The flight at nine did (to everyone’s euphoric surprise) actually take off. Not only that, but it was on time as well. Charlie, Benito and I got up ridiculously early, caught the shuttle back to the airport, and reserved spots at the very front of the check-in queue.

Four hours later, I stumbled to the side, gazing at the ticket with astonished eyes. Then the laughing began. Charlie told me later that I looked as though I had won the lotto, found a golden ticket, or had simply gone crazy. Apparently he was leaning towards the latter....

Nothing else seemed to matter after that. All I wanted was to see that fasten your seatbelt sign go on. That being said, it was still pretty awesome when Benito managed to get me into the SAA lounge with him and Charlie, and we could spend the last few hours in South Africa enjoying free food, wireless internet and amazing bathrooms.

Awful photo of the view from Joburg airport

I have absolutely no idea how I managed to get so lucky: Dave, Will, Jamie, Benito, Steve and, most of all, Charlie. They all looked after me so much, I felt like a free-loader. Buying me dinner, drinks, breakfast, getting me into lounges, making sure I found my luggage, stopping me from panicking, and just generally taking care of me, they are the real reason I managed to get through it all without pulling all my hair out.

The flight, as they usually are, was long, dull and dry. There were numerous free seats scattered around: something which worked in our favour as both me and Charlie had four seats, allowing us to get some long-forgone sleep. But the frustrating part was that many people had no idea a plane was taking off that morning and were left behind in Jo’burg – poor planning on the airline’s behalf.

When we finally arrived, Charlie had to dash off to try and hire a car. He still had to make the drive all the way up to his place in Wales, and he had tried to book the previous night but all the cars had been taken. All he could do was hope that there was a cancellation.

I warily made my way to the baggage terminal, dully pondering how long it would take me to find my precious luggage. Ten minutes later, I was blinking dumbly about, sure that my eyes were playing games with me. Surely that wasn’t my dad?

It was.

Then the next bit was my worrying about Charlie. If he didn’t manage to get a car, he’d probably have to spend the night at a train station or hire a taxi (ridiculously expensive).

I was still a bit in shock, but wasn’t too out of it to not notice the fact that my parents managed to get us lost on the way to my brother’s house. It felt so good not being the one getting people lost....

And finally we arrived.

View from my brother's flat

The place, wonderful as it is, was not fully appreciated by me in my half-dazed state, but the view of the canal from the window was enough to get a delighted murmur.

Still worrying, I called Charlie, checking up on him and thanking him for allowing me to stalk him. He sounded exhausted, but happy, and had managed to get a car, was on his way, wished me a merry Christmas, tried to convince me he didn’t mind my trailing him around for four days, and made me promise to look after myself next year when I’m travelling.

By then it was getting later and I was more than ready to collapse. But still I was not allowed to rest! My delightful family dragged me out to a pub for dinner and I nearly face-planted in a bowl of sag (spinach, apparently).

I don’t remember much beyond that.....

written by  Brigid Jelsma on December 22, 2010 from Hertford, United Kingdom
from the travel blog: Walk a little further to another plan
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Since my last post, I've moved into my brother's flat, handed out at least 50 CVs, gone for a massive day hike (which ended with mud-caked feet and a guy offering to carry me to the nearest town), been to Notting Hill, Epping Forest, Camden Town, the National History Museum, a creepy deserted church in the middle of nowhere, and have volunteered at Oxfam Bookstore.

T-rex at the History Museum

Me and my hat

My boots

Me, my new hat and my brother

So, no, I haven't been lazy and I haven't died (in case you were wondering). However, I am still unemployed... which sucks. There are various places which seem interested, but nothing definite. But anyway, I've been busy buying out the Oxfam store, so it hasn't been too dull.

Hertford is smallish, but nice. There are little tiny shops which sell trinkets and there are huge supermarkets with rows of everything bad for you. The flat I'm staying in is right on a canal which runs all the way to London (if you're energetic enough to follow it that far), and I can feed the ducks from my bedroom window.

Attack of the geese!

But I've discovered just how difficult it is to keep a household running - everything from washing dishes to buying groceries and doing laundry takes up so much time!

Remnants of a raucous night

I've also begun planning my trip properly and I've actually found a few definite places to stay in Europe when I start travelling in April (with a guy in the tiny village Sens, with an ex-South African in Lagos, with a gay guy who lives next to a forest in Bordeaux and more). And (because I'm getting a bit restless after two weeks in the same spot), I'm also planning a small trip up to Wales sometime in February as a trial run for the CouchSurfing business.

