Okay, so it's not about Carbon Dating as such; it's more about online dating - but there really is a dating site called Carbon Dating, for those of you in Oz, the U.K, the U.S.A. and Canada; and apparently it's not only for fossils and relics. For us locals, there's the ever-popular DatingBuzz, amongst others (link provided below this entry for your convenience!)
On the other hand, for those "gogos" and insects I've heard about who frequent these sites, try Alaska or Siberia. No links provided; board a plane. Just take shorts and sandals with you. October to March would be a good time.
Judging by some of the stories I've heard from women, the insect population of Alaska and Siberia is set to explode. On the International dating scene, I've heard of sewage posing as bouquets and local girls finding themselves trapped in foreign countries under very unpleasant circumstances. I have no doubt that these stories are true. What I would like to hear about are the success stories as well.
I can see that they should work, if one is careful and uses some basic common sense. I would imagine that meeting people in bars can be a pretty dangerous enterprise. Not only are your prospects also posing, but the danger of your getting tanked up and losing your judgement is a pretty powerful likelihood. (Not to mention the dangers of the drive back home.)
Online dating has become a huge part of our culture. (Cliche, I know.) From what I have seen browsing the sites, a lot of people seem to spend a long time listed there, which suggests to me that despite the garbage involved, people are having a lot of fun "dating", for the sake of it, until the right one comes along.
I know that there are probably a million sites talking about this subject, but why don't you drop off some comments to this site too, with your experiences ?
Monday, 26 March 2007
Tuesday, 20 March 2007
Home Affairs
You feel ....well, all "mushy". That certain someone is on your mind just ALL the time. You stare at your computer screen because you know there's something your boss expects you to be doing there, but all you can see is the image in your mind. Your fingers twitch as they remember the soft, warm flesh of the one you love. Ah, that word. "Love". Your breath catches at the thought of it. That word was just MADE for the two of you. You smile and some idiot in the office asks you what's funny. You don't deign to answer; you point vaguely to your screen and shrug, then hunch over your keyboard to look busy so that he or she will go away. You sigh .... this is the ONE. You become vaguely aware that your hands are damp. So are your armpits. Your throat is dry. You don't care. Life is wonderful.
Summer becomes autumn - and you don't care about that either. Autumn is pretty too. Romantic. So is winter. A June wedding. Ah, what could be better! And it's all true. It's actually happening!
Then the moment comes. You take the day off work to go and apply for .... the marriage licence! Yes, Yes, YES! It's REAL!
And you find that you're already married.
Some illegal immigrant has bribed someone (perish the thought - in OUR country?) to marry you on paper to legalize his sojourn under our sunny skies. You have a name you cannot pronounce and a husband you don't want to visualize. Crash.
I remember such an incident specifically, some years ago - and many others have been reported in the media. So serious was the matter, in fact, that the Department of Home Affairs created a place on their website where people can check their marital staus online. Interested? If you think you're single, perhaps you'd better check www.homeaffairs.gov.za/status/marital_status.asp to see if they agree.
Good luck.
But, hey, don't worry. Be happy. Remember - you're proudly Safrican! Why shouldn't you be? Some guy thinks that's important enough to marry you sight unseen and make no demands on you. Just to also be Proudly Safrican! Cool, hey?
Summer becomes autumn - and you don't care about that either. Autumn is pretty too. Romantic. So is winter. A June wedding. Ah, what could be better! And it's all true. It's actually happening!
Then the moment comes. You take the day off work to go and apply for .... the marriage licence! Yes, Yes, YES! It's REAL!
And you find that you're already married.
Some illegal immigrant has bribed someone (perish the thought - in OUR country?) to marry you on paper to legalize his sojourn under our sunny skies. You have a name you cannot pronounce and a husband you don't want to visualize. Crash.
I remember such an incident specifically, some years ago - and many others have been reported in the media. So serious was the matter, in fact, that the Department of Home Affairs created a place on their website where people can check their marital staus online. Interested? If you think you're single, perhaps you'd better check www.homeaffairs.gov.za/status/marital_status.asp to see if they agree.
Good luck.
But, hey, don't worry. Be happy. Remember - you're proudly Safrican! Why shouldn't you be? Some guy thinks that's important enough to marry you sight unseen and make no demands on you. Just to also be Proudly Safrican! Cool, hey?
Monday, 19 March 2007
Picking a School
A couple of weeks ago - so it seemed - there was great excitement about my little daughter going to "Big School". Who could forget such excitement? Now, suddenly, it's seven years later and time to look for a high school for next year!
What happened to the weeks, months, years? I found them in my bathroom mirror, etched in my face. I heard the sound of them, creaking in my knees. I felt the rush of them escaping from my wallet. I found the PRIDE of them reflecting on my "little" girl's face.
She's not "little" anymore. When did she start talking of things like politics, morality and current affairs so knowledgeably? When did she develop the skills she has? When did boys become my Enemy No.1? I guess time flies when every day is a brand new challenge and there's little time to reflect on its passage. Raising children in today's world, especially in the cities, doesn't give us a choice of the pace. Every day WILL provide challenges that can seldom be postponed.
(Groan. Why can't I live in George or Knysna? Or Great Brak River?)
