Marion Erskine's Blog, page 2

A Decade Away ... Day 25 - 29

We're coming closer to my first decade away from home. On June 18 I would be celebrating a decade abroad. I have so many memories and I'm just reflecting on a few of them that shaped me as the person I am today.

#29 - A healing Vietnam


A lady selling flowers in Hoi An, VietnamAs a child growing up, we were bombarded with visuals on the Vietnam war and we all saw horrific pictures and movies about this country. I needed to wipe those images from my head and replace them with visuals where Vietnam became pretty and positive again. This country was one of my favourites to visit as it's almost timeless. In so many places you walk, you don't see electricity, you don't see big signage.  Just rice paddies, ladies on boats, sunsets.

I found this lady in Hoi An. She was selling flowers for their Têt festival. Look at how she's sitting. This is very common all over Vietnam and many people prefer this position. I could for the life of me not do that for longer than 5 minutes. I wanted to see a healing Nam, and I did just that.




#28 - I had to say goodbye


My Ouma LenaIn reflecting on the past, not all memories are happy ones. I lost my gran while I was in Taiwan. Ouma Lena was one of the most important people in my life and she always had a soft spot for all her grandchildren. When that phone rang and I was more than 11,000 km from home, I knew it was bad news. The last time I saw her, she was in tears and told me that I won't see her again. I laughed it off and said: "Oumie, we still need you and God knows that."  God however did have other plans and he took the pain away a few months later.


Ouma Lena taught me one very important lesson in this journey. I don't have the privilege to see my family and loved ones every day, and therefore I make the best of it when I do. Living with hatred and anger and jealousy only makes one more bitter. I believe she's watching over me and I know I'll see her again one day.  I miss you, Oumie.  :`(




#27 - I gained a goddaughter


Bella and me in 2006 Bella todayIt was one of the biggest honours ever when Morrie - a colleague of mine - asked me if I would be the godfather of her new little baby. We chose the English name Bella which means beautiful and I loved her from the very first day. Bella is such a sweety and she always had enough smiles to go around.


Today she's a big girl and I miss her and her family so much. Bella even featured in my first book, Afro-dizzy-act. Here is a picture of her as she looks now. Look how precious she is. Do I have rights as a godfather to boast about her?  I'm sure I do.






#26 - I became a huge fan of themed parties


Somebody call the Fashion PoliceBirthdays were mostly just birthdays for me growing up. I had my last real birthday party when I was 12 and nothing much after that. For the 28th birthday, I decided to do a theme party. The theme was 'Somebody Call the Fashion Police'.

My friends didn't disappoint and man did we look like walking Milan disasters. So much so that the Taiwanese commented on how great we looked!  :)  One of the best birthdays of my life.


#25 - I started a brand
Pie*Say started as a single shirt

Two things. I was not impressed with the types of touristy T-shirts Taiwan had available and I always laughed at the funny English T-shirts you found over there. Because many Taiwanese couldn't read/understand the English, the shirts made no sense.  My first shirt was the black one on the right hand side of the photo.  It had cool Chinese characters which read:  "Although I'm pretty smart, I'm still TOO stupid to read my own shirt."


It was an instant hit with locals and foreigners alike. I saw the gap in the market and made these babies in my free time with the help of one of my best friends, Sean.  PIE*SAY - which means 'excuse me' in Taiwanese - stopped when I left for the UAE, but at least I can boast that I helped clothed a few foreigners and their families for a while.

A Decade Away ... Day 30 - 35

The countdown continues to memorable moments in my life in the last 10 years.

#35 - A reason to wake up for


Many people hate their jobs. They can't wait for the clock to announce that the day is finally over. These little ones enriched my ways in more than you can imagine. They're smiles and free hugs every day was what kept me going through difficult days in Taiwan.

We learned some 'shopping' vocab and decided to take them out for a walk around the supermarket on this day. We had loads of fun and named as many English words as we could. I was one proud teacher that day as parents walking around complimented them on their great English.


#34 - Those warm welcomes


After more than I year in the Far East, I finally got the chance to go home to my family. If you've seen 'Love Actually', you'll know that there is one place in the world where everyone seems happy: The arrivals area at any airport.  Seeing my name in colour and the friendly familiar faces of the people I care about most is a highlight I can't describe.

Many of you don't know my brother as he doesn't like attention as much as me. It's him in the back, left.

Here is the scene from LOVE ACTUALLY I'm referring to:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wDZUfGBUSeY

#33 - I got to see


Joyce and I after my eye surgery.
One of the biggest gifts I could ever give to myself, was the gift of sight. My eyes deteriorated at a fast pace and it was impossible for me to see without glasses or contacts. One morning I woke up and was late for work. I couldn't find my glasses anywhere. I called my housemate and begged her to help me look for them.
"They're lying over there," she said pointing to a book next to me.
"No, that's a book," I replied.
"They're on the book you dummy!" she laughed.
That was the last straw.  Indeed the glasses were on the book, but because my sight was so bad, I couldn't see them there as they were the same colours.  I picked up a phone that Thursday, phoned for Lasik eye surgery and the Saturday I could see again! By far one the best choices I've ever made.  Thank goodness to technology they could even cure my astigmatism  which was incurable one year before that.


#32 - Got to see heaven


At Carp Island, Palau

I've had the opportunity to see 57 countries so far and if you asked me which one was the most beautiful one, I'd have to choose Palau. There is just nothing like it. You see greens and blues here that you didn't think was possible to be part of nature's fusion.

In 2005 - after watching a season of Survivor: Palau - I told my best friend Joyce that I wanted to see this magical place. We planned and went. I had the opportunity to swim with stingless jellyfish here and dolphins as well. Palau is magical in every way possible and the people were also incredibly nice.


#31 - Moms visiting




It's great going home after a year of work in a foreign country. What is even greater is when your family gets to come visit you and see how you live every day. In 2005 my mom and her good friend Lynn came to visit me in Tainan. We had such a blast. They drove on scooters, climbed salt mountains and experienced all the culture shocks first hand.

Lynn still talks about this holiday as being one of her favourites and I can totally understand why. We laughed so much and did so much. Here they went with us to a Thai retaurant. Learned very well how to greet in Thai.


#30 - Coping with nature

A typhoon approaching TaiwanWhen living abroad, there is more than a new culture one has to get used to. You have to understand that nature also plays a big part of your new environment. Typhoons are very common in the Pacific Ocean and slams into the Philippines, Taiwan, Korea and Japan all through the summer months. With gust winds of up to 200km/h... I personally saw a wheelbarrow fly once. It's absolutely nuts.

Typhoons can be predicted though and you can prepare yourself for one of these babies. What I wasn't prepared for (and never will be) were the earthquakes.  I've had more than a few scary experiences with those. Being South African, we don't have much more than the occasional flood. This is as far as our natural disasters go.

A Decade Away... the countdown begins.

My feet left African ground in the year 2000. I traveled to the USA and worked on the world's largest cruise ship at that time, The Voyager of the Seas. The adventure was short lived though and only lasted for 6 months. The seed however was planted. I wanted to travel. I needed to travel.  I tried teaching back in South Africa for another year, but my heart was telling me that I had to spread my wings and fly.  And I did.

On 18 June 2002, I left South Africa and started my new life abroad. The island of Taiwan was my first stop and a new life and adventure started. I've had many moments that shaped me into the person I am today. Many of these were quite bitter, but by being forced out of my comfort zone, I learned that I'm able to handle much more than I would have ever imagined. I'd like to share some of the special moments over the next 40 days as I count down my first ten years away from home.

St. Augustine once said:  "The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page." I can't agree more. I am a better person today, because I made a choice one day, to get on a plane and allow other people in the world to make me a better man.

#40 - A fresh start in a foreign place


With Mariana in Pingtung city, Taiwan. My first week there.
I worked with Mariana in South Africa and I remember the day as if it was yesterday. We sat on her couch at home and discussed the possibility of teaching in Taiwan. Mariana turned to me, held out her hand and said "Let's do it." I looked her in the eyes and responded: "No turning back now." A few months later both of us found ourselves in the Far East. Taiwan was as different as one can imagine, especially for someone who grew up in a small town as I did.  In my first week I had to learn how to drive a scooter, drive on the 'other' side of the road and to get used to millions of people around me. In those days, not a single English street name existed which resulted in being lost more than found. You learn quickly that "I'm at the 7/11" doesn't help your friends locate you. How was I supposed to know they were on every corner of every road. This place was foreign. The hard language, the strange culture. Little did I know that soon I'd be calling Taiwan my second home.

Letter to Santa

Dear Santa,
Nils HolgerssonYou should know me by nowas I've known you for the last 35 years. I'm writing to tell youthat I will finally be able to meet you this Christmas as I'm coming toLapland.  I was a young boy when I firstheard about Lapland. Nils Holgersson and the wild geese filled the TV screenand I hoped that one day I would have the same opportunity as him. In 2009 one of my best friends told me about their experience in Finland, and I knew that this is the place I needed to see for myself. So, I'll be landing in Rovaniemi, Lapland on December 23rd.  
In 1983 something reallystrange happened in Johannesburg. I was six years old and it was snowingoutside.  Well, if you can call acentimetre of white fluff lying patches here and there on the lawn snow, thenyes, it did indeed snow. I remember going to Grandpa's farm and attempting tobuild my own snowman, but it didn't look anything like the brilliant creatures I'veseen on TV. It couldn't have been higher than two soccer balls.
It was only in 2006 whenI visited New Zealand that I actually saw snow flakes falling for the firsttime in my life. Again, it wasn't thick, but it was there. Small, perfectlittle flakes landed on my tongue. I was so happy. (The Canadians on the tripthought I turned mental.)
So Santa, what I'm tryingto say is that I've never seen proper snow. Enough to make snowballs for a snowfight. A winter wonderland. And being from the Southern Hemisphere, I've alwayswanted to see a White Christmas. Don't get me wrong, Santa. We love our warmChristmases next to the pool with wonderful weather, but deep down, all of uswant to know how it feels to wake up to a real pine trees covered in icing sugar-like snow. We all want to hold a cup of warm hot chocolate whilecarols are playing in the background. 
I don't know where lifewill be heading after this year, Santa. My project in the Middle East is comingto an end. I don't know if I'll have the opportunity to ever see Lapland againin my life, and this is why I'm grabbing this opportunity.  I will be visiting a few countries and seeand do as much as possible. Sweden, Finland, Germany, Austria, Liechtenstein,Italy and Switzerland… here I come.
My Christmas wish thisyear is just to achieve a few more things on my Bucket List that I hope to seein this lifetime.  If you could pull anystrings (especially with number 1), I'd appreciate it.

Bucket List for Europe:
1.  See the Aurora Borealis or theNorthern Lights. (The no 1 thing on my Bucket List)










2.  Have a White Christmas











3.  See a real reindeer
4.  Going ice fishing










5.  Go snow mobiling
6.  Build a proper snowman
7.  Have a snow fight
8.  Make a snow angel
9.  Enjoy a Swedish/Finnish Saunawhilst freezing outside
10.  Eat Eisbein in Germany
11. Visit Liechtenstein
12. Take the Bernina Express throughthe Swiss Alps











13.  Watch the sunset in Florence










14.  See the tower of Pisa
15.  See the Materhorn in Switzerland
16.  A picture with a Saint Bernard inSwitzerland










17.  Have cheese fondue in the Swissmountains
18.  Visit spectacular Interlaken


S







I'm sure I'll be adding to thislist as soon as I know of which other crazy things I can get up to.So Santa, it's time that you and Imeet face to face. I've been wanting to for so long. I do want to believe inyou again.
Yours truly,Marion.