However, something less awesome happened to me the other day on my day hike. I went alone, which was a mistake. About 7 hours of alone-time with me and my thoughts. Everything began to sink in.

I'm not going home for a while. A long while.

I miss my friends, my kitten, my other brother and my parents (yes, you too).

My kitten

Now minus the dancing and singing bit, I haven't had enough drinks for that.

But, yes, after that ridiculous start to this post, I will proceed to tell you just why things are looking up. (Don't you hate inane statements like that one?)

Firstly, the sun has been shining! For me this has never been a thing to gape in awe at, but the UK has stripped me of the ability to be nonchalant about such wonders. Secondly, I have a job. An actual, paying, slaving away for scraps and having to smile sweetly at annoying customers when really all you want to do is throw soup in their face and start a food fight, job.

Yeah... so maybe waitressing isn't really the best job for me... but anyway, I'll see how it goes. Tomorrow is my first day - a bit of a trial run to see how I work - so I will be on my best behaviour and I will refrain from throwing food around.

It'll be tough....

Oooh, and another awesome thing that's happened in my awesome life: I've actually met some people. Amazing, huh? Real people.

Two handsome young guys... Paul and Neil were their names. Too bad they turned out to be complete psychos.

They were terrible! I hated every second of it. I just laughed to pretend I was having a good time while actually I was trying to think up excuses to escape. :D

Honestly though, it was really cool. We met up at the Old Barge, a local pub just around the corner from where I'm staying, and we had a few drinks. Paul is an experienced CouchSurfer, so he gave me some tips and, in exchange, I made him envious of my planned travels. It was quite a fair trade, in my opinion. And, seriously, those two guys better meet up with me again, if only to mock me about my hat.

So, a very successful day indeed. I just hope this 'bright side of life' will linger on at least until the end of my shift tomorrow night. As a newbie waitress I need all the luck I can get!

written by  Brigid Jelsma on January 19, 2011 from Hertford, United Kingdom
from the travel blog: Walk a little further to another plan
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What happened to the upperclass Lussmanns job? Well... let's just say the accumulation of stress, training period (without pay, I'll have you know) and posh customers kind of put me off it. [I think my exact words to Joe were: 'just want to curl up into a ball and hide away from the world for a while'. Okay, so maybe I am a bit of a wuss.

But still, the two weeks training without pay is enough of a legitimate reason to get away with it.

So, yes. Domino's Pizza Hertford has a new pizza girl. And a few incorrect orders here and there... well, mistakes happen. There are some pretty cool people there as well.

However, tonight I was unfortunate enough to be working at the desk (with a blasted nametag) when a bunch of drunken guys came in to order pizza.... It ended up with them calling my name every five seconds and, when they finally left, one of the idiots WINKED and said, "You have my number, don't you, darling?" *SIGH* But Matt assures me that drunks only really come in over weekends. Great. I only work weekends....

Apart from that, not much has happened. My social life is still pretty much non-existant, but I do have plans to meet a few Couch Surfers this week: one guy who's staying in London and another girl who is living near Hertford.

Ooooh, and last night (I just realised the reason for my exhaustion) was Malcolm's belated surprise birthday party. That was quite awesome. His boyfriend, Blue, organised it all, and it was even more awesome because a lot of my favourite people were there.

At the moment I have the place to myself. Joe and Andy are off on a romantic weekend away (or something sappy like that), and will only be back on Monday, so, yup, the house is currently a perfect imitation of my room and I'm sleeping on the couch tonight.

And, another boring, yet necessary update: I'm going to Amsterdam on the 4th of February to meet up with my mom (I'm barely away from home for a month and already she's making up conferences in random European countries), flying from Amsterdam to Manchester on the 7th, catching a train to Llanfairpwll (try pronouncing that!) in Wales and Couch Surfing with a guy there for two nights, then moving on to stay with a woman in Bangor for one night, and then heading back to Hertford on the 10th.

Wow, okay, now if anyone is still awake after this ridiculously dull update, I just wanted to say that despite how wonderful everyone here is, Cape Town is still often on my mind. I can't help but think how amazing it would be to have my best friends here and to be able to explore London and the rest of the UK with them.

Finally, I'll end this off with something slightly more entertaining:

I love this guy

'Let's go to the pub!' 'Do you want a drink?' 'Ooh, try this one.'

I've even had beer. BEER. (Although it wasn't quite as awful as I expected.) But anyway, things have been really fun.

