Gearing up

Knuckles are creaking. Fingers are cracking. What is this contraption in front of me. A keyboard?

OMG, who blogs these days? That's like, sooooo circa 2005.

Here goes.

After a year of bumbling my way around Swahili in Dar, Mills and I returned to Jozi.

"For good..?" Friends and family ask us, with a lilt of hopefulness.
"For now." I always reply.

Is this the epitome of commitment-phobe?
I can't even settle in my own home town.

It's kinda weird being back - it's home, but it's strange. I grew up here, but I haven't lived in Joburg for over ten years. How many locals travel via Melville when trying to get from Greenside to Illovo, doing a round-route which looks more like a drunk earthworm than a plotted path.


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But hey, much like the rest of my life decisions, I get there in the end. Usually. And after seeing quite a few things on the way - sometimes more than once and from multiple angles.

It's good to be back - discovering my old city. As soon as I can remember road names, I think I'll get on just fine.

*Interestingly, when I opened up a new tab to Google map my route home, the search engine returned all my results in German. Wonder what that was all about?