Africa Itinerary

Soon I'd be visiting my 50th country on my way back to South Africa.  I have more than a 100 people from all over the world now who will toast me on the 30th of July 2011 as I enter Malawi, my 50th country visited. This is the planned itinerary:
Country #48: Kenya.Country #49: Tanzania.Country #50: Malawi.Country #51: Zambia.
DAYS 1 - 8, Masai Mara, Serengeti Plains
From Nairobi we cross the Great Rift Valley and enter the Masai Mara Game Reserve, Kenya's premier safari destination. Our camp beside the park gives us perfect access to afternoon and morning game drives in pursuit of the 'Big Five' and other fantastic wildlife. Situated in the heart of Masailand, we may also see Masai villages and red-robed Masai herdsmen in and around the reserve. From the 'Mara', we briefly head back to Nairobi before crossing the border into Tanzania, to arrive in Arusha. Make local friends on a fascinating guided walk to a local Masai village and visit the Meserani Snake Park! We transfer to 4x4 vehicles for a 3-day excursion to the Serengeti National Park, Olduvai Gorge and the Ngorongoro Crater. Drink in the views of the crater floor from the top of its high walls, listen to the sounds of the African bush as we camp in the Serengeti and revel in the amazing animals we see on morning and afternoon game drives in these world-class conservation areas. Here I'll also fly a hot air balloon over the Serengeti. A dream of mine for many many years.

DAYS 9 - 14, Zanzibar, Dar es Salaam, Malawi
We rejoin our truck in Arusha and drive in the shadow of Mt. Kilimanjaro, across vast tracts of savannah to the port city of Dar es Salaam. A ferry transports us to Zanzibar to explore tone Town's intriguing alleyways and spice markets, ancient architecture and fabulous seafood.  Beautiful Zanzibar

Meanwhile on the northern beaches white sands, leaning palms and coral-filled waters offer perfect east coast relaxation. Back on the mainland, we leave the coast and drive via Mikumi National Park into Malawi.

Malawi is also known as 'the warm heart of Africa'DAYS 15 - 21, Lake Malawi, Lusaka, LivingstoneMalawi is one of the friendliest countries on tour and home to the third-largest fresh water lake on the continent with over 600 different species of endemic fish. We follow the shore of Lake Malawi and stop at beachside camps along the way. At Kande Beach try scuba diving, snorkelling, sailing and horseback riding. We also take part in a guided village walk. Leaving the lake we enter Zambia, and stop near its capital, Lusaka.

DAYS 22 - 24, Victoria Falls, Livingstone
Livingstone, close to Victoria Falls, is our base for the next few days. This is Africa's adrenaline capital - try white water rafting, jetboating, gorge-swinging, canoeing or even bungy jumping! Alternatively, enjoy elephant back and walking safaris, or simply relax at our riverside campsite. We view the thunderous Victoria Falls from Mosi-Oa-Tunya ('Smoke That Thunders') National Park and then have time in Livingstone at our leisure. I'll see Vic Falls for my first time ever too!

More detailed where and when:
Day 1 Depart Nairobi, Great Rift Valley, Masai Mara Game, Reserve, Afternoon game drive Day 2 Masai Mara Game Reserve, Morning / afternoon game drive Day 3 Masai Mara Game Reserve, Nairobi Day 4 Tanzania border crossing, Arusha, Day 5 Arusha, Meserani Snake Park, Masai Village Walk Day 6 Olduvai Gorge, Serengeti National Park, Afternoon game drive Day 7 Serengeti NP morning game drive, Ngorongoro Crater Day 8 Ngorongoro Crater morning game drive, Arusha Day 9 Dar es Salaam Day 10 Zanzibar Ferry Days 11 - 12 ZanzibarDay 13 Ferry Dar es Salaam Day 14 Dar es Salaam / Baobab Valley, Mikumi National Park Southern Tanzanian Highlands Day 15 Boabab Valley / Iringa Day 16 Lake Malawi, Chitimba Day 17 Chitimba / Kande Beach Day 18 Kande Beach, Village walk Day 19 Livingstonia Beach/Lilongwe Day 20 Zambia Border crossing, Chipata Day 21 Lusaka Day 22 Waterfront, Livingstone Day 23 Waterfront, Livingstone, Victoria Falls visit Day 24 Waterfront, Livingstone 

Kan 'n mens huil vir iemand wat jy nog nooit ontmoet het nie?

Soveel dae het mense al vir my gesê dat ek verslaaf is aan Facebook en dat ek soveel tyd daar spandeer. Wat hierdie mense nie besef nie, is dat daar 'n ander 'familie' aan daardie kant van die kuberkabels sit wat my daagliks aanmoedig, saam met my lag, saam met my hartseer is en wat saam met my huil vanaand. My liewe vriendin Christa Jonker-Jordaan het 18 Mei 2011 opgestaan en haar gereed gemaak vir die reis van Bloemfontein na George. Min het sy geweet dat sy nooit die sonsondergang weer sou sien nie. Sy is in 'n motor-ongeluk oorlede oppad George toe.

Christa se laaste FB status het die vorige aand gelees:


Kan julle net indink hoe opgewonde so 'n mamma-hart kan wees om vir die eerste keer in 'n lang tyd by haar dogter op haar verjaardag te wees en om boonop ouma ook weer te word in dieselfde tyd? Dis oomblikke soos hierdie wat ek net my hande opgooi en vra "Waarom? Waarom nou?" Een vir een het ons die nuus gehoor en een vir een het mense se lewens in stukkies gebreek.  'n Lewe sonder Christa, is nie 'n lewe wat ons onsself ooit sou kon voorstel nie. En hoe meer mens op haar muur lees, hoe meer besef jy watter moeite sy met een en elkeen van die mense in haar lewe gedoen het. Sy was so onbaatsugtig, en het altyd 'n woord van aansporing gegee wanneer 'n mens dit die nodigste gehad het. Die skrywerswêreld in Suid-Afrika is 'n harde toffie om te kou, want hier skryf 'n mens vir liefde en nie vir rykword nie. Elke keer as ek moeg van die werk af teruggekom het en net wou tou opgooi, het Christa my weer opgetel, vir my 'n liedjie gespeel en soos 'n regte kuber-moeder my net weer herinner waarom ek skryf.

Sy het ook onlangs hierdie op my muur geskryf vir een van daardie dae:


Op 1 April hierdie jaar het ek besluit om vir my FB maats te sê ek is in hegtenis geneem in Delhi en dat ek 'n nommer van die Suid-Afrikaanse ambassade soek. Liewe Christa het my so goed leer ken hierdie laaste tyd dat sy sommer dadelik deur my gesien het.

Nadat ek van Indië af teruggekom het, het ek geblog oor my ervaringe daar. As daar een mens is wat vir haar medemens enige iets sou doen, dan is dit Christa gewees. En steeds het sy gehuil oor hoe gemaklik ons die lewe het en hoe hierdie arme mense moet dag vir dag net hulle noodlot aanvaar.



Een van my beste maats in Taiwan het onlangs verjaar. Christa het haar nog nooit ontmoet nie. Sy het haar net op fotos gesien en het besef watter groot deel Joyce van my lewe uitmaak. Soveel so dat sy haar op my muur geluk gewens het. Hoeveel mense sou eers die moeite doen? Maar dis wie Christa was.



Daar is baie verskillende mense in die wêreld, maar ek glo regtig party word gebore met net 'n groter hart vir mense as ander. Christa en ek het hierdie ding in gemeen gehad:  ons gee regtig om, ons wil regtig 'n impak maak en die wêreld 'n beter plek maak. Dit is hoekom ons op aarde gesit is. Ons is hier om 'n glimlag te bring, om aan te moedig en om nooit iemand te herinner aan al die weldade wat ons reeds gedoen het nie.


En ek dink dit is oor hierdie einste rede dat sy (meer as baie ander) dwarsdeur my kon sien. Ek het dae in hierdie woestyn beleef wat ek nooit in my lewe wil oorhê nie, maar anders as baie mense wat FB net as 'n buis van frustrasie gebruik, het ek my maskertjie mooi opgeplak en sit ek altyd snaakse videos en fotos op, want die kommentaar wat ek daarop kry maak my beter voel en gee my weer krag vir nog 'n dag.  Christa Jonker kon deur dit alles sien. Soveel keer het sy vir my 'n digitale drukkie of 'n versie gestuur.

By die skool in Abu Dhabi het ek onlangs begin met 'n klaskamer sisteem waar die kinders wissel en nie die onderwysers nie. Ons het 'n seun in 'n rolstoel vir wie ek so mooi sy klasse uitgewerk het. Hy hoef nooit by trappe op te gaan vir sy klasse nie en dit gee vir hom 'n kans om ook ander klasse te sien en nie net om een plek te sit nie. Blykbaar die Donderdag (nadat die sisteem begin het) is die seun gespot deur die ander kinders en van die bullies het sy rolstoel selfs geskop wanneer hulle wissel. Saleh is daardie aand dood in sy slaap. Toe ek die Sondag by die skool kom, vertel een onderwyser vir my dat die ander onnies vir Saleh se ouers vertel het "Mr Marion is responsible for your child's death. If we didn't use this new system, he would have stayed in one class and would not have had this pressure."  Ek was in stukkies gebreek, want ek was baie lief vir hierdie seun. Skielik word die bullies oorgekyk en ek word aangetuig vir 'n kind se dood. Enige een wat my regtig ken, sal weet hoe so iets my heeltemal kan breek. Ek is kantoor toe en het met my kop in my hande gaan sit. "Someone brought you this," het een van my kollegas gesê en 'n pakkie oorhandig.  Ek het dit oopgemaak en binne was twee boeke, "Chilli Lipstiek" en "Oudword is nie vir sissies nie vir Mans" deur Christa Jonker-Jordaan. Ek het dit soooo nodig gehad op daardie oomblik. As Christa maar net kon weet. Ek wou hierdie storie met haar deel wanneer ek haar van aangesig tot aangesig ontmoet . Ek wou haar vertel:  "Maatjie, voordat ek jou boeke oopgemaak het, het jy my al klaar so gebless en my deur een helse moeilike dag gehelp."


Vir Christa:

Ek het so bitter seer hier waar ek vandag sit, maar ek weet een ding meer as tevore. Basta met die mense wat wil voorgee mens kan nie lief raak vir iemand oor kabels nie, want jy was so deel van my daaglikse lewe dat jy 'n hoogtepunt van my dag was. Dankie dat jy gekies het om altyd positief te bly, dat jy soveel van ons se lewens verryk het met jou glimlag. Ek bid net dat die Here troosting bring vir jou familie en maats wat daagliks die voorreg gehad het om jou te kon ken. Maar vir een ding is ek altyd dankbaar, jou woorde gaan bly voortleef in hierdie bladsye in my hand. En wanneer ek jou verskriklik mis, gaan ek jou boeke net weer en weer deurlees, want daar sal ons verder kuier. Jou leemte sal nooit kan gevul word nie, Christa. Ek was bitter baie lief vir jou.

