A Tale from the Garden Route

South Africa’s Garden Route winds through the mountainous coast between Cape Town and Port Elizabeth. Excusing my French, it is fucking beautiful. It’s called the Garden Route after its discoverer, Gordon ‘Garden’ Route. That’s not true at all.

So we’ve just torn through this lovely part of the world after realising we spent approximately heaps too long in Cape Town. But that didn’t mean that we were too rushed to smell the roses. Oh, you want a story? Here’s your bloody story.

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But What the Hell is this Africa Thing Anyway?

So after a year of working from the comfort of my own couch in the comfort of my own jocks, I’ve finally decided to tog up and hit the road again. It was a big decision – will the thrill of adventure even come close to matching the thrill of never really having to put pants on? Only time will tell.

I just arrived in Africa, and for a trip that has so far consisted of an hour long drive from the airport to a house, it’s already been eventful. I’m still in the clothes that I sported on the plane and haven’t worn underwear in 24 hours, as Singapore Airlines thought that my backpack looked good enough to keep. I can’t blame them, it’s a nice backpack. But they have agreed to give me custody in the (hopefully) not too distant future.

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