Coming into Knysna:
Oh what chaos I have endured. Before I ramble off in powerful euphemisms, let me start from a more palatable point in the story.
In Knysna I am staying with an old friend of mine. She runs Rape Outcry; with whom I have been a member for many years. She does amazing work, and just got accepted to do a Masters' program in Clinical Psychology. I am very proud of her, she truly deserves it. The thing is though, her place is just out of Knysna. Unless you know where you are going it can be a bit tricky to find, as I discovered the hard way. After five U-turns, and four attempted gravel roads leading to increasing obscurity, something horrific happened. My car got stuck in the mud that resulted from the week-long rain. The sun was setting and all I could do was run to the golf estate, find a house that had a bakkie parked in the driveway, put on a face of saddened trustworthiness; and ask if they would be kind enough to give me a tow. Fortunately I had all the rope required. You always need rope, lots of it. Never go anywhere without it.
Luckily the people at the first door I knocked on were kind enough to help me. The gentleman (a quantity surveyor with a wife and two young kids) asked me enough questions to ascertain that I was not planning an elaborate heist. It ranged from where I lived to what I studied. Lo and behold he had gone to the same university as I.
The first two attempts to pull my car from the sludge resulted in a snapped tow rope. Eventually I took a second length of rope and used it to reinforce the other; and to my great relief I was free -- albeit rather muddy. I thanked him for all his trouble and forced myself not to jump into the driver's seat and hug him in an overtly manly gesture of Bro-Love.
Eventually I found my friend's place, and my goodness un-gracious me; it was picturesque to the point of silliness. A little log-cabin in the middle of a farm/forest which runs on gas and solar-power. It's enough to make any eco-Nazi shudder with glee. After such an ordeal I hear the fluorescent beckoning of the bar. So it was off to see what happened in Knysna when the sun went down.
Oh what chaos I have endured. Before I ramble off in powerful euphemisms, let me start from a more palatable point in the story.
In Knysna I am staying with an old friend of mine. She runs Rape Outcry; with whom I have been a member for many years. She does amazing work, and just got accepted to do a Masters' program in Clinical Psychology. I am very proud of her, she truly deserves it. The thing is though, her place is just out of Knysna. Unless you know where you are going it can be a bit tricky to find, as I discovered the hard way. After five U-turns, and four attempted gravel roads leading to increasing obscurity, something horrific happened. My car got stuck in the mud that resulted from the week-long rain. The sun was setting and all I could do was run to the golf estate, find a house that had a bakkie parked in the driveway, put on a face of saddened trustworthiness; and ask if they would be kind enough to give me a tow. Fortunately I had all the rope required. You always need rope, lots of it. Never go anywhere without it.
Luckily the people at the first door I knocked on were kind enough to help me. The gentleman (a quantity surveyor with a wife and two young kids) asked me enough questions to ascertain that I was not planning an elaborate heist. It ranged from where I lived to what I studied. Lo and behold he had gone to the same university as I.
The first two attempts to pull my car from the sludge resulted in a snapped tow rope. Eventually I took a second length of rope and used it to reinforce the other; and to my great relief I was free -- albeit rather muddy. I thanked him for all his trouble and forced myself not to jump into the driver's seat and hug him in an overtly manly gesture of Bro-Love.
Eventually I found my friend's place, and my goodness un-gracious me; it was picturesque to the point of silliness. A little log-cabin in the middle of a farm/forest which runs on gas and solar-power. It's enough to make any eco-Nazi shudder with glee. After such an ordeal I hear the fluorescent beckoning of the bar. So it was off to see what happened in Knysna when the sun went down.