Hierdie  is haar laaste geskrewe woorde aan my, een maand gelede:


Kan 'n mens huil vir iemand wat jy nog nooit ontmoet het nie?  Die antwoord is: Ja.
Rus in Vrede, my engel maatjie. xxx

India - Part 3 - Jaipur and the Red Dot Curse

Trained out for a while
My train arrived after 23:00 in Jaipur and for someone who doesn't really do trains that often anymore, the over 5 hour ride was bordering on the are-we-there-yet side. I was exhausted and eagerly awaited my shower and bed time. I arranged for pick up and thankfully the hotel sent Rahm, who was waiting outside the station with my name. We made our way through the city which is also known as the pink city due to their many pink (which is actually more a shade of terracotta) buildings. We arrived at my hotel and as one writer in a Lonely Planet descibes it, it's like 'walking into a painting'. The Umaid Bhawan is really gorgeous and the art around you feels so alive. It immediately reminded me of that awful movie Night at the Museum where things came alive at midnight. I am sure it did in this place too. I took my shower and got to bed. The driver, Rahm, was going to take me to the Amber Fort the next day which is said to be something to see.
The Umaid Bhawan Hotel from the outside. It's got my name written all over it.

Inside of the Umaid Bhawan. It's like 'walking into a painting'

My one wish in India
As we head out the next day, I told my driver: "Rahm, I want to see one thing in Jaipur:  a snake charmer. A guy who plays a flute and makes a cobra go leftie-rightie." That's on my bucket list and I need to see it. He told me he knew just the place and I should trust him. I added that I do NOT want to go to any jewelry stores or see how they make carpets. Been there, done that, got the carpets! I told him that I'd even pay his commission that he gets for dragging tourists in there. He assured me he's not that kind of guy. We'll only do the Amber Fort and then he'll take me to see snake charming in the evening. Great. I was ready and excited.
Eager beavers
We arrived at the Amber Fort and from far away the castle-like structure stood proudly on the high hill ahead. Around this area you could see the high walls lined on the mountains that kept intruders out many years ago. Actually it was quite similar to the Great Wall (of India?). From the second I stepped out, I was swamped by hawkers and people who wanted to 'improve their English', but I refused and walked on. I focussed on the beautifully decorated elephants ahead who carried the shutter-happy tourists up the hill and shoved hawkers out of the way as I made my way to the main gate.
The Amber Fort It was nice to see an Indian elephant during my trip.

The curse
The fort was aleady flooded with tourists when I arrived at the ticket gate.  It is a magnificant structure, so I expected this. I followed some tourists into this Hindu temple where they were all blessed by some kind of priest who put the famous red dot (or tilak ) on their front heads. I stood in line and waited my turn. Once he was done with my dot, the man next to him grabbed me by the wrist and asked me money for the blessing. "But the other people didn't pay?!" I replied upset. "No, you have to pay!" he insisted. "To be blessed? I don't pay money to be blessed in any religion, dude!" I released myself from his grip and stormed out of there grumbling. I was not happy about this at all. Unfortunately, from here on out, everything went wrong. I slipped on the staircase, almost broke the Canon EOS camera, got lost in the huge building and nearly leaped to my death as a flock of Chinese tourists came hurdling around a corner near the rooftop. I hit my head more than once as this structure wasn't build for tall people like me and to top it all, numerous facially challenged people came to a stand still right in front of me when I wanted to take a picture of something. What was this? I walked towards the water stand where somebody tried to cheat me with a bottle of water which seal was already broken. Rule number one in India: Check the seals on the caps. If it's broken, don't drink it. 
Feeling like a troll.
I had enough! Too many people! To many crying children! Too many irritations. I reached my breaking point. I marched right out of the fort, down the road and back into the spiderweb of hawkers. The problem here in Jaipur is that (unlike even in touristy Agra) people were tugging on my clothes and on my camera and once you get into my personal space, you push the wrong button."What language you speak!" shouted the one. "Russian!" I shouted back. "Oh, I have book for you!" he grinned and optimistically waved a worn out Russian version of the tourist book. He pushed the book into my hand and I gave it back. He tried again and I neatly put it down on the ground next to me and walked on. Then he started shouting at me for doing so.
I walked on and focussed on the gate down under. I counted to 10 in all the languages I knew, but it wasn't working. This time a begger with crutches approached me with some pens. The poor guy was really disabled and his legs were pointing in all the wrong directions. I felt sorry for him, but I didn't want the damn pens and walked on. He begged and hopped after me as fast as he could on his crutches. I sped up and walked as fast as I could. Please leave me alone, I thought. He would give up, wouldn't he? The next thing, I heard a huge GWAHHH behind me. The hawker slipped over the rough terrain as he tried to keep up with me and was flat down on the ground, one crutch lying there, the other one over here! Sweet mothers of Maritzburg, why me?! I immediately turned back, now feeling like a flee who sold his own family to another dog's back. I helped him up and found his eyes full of tears. "Please sir, I'm so hungry" he pleaded. This is why India see-saws you between loving it and hating it. I want to do good to the world, but I can't help all these people. I can't make it all better for all of them and I hated this feeling so much. I was angry at myself for letting this happen, but there are so many scams in this place, that one even ignores the real needs. I apologized, bought all his merchandise and walked to the gate.
Snake charmers! Finally!
NOT MY PICTURE. I WISH!As I got outside the gate, I saw some snake charmers maybe 20m away from me. Tourists were taking pictures of them and I saw the cobras. This was just what I wanted to see! I didn't care if I had to pay for a photo, this was my dream in India. Someone grabbed me by the arm. It was Rahm, the driver. "I told you I'll take you tonight. These people charge too much." I told him I didn't care, but he insisted and I followed him to the car like the defeated street dog now carrying the previous mentioned flee's family.


Tick another bucket list
Honestly, this day wasn't going the way I planned and when I got to the hotel, I immediately booked a massage session. I've always wanted to try the Shirodhara massage. It's the Indian ayuvedic massage where they pour oil on your forehead. It's said to really calm one down, and boy did I need some calming down. They picked me up and I went to the massage parlour. When I got there, I asked them if I could use the bathroom. As I walked in, I noticed the red dot on my head which I refused to pay for earlier. I washed it off and thought to myself: did I get cursed for not paying for this dot? I was really not having the best day of my life and everything went sour after my outburst in a Hindu temple. 
I chucked the idea aside and washed the dot off. My masseur was ready and we started the session. Wow, how amazing is this? I felt like a new person and felt revitalized. For almost 40 minutes, I had the oil dripping gently on my head. I could feel the stress leaving my body, little to know that in 24 hours it'll all return. (How's that for dramatic irony?) 
I paid and the lady at the front desk told me that I didn't have to pay for the pick up service as it was included. The driver took me back to the hotel and asked me if I was impressed with his service. Well, other than the fact that you didn't get me into an accident, I'm happy. So he asked me for money. I refused and told him that I was told not to give him any. He started becoming all nasty and started driving like a loon. I got out at the next traffic light and walked to the hotel. There goes the happy-happy after the treatment!

Finding the Snake Charmers.
Rahm picked me up and told me he'll take me to a village where I can see some traditional Rajasthani dancing and singing and where I'll find my snake charmers. We head into the crazy traffic and we ducked and dived oncoming bikes, tuk-tuks, and of course ... cows. After about an hour, we were still driving. He finally stopped in an industrial area and asked to to go inside a building. Was this where I'd find a snake charmer? No. It was a factory. "I told you I don't want to go to a factory!" I said really upset. "Please sir," be begged. "If you go in, I'll get some coupons for food for my family. You don't have to buy anything. Just look around." I told him that I'll give him money for food, but that I didn't want to go into a factory. He asked again and I walked in against my will. What part of I DON'T WANT TO did this guy not get? If I have to see the inside of a material shop or jewelry in Asia one more time, I'm going to to plant one of those rings in the assistant's eye. I was welcomed and offered drinks (like the all do) and I was told about the factory prices and and and. Although it was affordable, I didn't really want anything. I told them I'm a poor teacher. "You can use your credit card!" they told me. "You think teachers get credit cards?" I mocked. I bought something small and left. "Happy now?" I said when I got to Rahm and I'm sure he saw the irritation on my face.
The Beautiful village
So we stopped at the promised village and Rahm told me he'd pick me up in four hours. Here I would see all the culture and dancing and snake charming and they'd even feed me. The place really looked nice from the outside and I walked in. I paid a staggering entry fee (for India) and followed the crowd in. When I got to the security check, I was told that I couldn't take in a camera and that I had to leave it at the counter. "What's the use of me seeing all the traditional things, if I can't take pictures of them?" I asked the guy at the counter. "Oh sir, you can take pictures in 3 hours after dinner." Why would I want to do that? I handed in the camera and walked inside. As Rahm promised, the place was beautiful and there were areas where performers were sitting and making music. All around them were boards that read: PLEASE DON'T ENCOURAGE TIPPING. Wonderful! At last a place where I can watch without paying. I walked from one stall to another and enjoyed the drums and clothes and dances, but each time they finished, they stormed the foreigner and held out their hands. "Give me money!" they'd demand. Not even a "Please". I would walk away and ignore them.
A cobra! Finally!!!!
As I walked through the grounds, I saw someone sitting there with the traditional clothes and flute and in the distance the cobra was standing and staring at him. This is the best thing after the Taj I thought as I almost started jogging towards it. It was also in this time that I realized I didn't have a camera to capture the moment. But if you think that was my disappointment, wait until I tell you what happened next! When I got there, the cobra was standing towards me with it's back. I couldn't believe it. Foul! It was a piece of cast iron that LOOKED like a cobra. No real deal here. The man with the flute got up when he saw me and held his hand open under the 'Don't encourage tipping' board and asked me to pay him for the four notes he played. I was furious and wanted to smack this dude with the iron cobra over the head.
Flash! Flash!
Just when you think the evening couldn't turn out worse, I noticed flashes clicking everywhere. How does this work? We were told to hand in our cameras. No people, it's the iPhone generation. So families were handing their phones to the workers of the ground to take pictures of them and the dancers. Everyone was taking pictures!! I left my Blackberry in Abu Dhabi as I didn't want to bring two phones here. I only brought my cheapy Nokia for important messages. I marched right up to the front desk and demanded they give me my camera. "Everyone's taking pictures!" I yelled. "Go outside and look." He told me that 'cameras' were not permitted, but cellphones were. ARGH!!!
Dear diary. I got cursed today. Dot... dot... dot...
I went to the hall where we were supposed to have dinner and sat down. There were still two hours left before Rahm would pick me up. I immediately contacted my best friend Justin in Abu Dhabi and asked him to get me out of Jaipur before I murder someone. This place was just getting too much for me. Thankfully lifesaving Justin is the magager of a travel agency and before my food arrived, I secured a place on the a flight early the next morning. I didn't want to stay here for 2 more days. 
The food arrived and it was traditional Rajasthani. They presented it on plates made of leaves only. Biodegrable. Impressive. I couldn't take a picture though. I asked them to not give me spicy food as I've been surviving India without Delhi belly so far. They assured me it was just a 'little bit spicy'. Well, people, there's a huge difference between an Indian's idea of little bit spicy and a foreigner's. The food was so hot, that I thought I burned an immediate hole in my undies when the first soup fell down my throat. It's that dot, I tell you. It's the cursed dot! 
Hellooooo tummy!
As feared, I couldn't even finish my food. I had to run and I had to run fast. I survived India for 4 days without Delhi belly, but thanks to my the spiciest dinner I've had in .... uhm... 34 years, it was that time. I pushed past people clicking away with their cellphones and finally made it to the porcelain scooter not a minute too late. And there I sat and I sat until it was time for Rahm to pick me up. I got my camera back, walked outside and told Rahm I was very very unhappy. He pretended that he didn't know about the camera rule and he honestly didn't know why they replaced the 'real' cobra with an iron one. I didn't want to hear it. He took me home and I started packing. I had to be up at 4am for my flight out of this cursed place.