Couch Surfing is now my religion. I am half-tempted to build a shrine and start worshiping the creator. Honestly, I've gone out pretty much every single day this week thanks to Couch Surfing.

This is what I've done (i.e. stop reading because these are just updates so my future self can remember what I did with my youth).

On Monday I met up with Zohaib, a really sweet guy who's staying in London, and we went to Tate Modern. It was so fun trying to figure out the artworks and getting to know each other, and afterwards we went for coffee. We found out that we're both in similar situations, being new in the UK and being away from friends and family. I'm hoping to see him next week.

Tuesday, I met up with Beth, a Couch Surfer who lives near Hertford. She was wonderful, and it was great to meet someone who has actually been to South Africa. I loved chatting to her while having coffee and apple tart. Next week we're going to watch the King's Speech, and I'm really looking forward to it.

Then Tuesday evening I headed over to Broxbourne to meet up with Paul and a bunch of his friends for a few drinks. They were all pretty awesome (in crazy ways), and I loved meeting them. But I must remember to take my ID everywhere to prevent future annoying bartenders from taking away my drink. Joe actually joined us for a short while towards the end (big brother checking out the strange men I'm hanging out with, luckily he hasn't killed any of them - yet).

Wednesday, I met up with Rob for drinks at the Barge, and ended up chatting for over six hours (taking a short interval to grab some supper) about the most random topics. Most of the time was spent with him making fun of me, while I called him a Brit and made him speak in a Scottish accent. It was really fun and we have so much in common, it has to be the Leo thing (his birthday is two days after mine). But he is so distracting to my train of thought, it's terrible!

Thursday (yesterday), I spent the afternoon at Paul's place watching Flight of the Concords on his awesome projector screen. He has quite a few movies/series and all of the ones I recognised are ones I love, so he's got pretty good taste! Then we met up with Andy who lifted me back in time for my shift at Domino's, and then (as if I hadn't seen enough of them) after my shift they picked me up and we went to Andy's place to watch movies on his massive 3D TV. I've already asked and I'll be moving in there soon. Me, the couch, the stack of DVDs, what more do I need? Anyway, I eventually got a call from Joe at 3 in the morning: 'Where are you? Are you okay? Can you get me ear buds?' Yes, my brother really did ask me to ask a guy I'd just met for ear buds at 3 in the morning.

And today, I've done absolutely nothing. I went through the whole trying to open a bank account thing again, but the proof of address I had wasn't proof enough. But one good thing did happen, the national insurance people (people who basically steal your money as 'tax') called, and I have a meeting with them on Monday, so hopefully I'll get everything sorted and I'll actually be able to get paid!

written by  Brigid Jelsma on January 28, 2011 from Hertford, United Kingdom
from the travel blog: Walk a little further to another plan
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How on earth does anyone know what they want to do for the rest of their life? Honestly, I don't even have a clue what I want to do next week. I don't even know what I want to do tomorrow either!

Many of my friends are starting their university courses now. I admire them so much for it. Making decisions has never been one of my strong points (just ask Paul, I nearly missed a train because I was standing in Tesco trying to decide what to get us), and making a decision that would lay out the path for the rest of my life is just ridiculous.

I'm young; I don't know enough about the world; I don't know enough, period. These are things I am not afraid to admit, because they are true. I love animals; I love people; I love time on my own occasionally; I love writing; I love helping; I love being challenged; I love debating; I love learning more about random things; I love being lazy and watching movies; I love seeing the world and travelling. All of these things define me. And, yet, none of them do.

I love so many things and there are so many things I haven't experienced yet.

Medicine? Psychology? English? Which major will I choose? Which minors? Do I want to choose a set course and come out of it with a defined career, or do I want to mix and match everything I'm interested in and end up with a jumble of random qualifications?

Do I go for money and the security that a stable life would bring? Do I go for the fun, exciting, interesting route? Is it possible to have both?

Do I actually want to go into these courses or am I just doing it out of the loyalty I have to my parents and the life they want me to lead?

Are these courses the ones I really want to do or are they just the few that seem to best suit what I'm supposed to be looking for?

I honestly do not know. Does anyone know or do they just end up getting caught in the whiptide until one day they wake up to find that they're stuck in a long-houred job doing something they have no interest in, but can't quit because there's rent that needs to be paid and the milk's run out again?

i don't want to grow up. I know that I'm too innocent and naive for my own damn good, but I'd rather be like this than be a cynical, pessimistic person who hates her life but does nothing to change it.

