Let’s get outta here

What’s better than a quick getaway?

Recently, I’d been feeling like an exposed nerve walking around, severely overwhelmed at having to do life.

This little (free) trip to Franschhoek couldn’t have come any sooner, if we’re honest.

I had my grandmother getting really sick, being quarantined and a bunch of work deadlines – so I felt on the edge of a burn out. S/o to my work for being rad with the hook-ups as I  got to check out Boschendal for an longish weekend.

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Ain’t no party like a Carolus party?

Sheer bliss ensued. I took a close friend who had truly been a rock when I was an unemployed graduate back in PE. The agenda of this vibe was very clear: just chill the fuck out. 


All we ended up doing is vegging in front of the fire – drinking gin and reading. And I can’t remember when last I’ve been that happy – just incredibly content. There’s nothing quite the feeling of not having anywhere to be, to go or things to do. My life is incredibly deadline-driven and while I didn’t switch off my phone or stop checking social, BUT I could do it from the stoep looking at the mountains like a lady of leisure.

Pro-tip: go away with someone who values quiet time, gin and being silent just as much as you. 

But as some of you know, it was also the five year anniversary of my best friend’s passing. June is always a shitty month for me since then (even though it’s my other best friend’s birthday). It’ll also be the one year anniversary of Kamo’s death in July.

Summary: triggering as all hell.

Mainly, I took time to reflect.  Grief is such an ongoing feeling. You can be okay and then just not.

I thought about how much I’ve changed since 2011 – how much my friend group shifted and how incredibly affected we all were by her death. In the midst of mourning – I got my hand tattooed (which isn’t the smartest move for your career but try telling me that at 19). I also went down a rather hectic substance fueled spiral. But enough of that.

At the time I had hoped to carry a little part of her around, since I didn’t get to say goodbye. None of us did.

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The view though.


So while, hanging out in the mountains wasn’t some corny Eat Pray Love moment for me but it definitely calmed me the fuck down. And shifted some things into perspective. In letting go of some of the fears I carry around, I’ve drop-kicked some other doors down.

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Pirates.  Grahamstown. May 2011


And I think she’d be proud, no?

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Rose garden realness




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