The good, the bad and the ugly
I was seriously considering whether or not to share this story with you, but decided that I would as I don't want people to think that life always just works out while traveling. Sometimes you have good days, sometimes you have bad days... but Jaipur didn't break me. It just won the match that day. I just had a bad day like anyone in any place in the world. As I got onto the plane, I hoped that the red dot curse would only last 24 hours. Check my final blog next time to see if it did back in Delhi.
The dot on my head, that I'll never forget.

India - Part 2 - Close Encounters of the Taj Kind

Agra, I'm here.


The train finally stopped at Agra Station. I waved goodbye to my new found Indian friends and made my way to the platform. The buzz at these train stations is incredible. I get the feeling that locals like to 'hang out' here more than in the parks as most of them don't really look like they're heading anywhere. It's more a case of this floor is more comfortable than others. As I got outside, I was swamped again my hungry hawkers and scam artists. You have to keep in mind that the Taj Mahal calls Agra her home and many tourists flock to this part of India, so if you're going to be scammed, this is the place.. Luckily this not-so-first-time traveler did his homework and knew that one can book prepaid taxis to take you to the hotels. Then the driver can't scam you into anything else. This is how I met Riyaz, my taxi driver. This tiny dark skinned local was a whole lot smaller than me, but had enough heart to make up for his height. He took me to the hotel and offered to be my driver in Agra. We negotiated a price and he dropped me at the Grand Hotel. Don't be fooled by the name, but considering the poor communities that it was situated in, it was indeed grand. Francoise and I commented on the poverty in Delhi. We felt that although it was dirty, it wasn't as poor as we expected India to be. But some parts of Agra is exactly that, poor. The labour here is rediculously cheap and all marble, textiles and handcraft are made in this region. The government of India (thank goodness for people with common sense) felt that although India was growing financially, they'd keep factories away from the Taj as the soot was not good for her marble.


A little bit of history

As promised, Riyaz picked me up at the hotel for what was to become one of the biggest days of my life. I'd see the sun go down on the Taj Mahal ! What could be better than this? But first he took me to the Baby Taj (Itimad-ud-Daulah) which I have to admit, I didn't really know existed. The design of the building was facinating and what a bonus to see. The sun announced that it was going to sleep soon and we made our way to the back of the famous Taj by the river Yamuna. I know many of you know about the legend of the Taj and that Shah Jahan built it for his wife, Mumtaz Mahal, who died during childbirth. You might also know that it took more than 20,000 workers a staggering 22 years to complete the project. There were rumours that Shah Jahan wanted to build an exact replica of the Taj on the other side of the river, this time with black marble. Many say that this is only a myth, but my guide swears that this is the case as he took me to the area where they started with the Black Taj's foundation. Jahan's son apparently felt that his dad was losing it and spend too much money on the White Taj as it was. Therefore he put him under house arrest in the Agra Fort not too far from the Taj. I'll tell you more about that later.

My first encounter with the amazing Taj
   The Taj was standing on the opposite side of the river. I was awestuck. The last time I felt so overwhelmed by emotions, was when I walked on the Great Wall of China. Here stands the largest love story ever. I tapped into time, into the heart of a husband who could never have his wife back and tried the best way he could to remember her beauty. He sure did a fine job, because the marble of the Taj welcomed the sun's rays and it turned a reddish orange. The famous moon stones also started glimmering and made it clear why I'm standing at one of the New 7 Wonders of the World. I just sat and stared. Soaked in it. That's all you can do. Well, at least I had four and a half minutes of peace as local kids came running to me and made deals for pictures. If I take so many, I'd have to pay them so much. The one's English was better than some first language speakers and I thought to myself: Imagine this. In Abu Dhabi my students learn English in school for ten years and know nothing. These kids don't go to school and they're more world wise than many educated ones. I on the other hand have one rule while traveling; I don't give sweets or money to children. So, I very nicely explained to the ring leader that he's welcome to have his picture taken, but that there'll be no money involved in this transaction. At the end of the day, kids stay kids, and they were so keen to show off their moves and see their pictures on the digital display, that they somehow forgot about the money. It turned out a lot of fun.

Indian business

Riyaz took me for some much needed dinner afterwards. Now you can say about an Indian or a Portuguese what you want, but one thing is set in stone: these guys know how to do business. First I had to pay the car watcher for the parking. Then I had to pay to use the toilet. Then I had to pay to use the basin and as you would expect, I had to pay for the dinner too. After a good meal I had to pay the father of the Indian boy to take a picture of his son in full traditional wear. I just burst out laughing when the door man decided that I'll have to pay him for watching the car as well. I was most surprised that the money wallet around my waist still had a working zipper after the whole ordeal. Still, all of this was dirt cheap and it probably cost me around 2US$ in total (dinner of course exclduded).

Good morning, Agra. Time to meet the Taj up close and personal

I asked Riyaz to pick me up at sunrise as it was my dream to see the Taj three different times of the day. As promised he picked me up at 6 o'clock and it was still quite dark outside. Now I have to add here that India's times confuse me like no other country in the world. Okay, I get the fact that one has to move an hour or two ahead or backwards in time, but working with half an hour? That's darn confusing. I guess India's three and a half hours ahead of South Africa, but I still don't really get it. We arrived at the Taj about fifteen minutes later and the sun was yawning just over the horizon. Although Riyaz warned me of tour guides trying to scam me, I did read that you can ask them for their credentials and you might get some good info out of them. So, I met Munna, a sweet old guy who I felt I could trust. He immediatlely arranged that I don't have to stand in a long line and got me in through the 'Indian Male Only' line. You should have seen the confused frown on the face of the security guy when I stepped through. Munna is a godsend when it comes to photos. He 'understands' my needs and made me jump and sit and pose. He even asked some old age ladies politely to please get up from a specific bench where Bill Clinton and Princess Di sat before for a picture. The tourists laughed more at Munna than anything else.
My photographer was the best!

The Taj Mahal is worth all the hype it gets. The way that marble shines as the first rays of the day hit it, is just indescribable. Here the words 'breathtaking' and 'surreal' get a whole new meaning. 


One of the pics I took at the Taj that morning.
"Just take it all in"


Munna sat me down at the East side of the Taj and told me to just take it all in while he ran around with my camera taking pictures of all the best spots. I sat there and once again it was almost too much to take in. The moonstones in the Taj glinted gold as the sun rose behind me. The white marble now had a yellow glow and it was even more beautiful that I ever imagined. Munna took me around the structure and then into the main door where we saw replicas of the tombs that were beneath us. I need to remind you all that the Taj Mahal is a burial site and not a temple of worship as many believe. It's just one gorgeous grave. Of course I had the best guide in town and Munna decided to do a prayer call into the dome by chanting his favourite verse of the Holy Quran. All the tourists fell silent and they all probably felt what I did: peace and goosebumps. His voice rose to the top of the dome and circled around there until the marble finally absorbed his prayer like a hungry shrub after the first rains.

Those darn kids!

The detail in the marble is fascinating.The craftmanship in and around the Taj Mahal is so well done. The detail in the flowers and decoration is absolutely fantastic.You begin to imagine why it took them 22 years to complete it. Even with computer technology and oil money, nothing like this would ever be built again if you ask me. Nobody in today's day and age would go to this trouble. 


So, eventually Munna said goodbye and I made my way back to the gate. Remember I mentioned how I never give money to children? Well, this was until I met the best sales people I've come across in my entire lifetime. These kids weren't begging. They were bargaining. They asked where I was from. I answered South Africa. Oh, the cricket didn't go that well. Yes, it didn't. So which part are you from, because you look like you're from Johannesburg. I am from Johannesburg. Nice, they say. How's the Rand? How's Mandela? Is he better now? Why do our cricket team always choke? I was shocked to know how much these guys knew about us. And again, they're not in school!?!? Since I was one of the first visitors to the Taj, I would be their lucky first customer and they kept on bargaining. I refused still and walked to the gate. They kept on lowering the prices. I stayed strong. Was this road to the gate really that far? These guys are going to crack me, and I've never been cracked by children! "Sir, this is how I see it," said the one. "You're obviously alone here and that means you've left a whole lot of people behind somewhere who really wanted to be here with you. Seeing the Taj is a big day in your life. So why not make their day by giving them something small?" Damn, kid. You're good. You're really good. I saw the gate approaching. Only ten more meters. Nine. "Sir, have I treated you badly? Have I pushed and shoved you? Have I tugged on your clothes? Have I begged you for money?" Seven meters. Five! "Why not make this child's heart happy today by buying something very small?" Damn!!! I almost made it. "Okay! Okay! I'll buy some." The kid gave one of those any-heart-can-melt grins and handed over the merchandise. Doh! I was defeated by a nine year old. Again, the stuff really cost next to nothing, but I told him to use his intelligence and go back to school and become a business man, cause he'll be able to sell a snowman a hair dryer.

The Agra Fort

I made my way to one of the numerous rooftop restaurants where I had a delicious and much needed papaya lassi. I enjoyed the view and the buzz down below and how the monkeys stole the tourists' food from the table. Riyaz felched me there and we drove to the Agra Fort . This structure played a vital part in Agra's history. I stood at the one towers and stared at the Taj Mahal in the far away haze. This is where Shah Jahan stood every day after his son put him under house arrest. He could only see the structure he built for his beloved Mumtaz from here. He eventually died and was buried with her, togeher at last. I still get goosebumps as I'm writing this. I don't know if these true love stories really still exist in our day and age.
This was probably the view Shah Jahan had of his impeccable Taj Mahal from the Fort. Extremely sad.
Going Loco(l)

The previous day in Delhi I saw something interesting. A man had a chair, a small table and a mirror on an outside wall. He was a barber and was shaving someone there in the open. Of course I had to add this straight to my bucket list, especially since my electric shaver ran out of battery power somewhere over the Indian Ocean and I was looking more and more like a teenage wolverine. As I was waiting for Riyaz at the Fort, I saw this guy under the tree. Today was the day. I walked up to him and asked him for a shave. He kindly made me sit and of course the gora was the centre of attention again as most of these guys don't see foreigners ever sitting in these chairs. He asked me if I wanted my hair trimmed too. I said okay before my eyes fell on the combs in front of me. By the time I saw how dirty they were, he was coming my head like I was the Little Mermaid. I cringed and grinded my teeth, but decided that I'll have to sit through this. Luckily the comb only made it into my hair a few times and I even forgave him for the somewhat blunt scissors. All in all he did an okay job. The shave on the other hand was fun. I haven't had a clean shave in months and he immediatlely used a clean blade before I could ask. Riyaz arrived and laughed. He said that I am experiencing true India. That was the plan.

Those kids.