Maybe I'm talking rubbish. I probably am, it's half past midnight.

Anyway, after that random train of thought, back to choosing courses when you're eighteen. I admire my friends so much for being brave enough to choose what they want to do. I'm too scared of making a mistake. I'm just hoping that during this year I'll be exposed to enough of what is out there to actually make a decision.

written by  Brigid Jelsma on January 29, 2011 from Hertford, United Kingdom
from the travel blog: Walk a little further to another plan
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Sacrificing a night of leisure and films, we were determined. Failure was not an option.

It was a bitterly cold and cruel night, the wind howled and the trees towered menacingly overhead, but fearlessly we toiled on!

And, on the wondrous gadget, our red dot slowly crept closer to the blue dot - the treasure trove! Victory awaited, we could feel it as surely as we could the icy cold. And as we rounded the final corner, excitement raced through us. Our blood pumped and adrenaline raced, and we knew, yes, we knew that this was what we were born to do. This, this seemingly insignificant event, it would determine the fate of mankind.

'1 metre', the gadget said. We took that final step and came to a standstill.

Three trees. One ditch. One torch. One prize.

The treasure was so close, so very close. Just beyond our grasp. Just out of eyesight. Just a few too many bugs.

Our hearts sank.

How could this be? To come all this way and return as failures? Never!

I held the torch. Joe dug. I took photos. Joe rooted around the foliage. I made up excuses to deter passers by ('What time did she say she'd meet us?'). Joe scrounged through the patches of litter. I gave helpful advice. Joe uprooted twigs. I pointed at likely spots. Joe checked the likely spots.

Our team effort was golden!

Finally!! A grin spread across Joe's lips. His hand raised triumphantly. At last, the treasure was ours!

Proudly we added our names to the list of brave explorers. Proudly we returned the cache to its hiding spot. Proudly we hoisted our pants up and headed for the road. Proudly we bumped fists.

And so concluded our Geo-caching adventure (proudly).

:)

written by  Brigid Jelsma on February 1, 2011 from Hertford, United Kingdom
from the travel blog: Walk a little further to another plan
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This book will contain the warped babble that spews forth from my brain. And, hopefully, it will stop me from saying my nonsense out loud, but I'm afraid I'm not that optimistic. I tend to move through life in a constant state of confusion. I confuse myself. I confuse everyone. I even have arguments in my own head.

I'm just going to do the boring thing and give you some background to all this. I am eighteen. I have a kitten, wonderful parents, and two older brothers who I simultaneously adore and blame for everything in my life. At the moment I am on a gap year. I tell everyone the year off is for me to 'figure out where I want to go with my life', but in reality I think it's just my being too lazy to go straight to university. Then again, even that point I'm not too sure on, because I do actually have to figure out what I'm going to spend the rest of my miserable life doing. So maybe I'm not lazy?

Anyway, most of my friends are back in Cape Town beginning the courses that will lead to jobs and stable lives and then marriages, mortgages, children, pensions and DEATH. Maybe I'm delaying the inevitable by running away? Or maybe I just have a depressing outlook on the lives of the responsible?

I started 'planning' my gap year when I was in grade ten. But that just consisted of bold talk and squiggles drawn over maps of the world. 'Yeah, so I'm going there and there and, ooooh, yeah, I HAVE to go there.' It's still just bold talk and squiggles, but, oh jesus, I'm actually in the middle of a squiggle!

See, thanks to all my shit talking to pretty much everyone, I somehow got myself trapped into this 'massive trip where I'm going to see EVERYTHING'. I told too many people. I'm too stubborn. I'm experiencing too much fun and terror to chicken out now.

The plan, devised while meant to be studying for my final geography exam, has unfortunately been pretty successful. Joe, the eldest of my two big brothers, has been working as a vet in the UK for a while. So, abandoning my kitten, parents, one brother and all my friends, I left South Africa and moved to the grey northern part of the world, supposedly to earn money for when I begin travelling the rest of Europe.

I've been working at Domino's Pizza ever since.... The End.

written by  Brigid Jelsma on February 21, 2011 from Hertford, United Kingdom
from the travel blog: Walk a little further to another plan
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I can barely go five minutes without getting excited about it. Everyone around me is getting sick of my constant 'CouchSurfing, so amazing, staying here and here and there and travelling with this guy and meeting them there and have to see this and that and, have I mentioned how amazing CouchSurfing is???'

To be honest, I'm surprised my brother hasn't strangled me. I am a bit obsessed. But can you blame me?

