USA and RSA

Since we have been in America, I have noticed a number of differences between South Africa and here. Some are quirky, some are funny and some are just plain weird. My top 10 so far, but have no fear, i'm very certain this might turn into a top 100.

1. Americans. 

They are super duper friendly and will always ask how you are doing and feel no qualms about calling you Pet, Baby Doll or Sweet Cheeks after having met you only once. Whilst in American culture this would be fine, this grumpy South African has a hard time trying to distinguish the difference between wanting to have an actual conversation or general politeness/over friendlyness. I struggle on a daily basis when at the check out at Publix as to whether I should just reply fine or tack on the obligatory "and you"... i'm afraid they might just answer and my ice cream would melt!

2. Kettles and toasters. 

They don't have either. Which by "they don't have" means they have something that does the same thing, just is not a kettle or toaster. It's a thing that looks like a kettle that is filled with water and then put on the stove to boil, no electric cable at all. And to make toast, put your slices of bread in the toaster oven, which is a very miniture version of a real oven but sits in the counter. Incidentally, whilst the toaster oven takes a while to make toasts, it i very handy for heating up other things like pizza slices and left overs you don't want the microwave to make soggy.

3. Driving. 

They drive on the wrong side of the road and sit on the wrong side of the car. And they drive too fast (which is saying something as a South African). 

4. Toilets. 

Whilst i'm not going to get into the details of bathroom etiquette and such, the toilet seats are weird. They have a gap at the front end which I originally thought was a feature for male bathroom seats (for obvious reasons), but these strange seats can be found in female bathrooms too... it's just plain weird. And the doors of the stalls open outwards. Maybe it's just me, but this seems weird too.

5. Pickles. 

They put them on EVERYTHING. And I mean everything. They are the side garnish for every meal, in each and every sandwich you order and come in about 700 billion different varieties. There is a entire section in the supermarket designated to them.  You even get banana pickles, they're yellow... obviously.

6. Preservatives. 

Also, like the pickles, they are in everything. Our bread and milk lasts 2 weeks. Which is a great cost saver and waste reducer, but it's also just not natural.

7. Corn. 

Almost as popular as pickles but in a different form. Cows are corn fed here, not grain fed. There is corn syrup in just about everything that tastes marginally sweet and when you buy meiles, they are either white or yellow (and are called corn on the cob, not meilies).

8. Shots. 

Every shot you order is basically a double. There is not such thing as a single shot which means there is no such thing as a headacheless morning the day after a party. Seriously, never ever order a double in America, you might die!

9. Beef jerky. 

It is not biltong, period.

10. Drive through ATM machines. 

They're genius and so handy. But i'm pretty sure it's self explanatory why SA doesn't have them. 

TOO MANY TOO'S/TWO'S!

I think it is safe to say that any iota of sanity my brain/body may have been clinging on to, has officially gone. The inability to move my legs this morning proves that. Maybe it is something in the water, maybe it is my own personal guilt rearing its ugly head or maybe it is my inherent fear of missing out that drives me to such lengths, whichever it may be (i'm going with the water), it must be stopped! To find myself crawling around the house ala Uma Thurman style, "wiggle your big toe", is really not a pretty sight. And the extent of the damaged is more like, "could anything below my belly button please twitch, yes? No?" And whilst I would like to say I have the patience to talk my limbs back into moving, don a sexy matching yellow tracksuit and blame everything on Bill, unfortunately there is only 1 idiot here, me! 

CHAPTER ONE: Killing the Cancer Sticks

This was done with great ease and panache. I woke up one morning, made a decision and the Gods made it happen. What actually happened was that  I was so sick one day that the sight of them made me so nauseous, they were completely dispensed with for what has now been 2 weeks. (Yippee!).  And whilst the ability to breath and taste has returned to 100% effectiveness, the brain is obviously still suffering the consequences of the years of tar and other unique ingredients these little evil sticks have to offer. Hence the decision.

CHAPTER TWO: The Decision

The decision was based on a number of factors previously listed above, namely the water. And with the new found ability to breath better it appeared to be a no brainer. So it was with these crucial aspects in mind that my brain convinced my fingers to begin the process of signing up for the P.A.L Half Marathon. It wasn't a difficult task either, with my obviously still malnourished brain leading the way from digital page to digital page and it's ability to retain numbers for the most important of occasions, the bank had my credit card details and I had an entry to the run! Without even getting off the couch (which I see now could have be a premonition of what was to come). 1 week to go, 1 half marathon entry and 4 months of non-existent training behind me... I was as calm as a hyperactive hamster on speed!

CHAPTER THREE: D-Day

4:30am on a beautifully cool Sunday morning, I hall my body (which at this stage can still move) out of the comfort of bed and commence the process that is ingrained in every runners head around the world, getting ready. As always, clothes, shoes and vaseline have been set out the night before in the order they will be put on, tied up and rubbed into. Car keys, cellphones, painkillers and emergency details have been carefully shrink wrapped to fit into the tiny runners sized secret pocket sewn into the waist band of shorts. One final once over and the experience of running begins. At this stage I am sure you are wondering why on earth I was up at 4:30 when the race only began at 6:35 and I will tell you. Firstly the race was in Boca Raton which is terms of distance from our safe haven is about a billion miles! Also, I wanted to give myself enough time to navigate the roads as the Americans drive on the wrong side of the road and car and the Floridians are just plain bad drivers. And last but not least, my brain wanted to get there before my limbs woke up so there was no possible way of backing out.

CHAPTER FOUR: The Race

All signed up, chip and number attached in the correct places and shivering in the utter blackness that was the start, we began. 21.1kms in the distance I could see my pancakes and syrup waiting. 18kms in the distance with lungs as fresh as daisies, my legs turned to concrete. And trust me, dragging 2 out of shape, concrete legs through 18kms of repetitive scenery is about as much fun as playing marco polo with a great white. Agonising and with little sign that you may in fact win the game. It was at about this point that my brain realized it's gigantic miscalculation of the events and gave me 2 options. Either stop and be ridiculed or continue and lie about your finishing time. Brilliant, the voice of reason has spoken once again and once again, a decision was made. Just keep running Crazii, and look at the bright side, at least you can breath! 

CHAPTER FIVE: The Finish

Finally with the end in sight and the vision of pancakes drenched in syrup returning, I turned the corner of the 20km marker to see the face and reinforcement of Prince Charming glowing in the morning sunlight! Whoopppeee! With a promise that the finish line was just around the next corner I gathered what strength I had left and dragged those concrete limbs over the finish line in a time of 2:02:02.  My second worse half marathon time and a lesson to my over zealous brain. TOO little time, way TOO little training and something never TO be repeated again!