The kids just loved me taking photosI returned to the hotel and said my goodbyes to Riyaz. I really got to love the old soul in the last 24h and he looked well after me. I tipped him extra and wished him a good life. I then ran to the room to wash my hair. Properly. Twice. Afterwards I made my way outside the high hotel walls to take some pictures of the community nearby. My gosh, how poor are these people? Still this poverty is well hidden between all the smiles and colourful clothes. Kids came rushing towards me and asked me to take pictures of them. They didn't really care about money, but posing was everything. One boy must have heard that by taking off your shirt, you can flex your muscles more and he did. He was so thin, but posed as if he was Samson. I walked further and found boys playing cricket. They had bricks stacked onto each other, a tennis ball and two very old bats. But they were playing their hearts out. Man, this is the India I knew I would come to love. They were very excited when I clicked some pictures and they asked me if I was going to put them in a newspaper or something. I laughed and said I would. The posing just got more and more daring and they needed new props. This one went into the house and came running with his baby brother under the arm like a bag of potatoes. The others stormed a water buffalo as it would make a perfect accessory. I can't remember when I last laughed so much. Of course the one had to wear my sunglasses and he loved them so much. He would run to his mom to show off how cool he looked and then to his friends. Oh, God bless these kids.

Giving back...

I knew that this was the place where I wanted to give something back to the children. I returned to the hotel and fetched the colouring books, crayons and stickers I bought. Unfortunately, I don't have another way of descibing this, because the next moment they stormed towards me like flies to a fresh cow poop. They were all over me and the whole make-a-line thing didn't really work. They were so excited as I handed out Ben 10 and Spongebob Squarepants stickers. Parents came running with their kids, asking if they could also have a sticker or two. I was so overwhelmed by emotions. Today was a band aid on a painful wound I've been carrying for 3 years in the Middle East. The deep cut of no appreciation. It doesn't matter what you do, how much you give, there's very very little gratitude for anything. These people's eyes were sparkling and they thanked me from the bottom of their hearts. That wound was slowly disappearing as I realized there were still people like this in the world. I became one of the richest people I know that day.

The bitter-sweet of India

It was time to pack for Jaipur. I got into a Tuk-Tuk and made my way to the station. It was even more packed than when I arrived the day before. Today I also saw something I've never ever seen before and unfortunately it's an image that will haunt me for the rest of my life. A sick old man was lying on the cold concrete floor. He had a thin washed out robe around him and his privates were half exposed. But it was the flies that got to me. There were easily more than a 100 flies sitting on him. On his face. Over his privates. In his ears. Vulture like, as if they just eagerly waited for him to leave behind his last breath in this world. He wasn't a beggar. He was just lying there. Half... dead. People were walking around him. Life goes on for them. Who was he? Why was he there? Where is he sleeping tonight? What happened to him? What got him here in the first place? It's these things that shake your insides and forces you back to reality. It's these things that makes you dislike all those people who complain about petty things like haircuts that didn't work out, or that the huge steak on their plate is too peppery. I couldn't control my emotions, and I got onto the train with my own pair of tear tracks running down my cheeks. 
I am off to my next adventure, but Agra left me with mixed emotions. I saw the sun rise on the most amazing structure I've ever laid my eyes upon and I saw the same sun set on an old person who never deserved a life like this. This … is India.

India - Part 1 - Turning over the Curry-land in Delhi

All aboard
It's just after 11:20 and I've made my way to the Delhi train station. I'm sitting on board the Kerala express towards Agra. Today is the day where I'm going to finally see the Taj Mahal – one of my many dreams since I was a small boy. I'm going to see for myself whether this structure of love is really as amazing as it's always been promoted decades in and out. The plan with the Taj is to see it three different times of the day. It is said that it literally changes colour through the day because of the marble. I'm hoping to see it at dusk, dawn and somewhere near the middle of the day. I can't wait.
Jet Airways welcomes passanger Anil ADHD
India. Oh, India. Where do I start. Let's go back to Abu Dhabi where I began my trip. I got on the plane just after 23:00 and the flight went quite smoothly, with the few odd exceptions obviously. On the plane I met Anil ADHD. A forty-something year old man who had obviously not seen the inside of a plane too often. This man seemed like he had an intravenous supply of Red Bull somewhere, because he had a hop, a jump and the occasional twitch in him all through the four hour flight. He might have some Tourette's going on too as he would suddenly just shout at random people in the flight. One airhostess let go a sharp shriek and he poked her in the kidney at one point. This I could still handle, but when he placed his finger on one nostril and started sucking down everything he could, I knew this was not going to play out well. The second nostril was closed and the deposit down in his stomach had by now grown into one large goop. And then it happened. Anil ADHD picked up the see through plastic cup next to me and he let go. I mean people five rows in front and ten rows to the back stared in despair. Anil then started with the screen in front of him. He turned it on. Then turned it off. Then turned it on again. Enough to trigger any epileptic attack. Turns out Anil did not know it was a touch screen, and I wasn't planning to inform him as that plastic glass in his hand was all the way too close to my personal space.
Hello Delhi!
Akshardham Temple, New DelhiWe finally landed in Delhi and I whispered a very appreciative prayer, even if it was only to be rid of Anil. Funny enough with someone like that, you kind of forget all the other burps and farts that happen around you. Delhi airport is very modern and I think the magic word here in Commonwealth. They've upgraded the airport and it's very easy to get into town with the super cheap express train. The view from the train was amazing. I never knew it was so green here. Hundreds of species of trees welcome you to the capital from all sides of the road. The sun just rose and it was hazy outside, but what a sight to see the plantation bathe in a light orange. I finally arrived at the Delhi Station and now I had to find my hotel. I didn't get the memo that I would be the only gora (white person) in town for the day as I expected to see many tourists and travelers, but apparently they weren't there. Tuk-Tuk drivers rained down upon me with the occasional scam trying to get every bit of dollar out of you that's possible. The fact that I seemed to be the only foreigner in a 3km radius, made me the obvious target. I politely refused every offer and tried to make my own way to the hotel (which as it happens decided to change names over night). After seven times around the station, I was glad that Jericho was still standing and I swallowed my pride. I walked to a Tuk-Tuk driver and asked for help. He promised he knew exactly where we were heading, but I should have known he too had no clue.
Lost between man, beast and machine
I got into the Tuk-Tuk and we entered the downtown traffic. Thank God for experiences in places like Saigon, Taipei and Bangkok, otherwise I might have been a little freaked out by this dude that took on huge trucks and live animals crossing the road. We bumped a dog, we bumped a bike, we bumped and old lady who probably didn't reply 'Good morning' to us – I would say all in all a regular ride. Mr Tuk-Tuk didn't know where we were and we got lost. The more I said left, he went right and at one stage I think he took me into an area where no gora had every been. Man, if germs could walk and talk and go to school, this would be the place. I immediately took out my hand sanitizer and bathed myself while the driver got directions. Eventually we made it to the hotel which was a 2 minute walk away from the train station. Oh, the joys of being lost in a new place. I checked in and had a much needed shower. Then I tried to get some sleep as Anil ADHD himself took away that option on the plane.
In transit
Back to the present. The ride to Agra will be just over 3 hours. The train is better than I expected and I landed next to two Swedish guys. They've been in Delhi for a few days, but they've already had a few dates with the porcelain throne. So far, I can proudly say, I'm... hanging in there. No Delhi Belly. Touch wood! The communities next to this train track are so poor. Dilapidated homes build the skyline and the paving outside consists of plastic bags and garbage. Still sad to know you're in one of the world's largest growing economies, but that poverty will still stay part of this country for many more years. People struggle with everyday life, but they still choose to smile. Kids roll round in the ground and still get dirty. Are our children sitting in an artificially lit room playing Xbox the whole day really better off in the end?
Big-eyed boy
There's a small boy and his family sitting across from me. He stared at me and the Swedish guys from the moment we got to our seats, probably wondering why the heck we all have different eye colours and why our noses were so big. Back in Abu Dhabi I bought some colouring books and crayons as well as stickers. I've made a pact in my travels that I'll never give children sweets or money. The one is bad for their teeth and the other is not good for making better people out of them. Therefore I try to bless them with something useful. The little boy's eyes lit up when I handed him the book and his parents were so grateful. Living in the Emirates you don't see a lot of this kind of gratitude.


Reunion time!
Okay, back to Delhi. After I woke up I got ready to welcome my friend Francoise's arrival. She's one of Namibia's top journalists and she was invited by India's government to come have a look. Who knew that we'd be meeting here. Francoise Steynberg has been one of the biggest fans of my writing and is solely responsible for forcing Namibian bookstores to stock my books on their shelves. I haven't seen her in years and I was really looking forward to our meeting. I always say you get two kinds of friends in the world. Those who are seasonal and those who are eternal. Seasonal friends are great for a specific time of your life, but when you meet them 5 years later, they've moved on, changed their views and lives and it's hard to find a common conversation. The other friends I call my 'pick-up-where-we-left-off' friends and Francoise is one of them. We live different lives, but once we meet up again, we can just continue the life long friendship. Francoise and I finally reuniting in Delhi of all places.Two Africans, one Connaught's Place.
We decided to head out to Delhi and our first stop was Connaught's Place. This circle is buzzing with shops and restaurants and people. Of course the scams started again. This one offered you this and that one offered you that and at one stage we landed in a weird little 'tourist office' in a strange alley. Sorry for you Mr Scammer, but I'm not a virgin traveler and we played our best card. "We're both journalists from South Africa and Namibia and we were invited by your government to exploit the tourist scams in India." Man, oh man... did their faces and tunes change. Suddenly we were only given useful information and we were off to find a lunch place. We arrived at an old age English Coffee Shop which turned out to have some of the best Indian food I've ever had. The butter chicken here was to die for and we literally ended up licking the curry from our fingers.
Tourist manners
After the scrumptious meal we decided to just go lie like lazy people in the park. This is usually my favourite place to do people watching. You just become one of the trees and stare. Well, unfortunately if you're not an indigenous tree, you get spotted as the visitor plant and here we were overwhelmed by hawks and others. If we could get one dollar for each time we said "No thank you!", I'd be a very rich man today. It's funny that as the day goes on a "Thanks, but no thanks!" turns into a "No, thank you" and then a "NO!! Thank you." In a few hours it might sound something like: "NO!! Get away from me!" Another dude approached us with pictures of tourists that wrote notes about him in a booklet. I had to read all 73 accounts of people complimenting his – sit for this one – ear cleaning skills. Apparently he is one of Delhi's best ear cleaners and the Bollywood stars in his booklet all agree unanimously. I politely declined the offer of him sticking a piece of wire in my ear, but he insisted that the first ear is free. I still declined, but found myself with an earplug a second later. "Oh my god!" he exclaimed and looked three seconds from fainting. He showed me the ear plug and it was filled with mud. Now I don't take pride in studying ear wax at the Ohio institute of International Ear Science, but that was no ear wax. He insisted in cleaning the other one too. I again said no thanks. Frankie smiled at him and said: "It sounds to me that YOUR ears need cleaning as you obviously don't hear when we say NO!" He got up and left. Thanks Frankie. My hero!
From henna to losers
Francoise being 'hennad'We made our way to the India gate which is quite a nice structure. Again poor Frankie got attacked by Henna girls. Now henna is the spicy substance women in Asia use to decorate their bodies (if you didn't know). While she got painted, I was asked by numerous Indians if I'd pose with them for pictures. They were all sure I was a celebrity and that they've seen me in a Bollywood movie somewhere. I was very honoured, but told them I wasn't. They still insisted. After my photo shoots and Frankie got her henna, we made our way to a pub to watch the cricket between South Africa and New Zealand. Now if you don't know that India is passionate about cricket, I'll tell you again. They call their children Johnty and Ab and they know more about the personal lives of each South African cricket player than most South Africans know. How many children they have, where they got educated. Even though they call South African World Cup 'chokers', they still love our country very much and they've got extreme respect for our players. They've even forgiven Hansie for the match-fixing all those years ago.
Don't mess with the Curry-land
We lost the cricket, our legs were tired and we finally made our way back to the hotel where I jumped on the bed as promised. Francoise and I said a week ago that we're going to turn over the Curry-land. We both agreed that maybe the Curry-land turned us over a bit, but we loved every moment in Delhi. What a great place to have a reunion. I'll write after seeing the Taj again. Looking forward to it as a child to Christmas.

