is to rationalize that which is irrational and the best that can be done is to associate love with its attributes and hopefully elicit the emotion in the reader and by proxy explain the emotion. I have often wondered how I would explain what I feel when I am in love? How would I explain that when I see my loved one the complete sense of elation and completeness I feel? How do I explain the complete sense of contentment?  How do I explain that when I stroke her hair, the sensations that pass through me? How do I explain the tingling that races up from my fingers straight to the heart?  How do I explain that when I take her in my arms, that time ceases to exist? How...

I have been fortunate enough to have traveled quite extensively, and being a lover of good food I make it a point of finding a place that serves local traditional cuisine.  I have eaten cat fish baked in a pie and pickled herring Germany, clam chowder and fresh crabs boiled in sea water in San Francisco, goat and camel in Saudi Arabia and a whole host of dishes, both savory and unsavory across the world.  Of all this is the one that really stands out for me.  At a restaurant in Mumbai, a stainless steel tray with six small bowls is placed in front of me.  A waiter proceeds to fill each bowl with a different vegetable dish.  A couple of chapatis, papa-dams and a number of spicy pickles are strewn around the tray.  Ghee, or clarified butter is spooned over the chapatis. The aroma of the food fills the air and I salivate in anticipation.  Proceeding from left to right, breaking a piece of chapati and scooping a small quantity of the contents, I taste ...

Its 6am, and I slide open the door to the balcony.  The sound of seagulls screeching announcing their presence assaults my ears.  The sky is dark and as the sun slowly makes its way over the horizon, the world is painted a warm golden orange hue.  Kelp, with its feet, firmly planted on the sea bed, bob up and down on the surface encouraging the swell on its way to shore, as it rears up and breaks as white crested waves on the rocky shoreline.  A crisp fresh breeze blows the salty ocean air into the room and permeates the senses of taste and smell.  A ship, anchored close to shore,  strains against its mooring as unseen currents, slowly turn the vessel in the direction of its flow. The memory, buried deep in my subconscious,  of a time when I too was submerged in the essence of the ocean, before being born, fuels the fascination and calmness I feel whenever I am in the proximity of the ocean.  It has been a while since I have been here, and so mu...

On Jan Smuts avenue, nestled in the gardens of Villa d'Este, a world heritage site, right next to the Camelot Spa is one of Johannesburg's well kept secrets. The house, built in 1923 combined both Spanish and Cape Dutch styles, which, at the time, set the it apart from its neighbors.  In 1955, David Morrison, an architect, purchased the house and spent the next 26 years transforming it to a perfect replica of a Florentine Villa, complete with formal garden modeled in the same style and is filled with statues, sundials and columns.  Nestled on one side of the house, which since 2008, has been home to a day spa, is a quaint little restaurant. Its tables are neatly set, and deliberately scattered amongst the trees creating the ambiance of being in a wide open space.  The cottage like feel, to the indoor part of the restaurant, is further enhanced by the dark wooded counter that stretches almost the full length of the room.  The white of the walls are broken by a few...

It seems to me as time has gone by so quickly, and while my body feels a bit creaky, in spirit, I feel like the young man of twenty that I once was. Probably the best indicator, that I am getting older, is when I attempt to engage with the younger generation, when at times I am left completely clueless, but, at times in awe at there ideas which have not yet been tempered by experience.  And it is this attitude that the youth have to life, that encourages me, and makes me realize that anything is possible.  I suppose this is what you could term being young at heart. Make no mistake, I take joy in getting older and I believe that growing old gracefully is the key to living a fulfilling life.  The gray hair that seems to be increasing as time passes is of no concern to me.  I must admit though, that I have on occasion coloured my hair, but rather subtly to give a more "salt and pepper" look rather than the stark contrast of the almost white against black follicles....

When I first met her, I never imagined the impact she would have on my life.  Her small strong frame and plaited hair, I must admit, was quite intimidating.  As I lay on the table, with nothing but a towel over me, she proceeded to massage my body.  All the while talking, not to me, but my soul.  And slowly but surely I felt the effects spread through my entire being. Through happier times, she lifted my spirits even higher, through tough times she fanned the dying flames of my soul. Adding the fuel of love, morality and dignity until it burst forth burning brightly with a renewed energy. Turning my eyes inward, to witness my own inner beauty, and to in love with myself all over again, and to recognize the value of just being. Never once judging, or criticizing, forever guiding, forever leading helping me along from darkness to light, from despair to absolute bliss. A true gem that has found a setting in my heart.

Being on the Highveld I have heard my share of "Pofadder" jokes.  Its remoteness, its size in both area and population contribute to it being the subject of many a jest.  For me though, it has a different meaning. I remember the first time I drove to the Northern Cape, one December, like it was yesterday.  Starting the journey from Johannesburg, Gauteng, with its multitudes crammed it seems into every corner, through to Potchefstroom and Vryburg  in the North West province, with its wide spaces and grain farms stretching for miles and miles. Lush and green.  Leaving this to enter the semi desert world on the way to Upington and Pofadder in the Northern Cape. You would expect, that the landscape would gradually change, in fauna and flora, so that the semi desert would fade into existence.  However the contrast is much more stark, and the change from from lush green, to semi desert occurs in a few miles.  And a beauty which defies all reason, unfolds...