Friday, 23 February 2007
Thursday, 8 February 2007
SuperBowl Madness
On Monday morning I woke up and went for my usual 10km run (it turned into a 10k hobble, the holiday south has taken its toll…) , and about 100m down the road I met a stray tourist. Not unusual, when one thinks that tourists outnumber locals 2 to 1 on the island. Anyhow, this particular tourist was dressed in nothing more than a pair of cargo shorts (strategically hanging somewhere mid-thigh), no t-shirt, no shoes, and no clue that he was staggering down the road singing war cries to the lamp posts.
I immediately recognized him as a stray tourist. We get a number of these every weekend (although they don’t usually venture so far south. Makes me think that he must have left a bar in Georgetown in the early hours of the morning and turned left instead of right…and 4 hours on he’s still looking for his hotel), they’re easy to recognize and even easier to diagnose. They’re usually burnt (too much sun) and reeking of rum (the rumbos get them every time- the alcohol percentage in the rum here is 3 times the legal limit anywhere else in the world and then the caffeine and sugar in the coke keeps one wired for hours…The glasses of rumbo should contain a warning label: “ Caution: the contents of this drink may cause temporary insanity”). And so, as I ran past, I turned him in the general direction of GeorgeTown and sent him on his way. The last I saw of him as I turned the corner, he had made friends with the resident 3-legged dog and the 2 were trotting down the road together…
So why all the madness you may ask? Well, Sunday 4th February was Superbowl Sunday.
Yes, that means absolutely NOTHING to all us Saffers. But it means a whole lot to everyone this side of the globe and I can quite proudly say that I now know who the Chicago Bulls and Indiana Colts are. I even know what colour each team wears and that a game spans 4 hours of which 3 hours 55 minutes are pure advertising. Superbowl madness hit the Grand Cayman Islands with a vengeance this past weekend. Everywhere I looked there was another excited American tourist jumping up and down, arms flailing about, white hairy legs protruding from checked Bermuda shorts and sweat drops gathering under their plastic peaks. I don’t think even Hurricane Ivan caused so much disruption in one day!
The kick off was at 6.30pm Island time and the festivities started early with most bars and restaurants offering “Superbowl Specials”- bucket of Buds and Chicken wingers (I am concerned about the sheer number of chicken wings that are eaten on a daily basis on the island. Most specials offer them at 25c a barbecued wing, with the average Joe consuming at least 20 and with a thousand tourists visiting the island daily, that’s a lot of chicken. I fear my wings might be next…)
And so whilst Superbowl mania engulfed the tiny island, I spent the weekend holed up in the Westin Hotel, inside the Ballroom, setting up and rehearsing for my second “sizeable” job for Celebrations. Here are some photos for those of you who can not believe that I now spend my day flower arranging. Check these out…
I immediately recognized him as a stray tourist. We get a number of these every weekend (although they don’t usually venture so far south. Makes me think that he must have left a bar in Georgetown in the early hours of the morning and turned left instead of right…and 4 hours on he’s still looking for his hotel), they’re easy to recognize and even easier to diagnose. They’re usually burnt (too much sun) and reeking of rum (the rumbos get them every time- the alcohol percentage in the rum here is 3 times the legal limit anywhere else in the world and then the caffeine and sugar in the coke keeps one wired for hours…The glasses of rumbo should contain a warning label: “ Caution: the contents of this drink may cause temporary insanity”). And so, as I ran past, I turned him in the general direction of GeorgeTown and sent him on his way. The last I saw of him as I turned the corner, he had made friends with the resident 3-legged dog and the 2 were trotting down the road together…
So why all the madness you may ask? Well, Sunday 4th February was Superbowl Sunday.
Yes, that means absolutely NOTHING to all us Saffers. But it means a whole lot to everyone this side of the globe and I can quite proudly say that I now know who the Chicago Bulls and Indiana Colts are. I even know what colour each team wears and that a game spans 4 hours of which 3 hours 55 minutes are pure advertising. Superbowl madness hit the Grand Cayman Islands with a vengeance this past weekend. Everywhere I looked there was another excited American tourist jumping up and down, arms flailing about, white hairy legs protruding from checked Bermuda shorts and sweat drops gathering under their plastic peaks. I don’t think even Hurricane Ivan caused so much disruption in one day!
The kick off was at 6.30pm Island time and the festivities started early with most bars and restaurants offering “Superbowl Specials”- bucket of Buds and Chicken wingers (I am concerned about the sheer number of chicken wings that are eaten on a daily basis on the island. Most specials offer them at 25c a barbecued wing, with the average Joe consuming at least 20 and with a thousand tourists visiting the island daily, that’s a lot of chicken. I fear my wings might be next…)
And so whilst Superbowl mania engulfed the tiny island, I spent the weekend holed up in the Westin Hotel, inside the Ballroom, setting up and rehearsing for my second “sizeable” job for Celebrations. Here are some photos for those of you who can not believe that I now spend my day flower arranging. Check these out…
Saturday, 3 February 2007
Migration
After a short migration south, the Chicken has landed back on the Caribbean Isles.