Skryf is nie vir sissies nie : Van Diep Water tot Gypsydanse

Drie groot name in die Afrikaanse skrywerswêreld het onlangs by die 11de US Woordfees in Suid-Afrika bymekaar gekom en gesels oor die liefdesroman en chick-lit. 
Die onderhoud is lank, maar barstens vol interessanthede. Ek is seker dat baie mense graag wil weet hoe dit is om in hierdie genres te skryf en om te besef dat nie een van die twee baie maklik is nie.  Oor na drie van my gunsteling mense in die boeke-wêreld.

Manuskripontwikkelaar Madri Victor gesels met Helene de Kock en Nadia de Kock
Madri: Ons praat vandag oor ontspanningsliteratuur en die uitdagings wat dit aan die skrywer en leser stel.  Albei Helene en Nadia se laaste boek het in 2009 verskyn:  Helene se Somersneeu is 'n liefdesroman en Nadia se boek Heildronk op 'n gypsyromp is  chick-lit. 
So kom ons begin by die begin.  Helene, wat is 'n liefdesroman en hoe verskil  dit van ander ontspanningsliteratuur soos byvoorbeeld die romanse?
Helene: Madri, ek wil eers die benaming bietjie verander. Ek skryf verhoudingsromans want  ek glo in elk geval nie dat liefde in 'n vakuum kan bestaan nie. Daar is altyd, maar altyd, ander verhoudings ook betrokke. Daar is naasbestaandes, die wyer familie en baie vriende betrokke. Al hierdie verhoudings maak juis die liefde so interessant en ook so kompleks.
Daar is 'n hemelsbreë verskil tussen die romanse en die liefdesroman. 'n Romanse ignoreer die werklikheid, soos wat Chanette Paul al by herhaling gesê het. Daarmee word die romanse nie afgekraak nie. Dis 'n kuns om volgens 'n resep wat net in geluk glo, te skryf. Dit daar gelaat want dis nie vandag se onderwerp nie.
Die liefdesroman is 'n perd van 'n totaal ander kleur. Die liefdesroman of dan nou die verhoudingsroman, hanteer die werklikheid en met al die ellende, ongelukkigheid en ook ware vreugde wat daarmee saamgaan. Een ding moet mens besef, geluk is net so werklik soos ongeluk en geluk kan daarom ook ontgin word. Maar, 'n verhoudingsverhaal weerspieël die werklikheid. Soos Roy Niemann jare gelede gesê het, dit moet die werklikheid kon gewees het met 'n skynsel van die vreemde. Die liefde is in hierdie subgenre van die roman dan ook problematies van aard, soos wat J.B. Roux daarna verwys het. Juis omdat dit die werklikheid hanteer, is daar, nes in die werklikheid, 'n legio werklike probleme.
Ek wil net as voorbeeld hier verwys na my drie nuutste romans. In Abel se dogters is daar behalwe die drie verskillende liefdesverhale, ook die ontginning van rousmart en die effek wat dit op 'n gesin het. Daar is ook die trauma van 'n miskraam.
Kliek HIER om te bestel In die historiese roman Dieper  water  word die werklikheid van verlies, die dood van 'n kind ( wat ek self ervaar het) deeglik ontgin. Dis behalwe die ander vier storielyne. Vir hierdie roman het ek tesame met die tesis wat daarmee saamgaan, 'n akademiese toekenning gekry. al het die boek nie eintlik resensies gekry nie. dit het besonder goed verkoop. Lesers is regtig nie dom nie.
In Somersneeu  is daar die trauma van plaasmoord en die implikasies wat dit vir al die karakters inhou. Dis behalwe die ander vier storielyne van die roman wat oor 'n tydperk van 12 jaar afspeel.
Dit moet dus duidelik wees dat daar in 'n verhoudingsroman veel meer plaasvind as wat die kritici daarvan soms dink. Daar is byvoorbeeld karakterontwikkeling en katarsis. Daar is 'n helder uitbeelding van die ruimte waarin die karakters geplaas word.   Dit op sigself plaas die verhoudingsroman ten minste in die kring van Goeie Gewilde Prosa. En ja, ek weet dis 'n effens verouderde term maar dit is steeds belangrik om dit so te sien.
Madri: En chick-it, Nadia?  Wat is dit en hoe lyk chick-lit?
Nadia de KockNadia: Chick lit is 'n sambreelterm vir fiksie wat hoofsaaklik deur vroue vir vroue geskryf word. Vandag word aanvaar dat Helen Fielding se Bridget Jones' Diary die genre amptelik in die negentigs begin het.  Werke wat as chick lit bemark word is regtig uiteenlopend van aard wat dit moeilik maak om die genre RAAK te omskryf.  Om dinge nog vaer te maak, is daar deesdae ook Bride Lit, Hen Lit, Christian Lit, Asian Lit ensovoorts. 
Ons kan egter aanvaar dat die chick lit genre hoofsaaklik handel oor vroue in hul laat twintigs of vroeg dertigs en hul loopbane, vriendskappe en verhoudings. Die romans speel ook in die stad af, daar is nie 'n plaasopstal in sig nie. 
Wat chick lit onderskei van gewone fiksie vir vroue deur vroue is die stemtoon van die verteller; die taalgebruik is modern, dit kan intiem wees en daar is gewoonlik 'n goeie dosis humor in.  Die tema's is dieselfde as 'gewone' fiksie se temas:  disfunksionele en funksionele families, vriendskaplike asook romantiese verhoudings, verslawings, verkragting, moord en dies meer.   Moet jouself ook nie deur die girly voorblaaie laat flous nie:  Die laaste twee Marian Keyes-boeke, waarin skokkende tema's aangespreek word, het tipiese chick lit boek : pastelkleure, krulletjies en nog 'n paar sterretjies ook.
Chick lit word ook beskou as 'n post-feministiese genre:  Bridget Jones het haar werk en al is dit nie die ideale werk nie, word sy dieselfde as haar manlike eweknieë betaal.  Sy is ook vryer, sy kan byvoorbeeld van tyd tot tyd te veel wyn drink, sy kan haarself seksueel meer uitleef en hoef nie meer vir die huweliksnag te wag nie.
Madri: Die term chick-lit dra nogal swaar aan 'n negatiewe konnotasie.  Nadia, hoe voel jy oor die term en dink jy daar is 'n beter benaming wat ons in Afrikaans kan gebruik?
Nadia:  Die term chick-lit is oorspronklik ironies bedoel, en is in 1995 deur twee manlike redakteurs gebruik om 'n bundel kortverhale deur vroulike skrywers 'n naam te gee. Die naam van die bundel was "Chick lit: Post-feminist Fiction" Een van die redakteurs, Chris Mazza sê dat die titel beslis nie bedoel is om 'n lawwe (frivolous) of koketterige beeld van vroue te omhels nie, maar eerder om verantwoordelikheid te neem vir hulle (ek neem aan mans) aandeel in die skadelike stereotipe.  Maar bemarkers het van die term gehou en daarmee gehardloop. Chick lit , asook chick flicks, het 'n kulturele krag geword.
Ek hou nie vreeslik van die term nie, bloot omdat ek nie van die woord chick, wanneer dit na vroue verwys, hou nie.  'n Chick is vir my 'n wollerige geel dingetjie wat piep.  Ek voel egter nie so sterk daaroor dat ek byvoorbeeld veldtogte in koerante en op Litnet teen die gebruik van die term sal loods nie. Buitendien, ek het nie 'n alternatiewe naam vir die genre nie.  Dit moet fun en sexy  en modern wees.  Daar moet tog iewers 'n briljante jong kopieskrywer sit wat met 'n beter alternatief, in Afrikaans, vir die term chick lit vorendag kan kom!
Die drie dames by die Woordfees
Madri: Is dit maklik om chick-lit – of liefdesromans – te skryf?  En Helene hier moet jy asb. saampraat.
Helene: Nee beslis nie. Geen skryfwerk is maklik nie. En wat veral belangrik is om te onthou, is dat dieselfde vereistes wat vir letterkunde geld ook vir goeie Gewilde Prosa van alle genres geld. M.a.w  prof  Hennie Van Coller (1990:102) meen dat daar "oorgange, ooreenkomste en raakpunte" is tussen letterkunde en populêre literatuur of te wel goeie gewilde prosa. In 'n goeie, stewige roman of goeie gewilde prosa "streef die skrywer na groter geloofwaardigheid, ronder karakters en beter motivering sonder om die pakket so swaar te laai dat die leser vervreemd word" (Baker, 1990:97).
Dit is egter soms moeilik om tussen "Goeie Gewilde Prosa en letterkunde te onderskei" (Baker, 1990:97,98). Van der Walt (1989:23) meen: "GGP goed beoefen is outentieke epiek, 'n rasegte afstammeling van die vroegste sages en sprokies, fabels en gelykenisse". Volgens Van Coller (1990:103) egter, is ontspanningsliteratuur, alhoewel sommige goed geskrewe is, bevestigend "van die heersende norme: eties, polities en moreel". Daarenteen meen Van Coller (1990:103) ook dat "letterkunde nooit die leser (sus) nie". Malan (1986:9) is weer oortuig dat "alle soorte prosa hul eie bestaansreg (het) en dit hou nie 'n bedreiging vir die ander in nie". Uit watter hoek goeie gewilde prosa ook al beskou word, dit bly 'n vereiste dat dit inderdaad goed geskryf moet wees. Dit wil sê die skrywer van goeie gewilde prosa moet die leser kan vermaak en terselfdertyd 'n diepgang in sy/haar roman kan inweef, sonder om toeganklikheid in te boet.
'n Ontspanningsroman (en ek sluit chick-lit, met daardie lekker tong-in-die-kies styl in) behoort altyd in die kategorie goeie gewilde prosa te val. 'n Goed geskrewe ontspanningsroman moet bepaald nie vervlak tot triviaallektuur nie. Dit gebeur wanneer die skrywer nie werklik betrokke is by sy verhaal nie, en as "sy belewenis oppervlakkig is sal sy prosa eentonig en spanningloos wees; sy sinsbou ongevarieerd en dus voorspelbaar" (Aucamp, 1992:35). Baker (1990:99) is van mening in "ligte ontspanningsverhale word die karakters oppervlakkig bekyk en bly hulle plat karakters".
Nadia: Ek wens dit was. Skryf is moeilik, hetsy dit in een van die genres, ontspanningsprosa of ernstige letterkunde is.  Binne genres is dit dalk EERS moeilik,  omdat enige skrywer wat sy of haar sout werd is en respek vir haar leser het, moeite sal doen met die prosa  asook ander verhaalelemente en dat hierdie BINNE DIE GRENSE  van die betrokke genre moet gebeur.
Madri: Wat is die uitdagings wat hierdie tipe genre's aan 'n skrywer stel?  Helene?
Helene: Ek maak beswaar teen die woord 'tipe', Madri. Verskillende genres en ook letterkunde is almal kinders uit dieselfde huis. Mens kan nie appels met lemoene vergelyk nie. 'n Goeie appel is 'n goeie appel en 'n vrot lemoen is 'n vrot lemoen. Tolstoy het al gesê daar is eintlik net goeie en slegte boeke – op alle vlakke. Mens kry swak werke wat as letterkunde deurgaan en natuurlik uitstekende werke ook. Dieselfde geld vir Goeie Gewilde Prosa.