Anyway, the start of my 'massive trip where I'm going to see EVERYTHING' is Dublin. 31st of March. At the moment I'm still bouncing ideas around, but it looks as though I'm going to be travelling through Ireland either with three other people or with a guy called Mark.

I'm kind of leaning toward travelling with Mark as finding CouchSurfing hosts willing to put up four people will be a bit tough.

My plan is to spend a few days in Dublin (maybe hit the music scene), then head South through Kildare, Kilkenny and down to Cork, explore the coastal region for a bit and then make my way up to Shannon in time for my flight to France (Nantes) on the 14th of April.

Two weeks isn't really long enough to discover Ireland, but it'll have to do.

And then, my French adventure shall begin! A few days in Nantes, and then I'll make my way down to Tarbes to spend two weeks with my WorkAway hosts in the Pyrenees Mountains.

Could I be more lucky? Or happy? Maybe if my best friends were here with me, but other than that....

:D

As I stepped out of the building, Andy's warning rang fresh in my mind, but I thought, "Pffft, I come from South Africa. I can handle ANYTHING.' Not, and I make this clear, that South Africa is a terribly dangerous place, because on the whole it really isn't, but compared to Hertford where a bit of graffiti gets into the tabloids... well....

I put my hood up and hunched up my shoulders, did my best to send out a 'don't mess with me' vibe and began my adventure.

It was lovely. The wind was brisk and the air was fresh. Reflections in the canal were disturbed only by the occasional duck settling down for the night, and all I could hear was the 'shhht, shht, shht' of my jacket as I walked.

Then it occurred to me that I wouldn't be able to hear someone approaching from behind....

I glanced back. The path was clear. I continued walking.

Or was it? I glanced back again. What was that shadow at the corner there? I walked faster.

Oh, shit, I nearly walked into someone! (And that poor old lady will probably get back home and tell her husband about the crazy dark figure that nearly trampled her.)

Berating myself, I continued along my way, determined to make it to my favourite spot in the marshes. It was no longer about getting some fresh air. It was now KILL OR BE KILLED. Nah, it was just my being too stubborn to go home.

Once I stepped out onto the open plains of King's Meads, I began to relax. The sky was a burnt pink. In the distance I could hear the faint drone of distant highways. Across the marshes I could see the warm glow of houses. Ahead of me, I could see tiny dark patches hopping around as bunnies scampered out of sight.

It felt lonely. Lonely in the way one must feel standing alone at the top of a mountain, gazing down at the world. It was beautiful.

Feeling emotional, I settled down on the mound and closed my eyes for a few moments. It was so peaceful. The air was so pure. No one around for miles.

A thought popped into my head: 'what if I'm not alone?'

I glanced around me, eyes skirting the perimeter, falling on an unidentifiable dark-spot. It moved. Jerking upright, I stared it down. It moved again.... My heart thudded. I crept closer.

A bird took flight from the bush I'd been staring at....

Feeling stupid, I took another quick look around me and then settled back down.

Harsh breathing came from somewhere to my far left. I held my ground; I wasn't going to be a chicken again. It didn't stop.

I began backing away. I could see the silhouette of something that didn't fit in with the trees or shrubs. I grabbed my bag.

It was then that my mind decided to remind me that I'd crossed a lit up area as I came into the King's Meads, so anyone already there would have seen me approaching....

That thought had me stumbling back along my route as fast as possible. Every dark figure was menacing. Every time I looked behind me there was a dark figure following me.

I got back onto the proper path and nearly fell into the canal when a branch brushed my arm. The path was lit, but only for about 20 metres. Beyond that I had to pass under a bridge.... There was a smear of water across the path (as though something had been dragged?).

Then there was a man holding a knife that turned into a tree.

A torso of a dismembered women that turned into an assortment of flower pots.

A face in the water that turned into a duck's bottom.

I felt stupid.

And then the hoarse breathing started up again... louder.

My panic rose....

The breathing came closer, closer, closer. The water in the canal began lapping against the side. I spun around.....

And saw a barge approaching.

The big, scary, hoarsely-breathing monster passed me by and I felt more stupid than ever.

But still, there definitely was a dark figure following me. I could see it just where the light lit up the pathway.

I got past the Old Barge, crossed the bridge and rounded the corner, looking back on the path I'd just come along....

The dark figure behind me turned into a young woman walking her dog....

What a night. I'm exhausted!

written by  Brigid Jelsma on March 14, 2011 from Hertford, United Kingdom
from the travel blog: Walk a little further to another plan
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