Here are a few highlights of the 2-week whirlwind:
Cayman Islands to Durban via Bahamas via London via Johannesburg: 22 hours in an airplane, 15 hours of airport stopovers, one crazy bat kicking my chair for 4 hours, 80-mile winds in London causing Heathrow mayhem: 42-cancelled flights, 80-delayed flights, undisclosed technical difficulty grounding my BA plane in JHB, 2 sleeping pills. Home. (sigh).
Kloof: 3 shopping trips to Gateway (wow shopping centres, real shops with clothes that don't have shoulder pads and pleated skirts, I'm in heaven), 2 visits to Kloof Virgin Active (wow a first-world gym with real weight machines and equipment that hasn't rusted shut), many home-cooked dinners (still too few though...aaaaarggghh), whirwind visits to friends and family...
Cape Town: 1 flight on a bright orange plane named after a rather tasty fruit. 1 emergency landing and evacuation of plane. No, the excitement was not caused by a potential terrorist. Instead, this piece of mayhem was caused by a 5mm stone lodged in the Rooster's (Daddy Hoops) bladder. At 32000 feet with 20 mins flying time on the clock, the stone decided to make its move. What followed was probably my most exciting entrance to Cape Town ever. It included evacuation of passengers, paramedics and ambulances screeching along the runway, one man-down, and one ambulance trip to Vincent Palloti. And so the Rooster was confined to a hospital bed for 3 days. After the initial sympathy and shock- kidney stone pain is akin to child birth so they say...- we left the Rooster hooked up to his morphine drip (he was floating about 2m above his bed with a permanent grin on his face), and headed into a stinking hot Cape Town.
3 days of heat wave and temps into the high-40's.
1 amazing house in Bakoven.
5 trips to Cavendish (on a permanent shopping high).
2 hours lost in Mitchells Plain.
2 days on wine estate in stellenbosch.
1 beautiful and perfect wedding.
1 hangover.
1 British Airways strike. 1 day less of my vacation as a mad scramble ensued to change my flights: Cape Town to Cayman Islands via London via Miami on BA, Virgin Atlantic and American Airlines. 25 hours flying time, 8 hours stopover time in airports, 1 very disgruntled US Customs Officer, 5 movies (no sleeping pills) and I arrived in Georgetown. Aaaahhh, back to island-time. Back to perfect seas, white sand beaches, and sundowner cocktails. Back to my apartment.... oh, yes, back to my psychotic flatmate (who, it seems, shaved his head whilst i was gone and now looks like an overweight Auschwitz survivor) hmmm...
1x Homesickness.
Here are a few highlights of the 2-week whirlwind:
Cayman Islands to Durban via Bahamas via London via Johannesburg: 22 hours in an airplane, 15 hours of airport stopovers, one crazy bat kicking my chair for 4 hours, 80-mile winds in London causing Heathrow mayhem: 42-cancelled flights, 80-delayed flights, undisclosed technical difficulty grounding my BA plane in JHB, 2 sleeping pills. Home. (sigh).
Kloof: 3 shopping trips to Gateway (wow shopping centres, real shops with clothes that don't have shoulder pads and pleated skirts, I'm in heaven), 2 visits to Kloof Virgin Active (wow a first-world gym with real weight machines and equipment that hasn't rusted shut), many home-cooked dinners (still too few though...aaaaarggghh), whirwind visits to friends and family...
Cape Town: 1 flight on a bright orange plane named after a rather tasty fruit. 1 emergency landing and evacuation of plane. No, the excitement was not caused by a potential terrorist. Instead, this piece of mayhem was caused by a 5mm stone lodged in the Rooster's (Daddy Hoops) bladder. At 32000 feet with 20 mins flying time on the clock, the stone decided to make its move. What followed was probably my most exciting entrance to Cape Town ever. It included evacuation of passengers, paramedics and ambulances screeching along the runway, one man-down, and one ambulance trip to Vincent Palloti. And so the Rooster was confined to a hospital bed for 3 days. After the initial sympathy and shock- kidney stone pain is akin to child birth so they say...- we left the Rooster hooked up to his morphine drip (he was floating about 2m above his bed with a permanent grin on his face), and headed into a stinking hot Cape Town.
3 days of heat wave and temps into the high-40's.
1 amazing house in Bakoven.
5 trips to Cavendish (on a permanent shopping high).
2 hours lost in Mitchells Plain.
2 days on wine estate in stellenbosch.
1 beautiful and perfect wedding.
1 hangover.
1 British Airways strike. 1 day less of my vacation as a mad scramble ensued to change my flights: Cape Town to Cayman Islands via London via Miami on BA, Virgin Atlantic and American Airlines. 25 hours flying time, 8 hours stopover time in airports, 1 very disgruntled US Customs Officer, 5 movies (no sleeping pills) and I arrived in Georgetown. Aaaahhh, back to island-time. Back to perfect seas, white sand beaches, and sundowner cocktails. Back to my apartment.... oh, yes, back to my psychotic flatmate (who, it seems, shaved his head whilst i was gone and now looks like an overweight Auschwitz survivor) hmmm...
1x Homesickness.
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