Nou, die uitdagings:Mens (en ook uitgewers want 'n uitgewery is 'n besigheid, nie 'n liefdadigheidsorganisasie nie!) soek 'n goeie storie. Almal soek 'n storie wat lesers sal laat aanhou lees. En omdat alle boeke deesdae in kompetisie is met televisie, fliek en die Internet, moet jy sorg dat die storie boeiend is. Die eerste paragraaf of bladsy moet al boei.Die leser wil in 'n ontspanningsroman met die held en heldin identifiseer.Die ruimte moet baie interessant wees en 'n direkte bydrae maak tot die ontplooiing van die storie en die uitbou van die karakters. "Ek wil dit weer aanhaal: Out of place a character is formed.' Selfs al sou dit leser dit nie so formeel herken nie, sal hy/sy weet as dit nie reg gedoen is nie.Daar is al gesê dat die hantering van die emosionele spanning in die roman die hoofrede is waarom 'n roman goed verkoop..Onthou, selfs politieke spanning het emosionele gevolge as dit boeiend uitgebeeld word.
Nadia: Vir my persoonlik is die grootste uitdaging die pas wat chick lit verlang.  Daar is nie plek vir lang mymeringe nie; die leser se aandag moet vasgevang en behou word.   En binne hierdie pas moet behoorlike karakterisering en duidelike teken van die milieu gebeur.  Nog 'n uitdaging is om cliché's te vermy en daarvoor moet mens wyd lees.  Die gay best friend, die obsessie met ontwerperskoene en die bitsige baas is ou nuus.
Madri: Doen julle navorsing vir julle boeke?  Hoe belangrik is dit?  En wat behels hierdie tipe navorsing?
Helene: Navorsing is baie belangrik en dis veral belangrik dat dit korrek moet wees. Navorsing bestaan uit  oplees uit goeie bronne, onderhoude (beide informeel en gestruktureerd) wat met mense gevoer word. Ek het bv. onlangs met 'n 90 jarige dame wat nog self bestuur en smiddae haar kleinkinders met hul huiswerk help, oor die 2de Wêreldoorlog gesels.  Sy kon my baie vertel van eetgewoontes, kosse, petrolkoepons, tekorte, ens. Verder lees ek baie boeke oor die 2de Wêreldoorlog en gesels met kenners.
Maar navorsing moet geheel en al geïntegreerd wees met die storie. Dit moet dus nie aangeplak wees nie. Dit moet soos suurdeeg in brood wees. Mens proe nie die suurdeeg apart nie.Dus: Die roman moet nie so styf gelaai wees met inligting dat die leser later half verveeld of moedeloos raak nie. En selfs begin paragrawe oorslaan omdat die inligting op die storie inbreuk maak! Die storie is en bly die belangrikste. Die storie moet die navorsing so kundig en so gemaklik deurgee dat die leser eers agterna besef hoeveel hy/sy daaruit geleer het. Met ander woorde:. Verbeelding is en bly die goue sleutel tot fiksie. MAAR dis verbeelding wat  gedissiplineerd is. Dit moet geloofwaardig wees. Die skrywer moet die leser met sy/haar hantering van  karakter en ruimte en handeling en tyd verlei sodat die leser dink dis die absolute waarheid. Of natuurlik, as dit fantasie is, moet die leser absoluut daarin glo.
Nadia: Ek doen ook heelwat navorsing. Dis bitter belangrik om nie feitefoute te maak nie; lesers tel dit baie gou op en die skrywer loop die werklike gevaar om aan geloofwaardigheid in te boet.  Vir Sabina's(my eerste roman) moes ek eksperts in die Maatskappyereg raadpleeg en moes ek die regsproses vir wanneer ongetekende aandeelhouersooreenkomste betwis word, verstaan.  Vir Heildronk moes ek onder andere navorsing oor besigheidsplanne en die uitgewersbedryf doen.  Ek het weer eens met eksperts gesels en het ook baie nagelees (Die Rich Dad Poor Dad boeke en ook twee boeke oor magspeletjies.)  En dank ook die hemel vir die Internet, ek het gesellige ure op YouTube spandeer op soek na die REGTE Gypsymusiek vir my Mieke-karakter om op te dans. 
Ek het ook lekker geskryf aan die toneel waar Mieke saam met Suid-Afrika se weergawe van Richard Branson enkelmout whiskies proe – en hiervoor het ek my nota's, wat ek gedurende toere deur Skotse distilleerderye geneem het, asook 'n paar brosjures wat ek versamel en saamgedra het, geraadpleeg. Ek is 'n kompulsiewe nota-maker en brosjure-versamelaar, wat baie help.
Ek werk tans aan my derde manuskrip, wat ook lyk asof dit chick lit gaan wees en twee van die tema's is afleggings in 'n groot korporatiewe maatskappy asook die steel van die data met die doel om dit te verkoop.  Vir afleggings versamel ek nuusberigte en interne kommunikasie oor en gesels ek met eks-kollegas wat persoonlik geraak is. Ek gesels ook met IT-vriende sover dit die steel van data aanbetref – met hulle verifieer ek tegniese feite. Ek werk self by die IT-afdeling van 'n bank maar is nog lugtig om met ons Sekuriteitsafdeling oor die steel van data te praat – ek voel 'n bietjie paranoies!  Ek sal egter op  'n stadium MOET. 
Madri: Ek kry dikwels die indruk dat  "ernstige"  letterkunde byna vanselfsprekend as "goed" beskou word terwyl ontspanningsliteratuur eenkant toe geskuif word as goed vir ontspanning en ontvlugting, maar nie noodwendig "goed" in 'n tegniese sin nie.   Waarom dink julle word ontspanningsliteratuur nie ernstig opgeneem nie? 
Helene: Ja, die ou storie van mens mag nie iets geniet nie dan's dit boos of erger, oppervlakkig! Madri, ek is bly jy vra die vraag, maar dit voel vir my asof die wiel telkens herontwerp word. In 1992 al (eeue gelede!)was daar 'n debat waaraan ek en prof  Elize Botha, prof Hennie van Coller, Fanie Olivier en Eleanor Baker deelgeneem het. Die Onderwerp was Populêre Prosa versus die Letterkunde – die vraag was MOET DAAR 'N VERSUS WEES. Ons het al vyf besluit daar behoort geen versus te wees nie maar dat populêre prosa goed geskrewe behoort te wees. Verder kan ek jou nie antwoord nie.  Wat ek wel dink, is net dat ontspanningsliteratuur nie oor dieselfde kam as 'n literêre werk geskeer behoort te word nie – dit moet binne sy genre geresenseer word. Dit vra natuurlik kundiges op die gebied. Persoonlike smaak en persoonlike lewensiening behoort hier geen rol te speel nie. Wel vaste norme vir beoordeling. Bv. Is die karakterisering geloofwaardig? Word die ruimte waarin die karakters optree helder uitgebeeld en is daar 'n stewige storie.
Charles Malan, bekende letterkundige is oortuig dat "alle soorte prosa hul eie bestaansreg (het) en dit hou nie 'n bedreiging vir die ander in nie". Uit watter hoek goeie gewilde prosa ook al beskou word, dit bly 'n vereiste dat dit inderdaad goed geskryf moet wees. Dit wil sê die skrywer van goeie gewilde prosa moet die leser kan vermaak en terselfdertyd 'n diepgang in sy/haar roman kan inweef, sonder om toeganklikheid in te boet.
Kliek HIER om dit te bestel Nadia: Moontlik omdat dit nie grensverskuiwend is nie?  Moontlik omdat 'ontspanning' en 'toeganklik' deesdae vloekwoorde geword het?  In sekere kringe kla mense ook oor 'dumbing down' of dan 'afdomming' van die gemeenskap deur die lees van populêre boeke. Vir my is die ultimate dumbing down egter 'n nie-lesende gemeenskap.  En as my boeke mense kry om te lees, of Afrikaans weer te lees, hef ek 'n loflied aan.  Ek is 'n vaandeldraer vir lees, en deel graag my gunsteling filosoof, Professor A C Grayling, verbonde aan die Universiteit van London, se beskouiing: (In kort, hy sê dat lees mense se simpatie verhoog – selfs boeke met meer modest aspirations) omdat mense hulself herken in die motivering en optrede van fiktiewe karakters, in hul menswees.  Dit lei volgens hom tot 'n groter gevoel van simpatie met ander en kan die breë gemeenskap dus net goed doen).
Madri: Verlede jaar was daar ietwat van 'n polemiek in die media oor Jonathan Franzen se boek,Freedom.  Skrywers soos Jodi Picoult en Jennifer Weiner (onderskeidelik skrywers van die liefdesroman en chick-lit) het beswaar gemaak daarteen dat hulle boeke jare lank al dieselfde temas as dié van manlike skrywers soos Franzen aanspreek en tegnies netso goed is, maar nooit in The Timesgeresenseer word nie.  In die oorsese mark spreek skrywers soos Picoult en Weiner, ook Marian Keyes en ander skrywers van ontspanningsliteratuur, inderdaad soms ernstige temas aan:  alkohol misbruik, eetversteurings, buite-egtelike verhoudings, disfunksionele gesinne.  Is Suid-Afrikaanse boeke in hierdie genre te lig in die broek?  Sku ons weg van ernstiger temas?
Helene: Ek glo nie. In my roman Somersneeu bestaan die proloog uit 'n plaasmoord wat gepleeg word. Hierdie moord is die spilpunt waarom die hele roman draai. Almal word uiteindelik hierdeur geraak. Dit is eintlik 'n greep uit die verhaal – dit gebeur eers baie later in die roman wanneer dit vanuit 'n ander perspektief gesien word – maar dis die gebeurtenis wat katarsis en karakterontwikkeling bring. In Dieper water was een van die temas die verlies van 'n kind en ek kon daaroor skryf want  ek het daardie tipe verlies ervaar. In Abel se dogters is daar , behalwe die drie verskillende liefdesverhale ook die tema van rousmart en die effek wat dit op 'n gesin het. So ek dink regtig nie ons skram weg van ernstige kwessies nie. Ek het nog nooit. Maar, ek moet sê, ek is ook teen die ontginning van smartvraterigheid net ter wille van die effek daarvan in 'n roman. M.a.w. die ellendes, as dit in die storie teenwoordig is, moet natuurlik uit die storielyn vloei en nie aangeplak wees nie. Die verhaal moet integriteit hê. O ja, en humor is hoegenaamd nie per se afwesig in verhoudingsromans nie. Daar is regtig baie wat humoristies is in menseverhoudings.
Nadia: Wat chick lit aanbetref, dink ek ons sku wel nog weg van "ware gruwels" soos 'n resensent daarna in Beeld verwys het.  Dit is dalk tyd dat ons tema's soos geweld teenoor vroue en verkragtig ook aanpak.
Madri: Jy het genoem dat humor belangrik is in chick-lit, maar neem dit nie die fokus weg van ernstige kwessies nie?  
Nadia: Glad nie.  Chick lit is nie 'n lag 'n minuut nie of klugtig nie – ten minste nie die waarvan ek hou en wat ek al gelees nie.  Die humor wat vir my effektief is is meer te vind in die hantering van absurde situasies en die karakters se lewensuitkyke.  Hierdie tipe humor kan die ernstige kwessies en die hantering daarvan meer aangrypend, en dus meer effektief, maak.
Madri: Om terug te keer tot die hart van die Franzen-debat:  die feit dat vroue nie dieselfde blootstelling in die boekeblaaie kry as mans nie.  In Februarie was daar 'n artikel in The Guardianwaarin gewys is dat die meerderheid resensies in oorsese boekeblaaie deur mans geskryf word en dat die boeke wat geresenseer word dié van manlike skrywer is.   Peter Stothard, die redakteur van The Times Literary Supplement, het die volgende daarop gesê:  "I'm not too appalled by our figure, as I'd be very surprised if the authorship of published books was 50/50. And while women are heavy readers, we know they are heavy readers of the kind of fiction that is not likely to be reviewed in the pages of the TLS." Hy insinueer dus dat vroue slegs ontspanningsliteratuur lees en dat dit nie die gravitas dra wat die TLS verwag nie.  Enige kommentaar hierop?
Helene: Wel dit gebeur. Dis 'n feit. Vroue word steeds oor die hoof gesien. Dis vreemd dat dit op die gebied van die letterkunde so baie gebeur en dit terwyl daar in die landbou toeka al geleerde vroue as direkteure aangestel is. Vroue word presidente van vakverenigings en hulle word gerespekteer. En wat gravitas betref, ek lag vir mense wat dink dat vroulike liefdesverhaalskrywers nie gravitas het nie.
Nadia: Ek het nie syfers byderhand nie, en ek weet ook nie waar Peter Strothard die syfers vandaan kry om sy stelling te onderskryf nie.  Sy opmerking klink vir my gevaarlik na aan seksisme en ek hoop die lesers van sy koerant het kapsie teen sy uitspraak gemaak.  Die vroue in my vriendekring, sowel as in my familie, lees beslis nie net ontspanningsliteratuur nie.  Ek dink as mens na boekklubs en leeskringe se leeslyste kyk, soos ek van tyd tot tyd doen, sal jy saamstem.
Madri: In Suid-Afrika lyk die prentjie dalk nie heeltemal so sleg soos die geval van die TLS nie.  Dink julle dat vroue skrywers oor die algemeen hier beter hanteer word in boekeblaaie? 
Helene: Moontlik, ja. Maar jy vra ons nou om in warm water te spring.
Madri: En wat van ontspanningsliteratuur?  Is daar genoeg resensies?  Helene?
Helene: Nee, daar is nie genoeg nie. Ek het geen antwoord daarop nie. Dis nie in my hande nie. Ek besef dat spasie dalk  'n probleem kan wees.
Madri: Nadia, dink jy resensies – en méér resensies dan – sal die verkope van chick-lit in Suid-Afrika opstoot?
Nadia: Ek is nie oortuig daarvan dat resensies die tipe boeke wat ek skryf se verkope regtig so vreeslik aanhelp nie. Ek dink wel die regte bemarking sal verkope opstoot.  Ek sou graag meer out of the box-denke wil sien, soos Nollybooks nou doen.  Hulle neem hul chick lit, wat op die swart mark gerig is, na die townships deur bv agente aan te stel wat die boeke verkoop. Amper soos Tupperware, die produkte is net sexier.  Hierdie boeke is modern en sexy  en die bemarking behoort dieselfde te wees.  En dis so 'n wonderlike geleentheid om mense aan die lees te kry.
Nollybooks kyk ook na advertensies om die koste van boeke te help dra en ook om boeke meer bekostigbaar te maak.  Ek het die kwessie van advertensies in Heildronk aangeraak en ook oor moontlike persepsies gepraat. Ek dink advertensies op die boeke self kan werk, maar dit moet stylvol gedoen word. Mens kan lekker speel met die logo's en die tipe boek, of die actual boek, waarmee jy te doen het.  Ervare bemarkers en grafiese kunstenaars sal hier hul magic behoorlik kan werk.   Ek dink sommige literêre skrywers sal flou neerslaan by die gedagte aan 'n advertensie iewers op 'n boek van hulle, maar wat my aanbetref is dit 'n geval van die boeke is meer bekostigbaar en meer lesers word bereik.  En daarmee het ek geensins 'n probleem nie.
In die laaste plek sou dit  vir my byvoorbeeld ideaal gewees het om die genre te bemark, eerder as die individuele boeke.  Ek voel byvoorbeeld dat my en Marida se boeke saam bemark kon gewees het, Kristel en Marion s'n – of so iets.  Die genre het Afrikaans amper onopgemerk binnegekom en gaan as genre 'n stil dood sterf as die bemarking nie nuutgemaak word nie.
Madri: Gepraat van bemarking:  Helene, dink jy daar word genoeg gedoen om die liefdesroman te bemark?
Helene: Nee, ek dink nie so nie maar ek besef ook dat uitgewerye werklik nie alles kan doen nie. Daar is eenvoudig nie fondse nie. Ek dink die skrywers moet self inspring en bemark in die vorm van die sosiale media - Facebook –profiele, webwerwe en so aan. Deesdae is die inligtingstegnologie werklik 'n groot hulpmiddel. Ek kry wonderlike terugvoer op my webwerf, die adres verskyn op die agterblaaie van my boeke. Daar is natuurlik ook praatjies by Leeskringe.
Madri: So, Helene, waarvoor moet 'n mens kyk wanneer jy 'n goeie liefdesroman soek?  Wat maak 'n liefdesroman werklik tegnies goed?
Helene: Ek dink toeganklikheid, en nou moet mens nie toeganklik met dom verwar nie, het Jeanne Goossen gesê. M.a.w. 'n lekker, soepel en gladde unieke skryfstyl wat die leser dadelik innooi en interesseer.
Geloofwaardige karakters.
'n Helder ruimte. Ruimte: die karakters se konkrete blyplek, huis werk, ens. maar ook die karakters se drome, herinneringe, religieuse oortuigings, sosiale stand, politieke oortuigings. Eintlik net mooi alles waarmee die mens in die werklikheid ook te doen kry. Dit moet GOED uitgebeeld word.
Daar moet 'n storie wees. 'n Goeie storie. 'n Tema en 'n storie is twee verskillende dinge.  Egskeiding is 'n tema maar dis nog nie 'n storie nie en as jy daaroor wil skryf moet jy oppas dat dit nie 'n gekarring om dieselfde as word nie. Dan is dit moontlik 'n gevallestudie.Loop lig vir die idee dat daar glans aan skryf verbonde is. Skryf is werk. Punt.
Madri: Helene, watter raad sal jy dus vir 'n skrywer gee wat 'n liefdesroman wil skryf?
Helene: 'n Skrywer, enige skrywer, moet mense ken en verstaan. Anders kan jy nie jou karakters verstaan nie.
Leer jou karakters baie goed ken voordat jy begin skryf. Jy moet als van die karakters weet. Hul geboorte, waar hulle skoolgegaan het, wie hul ma en pa en grootouers was, hul familie, hul voorkeure en styl, ens. Selfs al gebruik jy nie al die gegewens n die storie nie, moet jy dit ken anders gaan die karakters nie goed oorkom nie.
Jy moet in die liefde glo. Ek glo daarin, miskien omdat ek gelukkig getroud is. Ek het ook al baie swaar gekry, maar ek weet geluk is net so werklik soos ongeluk. Ek ken baie mense wat gelukkig getroud is, al is nie een van hulle met 'n engel getroud nie. Jy moet die wese van die huwelik ken en verstaan. Nie onrealistiese verwagtinge hê nie. Baie bid.
Verder dink ek 'n skrywer moet self emosioneel volwasse word. Hennie Aucamp het gesê dis nie soseer taalkundig wat mense moet groei nie, maar hul emosies moet opgevoed word.Weet dat skryf nie 'n stokperdjie is nie. Dis harde, harde werk wat jy en net jy heeltemal alleen doen.
Madri: Nadia, het jy raad vir die skryf van 'n chick-lit?  En wie is jou gunsteling-skrywers wat jy vir die gehoor kan aanbeveel?
Nadia: Ek dink die standaard-raad is om baie te lees, veral in die genre.  Koop ook 'n boek soos See Jane Write, wat die vereistes van chick lit bespreek maar wees ook bewus daarvan dat hierdie genre se grense redelik vaag is, veral in vergelyking met ander genre's s'n  – iets wat jy tot jou voordeel kan gebruik.  
Doen 'n bietjie navorsing op die Internet; jy sal gou sien watter skrywer se werk jou nie gaan aanstaan nie.  My gunstelingskrywer is Marian Keyes.  Ek hou van haar Ierse wit en ek dink lesers kan identifiseer met die tema's wat sy aanspreek. Sy is 'n meester in die meng van ongemaklike, selfs skokkende tema's, met humor en karakters waarvan die leser baie gou baie hou. 
Madri: In Heildronk op 'n gypsyromp dans Mieke, die hoofkarakter, gereeld iPod in die ore met haar gypsyromp aan in die privaatheid van haar kamer.  Waarna luister sy?
Nadia: Wanneer sy dans luister sy na regte gypsymusiek, soos Taraf de Haidouks, met hul vyftien lede wat viole, simbale en akkordeon speel, of na opgewekte tradisionele Ierse musiek, soos Sharon Shannon en haar band s'n.  Mieke is 'n volslae romantikus en ek dink wanneer sy nie dans nie, luister sy na romantiese Coldplay, hartstogtelike Jan Blohm en sielvolle Collective Soul.
Madri: Helene, in Somersneeu speel musiek nie so 'n groot rol soos by Nadia se boek nie.  Maar ek is getref deur die visuele detail van die verhaal, die Vrystaatse landskap word só goed geteken dat dit lewendig word vir 'n leser – al was jy self nog nie daar nie.  Reis jy self na die plekke waaroor jy skryf?  En dink jy dit is belangrik om te skryf oor 'n plek wat vir jou bekend is?
Helene: Ja, ek dink dis baie belangrik om oor plekke te skryf wat vir mens bekend is. Ek het jare lank in die Oos-Vrystaat gewoon en kom daar sedert ek 'n kind was. Ek kom ook baie dikwels in die Kaap en het ook as kind baie hier gekom. Verder reis ek graag saam met my man. Ek het al die plekke besoek wat in my romans figureer. Ek was byvoorbeeld 'n paar maal in die Loire Vallei in Frankryk. So tel 'n skrywer die atmosfeer van 'n plek op. Van feite kan mens jou later vergewis. In Somersneeu is daar ook sprake van die baie fossiele waaraan die Oos-Vrystaat ryk is. Ek het ook gaan kers opsteek by die bekende geoloog/paleontoloog dr. Gideon Groenewald van Clarens. Hy het my baie vertel oor opgrawings van skelette van dinosourusse – een nog met sy ontbyt in sy maag. Interessante detail is vir my nogal belangrik in enige boek en daarby skep dit ruimte en atmosfeer. O ja, en daar is werklik baie holkranse suid van Bethlehem. Gedurende die Anglo-Boereoorlog het vroue en kinders daarin geskuil. Dis 'n feit. Vandag word daar dikwels pieknieks daarin gehou. Ek en my gesin was dikwels deel van sulke pieknieks hoog bo in die berge waar skaap en os op spitte gebraai is. Heerlik.