Anyway, I found a couple of websites about schools, in case you're interested: www.schoolguide.co.za and www.saschools.co.za
Oh, and if you're also groaning and looking longingly into the future, why not feast your eyes on www.gardenroute.org - or even www.george.co.za or www.greatbrakriver.co.za
What happened to the weeks, months, years? I found them in my bathroom mirror, etched in my face. I heard the sound of them, creaking in my knees. I felt the rush of them escaping from my wallet. I found the PRIDE of them reflecting on my "little" girl's face.
She's not "little" anymore. When did she start talking of things like politics, morality and current affairs so knowledgeably? When did she develop the skills she has? When did boys become my Enemy No.1? I guess time flies when every day is a brand new challenge and there's little time to reflect on its passage. Raising children in today's world, especially in the cities, doesn't give us a choice of the pace. Every day WILL provide challenges that can seldom be postponed.
(Groan. Why can't I live in George or Knysna? Or Great Brak River?)
Anyway, I found a couple of websites about schools, in case you're interested: www.schoolguide.co.za and www.saschools.co.za
Oh, and if you're also groaning and looking longingly into the future, why not feast your eyes on www.gardenroute.org - or even www.george.co.za or www.greatbrakriver.co.za
Candy, Officer?
I was stopped at a roadblock near Kyalami one day, on the way to Centurion. My daughter must have been ten at the time. She watched wide-eyed while the traffic officer checked the disc on my windscreen, then checked it in his little hand-held machine. "What did you do, what did you do?" she asked fearfully. Very business-like, and probably very tired by then, the officer asked me for my driver's licence.
While I scratched for it in my wallet, a little arm stretched across me, hand held out with a sweet (candy) in the palm. I looked up in surprize and passed the licence to the officer. My daughter had her most winning smile etched on her perturbed little face. "Would you like a sweet, Officer?"
Somewhat surprized, he looked at her doubtfully. Her smile stayed fixed and the hand remained outstretched. He glanced at my licence, then handing the licence back, he reached for the sweet. "Thank you," he said, adding hastily, "but it's not going to help your father..."
"Is he in trouble?" she asked, panic growing, "Is it going to cost money?"
"Well......." he hesitated, beginning to enjoy it.
She swung around to her brother in the back seat. "Quickly," she ordered urgently, "give me three more sweets!"
Well, the officer burst out laughing, then re-assured her quickly that I wasn't in any trouble. "You have lovely children," he said as he sent me on my way.
The last impression in my rear view mirror was of a uniformed tummy still shaking helplessly with laughter!
Thank Heavens for the lighter moments.
Officer, if ever you read this - thank you the way you handled it. You made my day!
(If you are in the Johannesburg area, you can check online for outstanding traffic fines at www.joburg.org.za Save yourself the trauma of being carted away at a roadblock, particularly if you have kids in the car, by being forwarned and up to date.)
While I scratched for it in my wallet, a little arm stretched across me, hand held out with a sweet (candy) in the palm. I looked up in surprize and passed the licence to the officer. My daughter had her most winning smile etched on her perturbed little face. "Would you like a sweet, Officer?"
Somewhat surprized, he looked at her doubtfully. Her smile stayed fixed and the hand remained outstretched. He glanced at my licence, then handing the licence back, he reached for the sweet. "Thank you," he said, adding hastily, "but it's not going to help your father..."
"Is he in trouble?" she asked, panic growing, "Is it going to cost money?"
"Well......." he hesitated, beginning to enjoy it.
She swung around to her brother in the back seat. "Quickly," she ordered urgently, "give me three more sweets!"
Well, the officer burst out laughing, then re-assured her quickly that I wasn't in any trouble. "You have lovely children," he said as he sent me on my way.
The last impression in my rear view mirror was of a uniformed tummy still shaking helplessly with laughter!
Thank Heavens for the lighter moments.
Officer, if ever you read this - thank you the way you handled it. You made my day!
(If you are in the Johannesburg area, you can check online for outstanding traffic fines at www.joburg.org.za Save yourself the trauma of being carted away at a roadblock, particularly if you have kids in the car, by being forwarned and up to date.)
But what's the country's name?
1985, A boarding house in Athens, Greece. I was spending a few days there en route to London after a few years in Israel. Sharing my lodgings were three super Egyptian guys who were headed back to Cairo from a holiday in Turkey. Our conversation was struck up when they saw my snorkling gear - and we launched into an animated discussion of the joys of snorkling in the various places we'd been to, including the Red Sea.
After some hours one of them asked me if I was in any particular hurry to get to London.
"No," I replied expectantly, sensing some possible adventure.
"Then," he beamed, "you will come back to Egypt with us!"
His friends concurred enthusiastically. "You will LOVE Egypt! We will show you everything!" They all talked at once - what we would do, what we would see......Clearly, they loved their country and were very proud of it. My heart leapt. What an opportunity! Then it sank.
"I would love to, but I can't. I am a South African, travelling on a South African passport."They looked at me blankly.
"So?"
"We are not allowed into Egypt..."
"Why not?"
I was surprized. I'd expected an immediate resentment, but they looked genuinely puzzled.
"Because we have a policy called Apartheid and we are banned from many countries, including Egypt."
It made no impression on them.
"What is this .... this thing you said? Why are you banned?"
I gave them a brief, unemotional, overview of what it was about.
"But how can such a thing be? What is your country's name?"
"South Africa."
"Yes, I understand, but what is the country's name?"
"South Africa." No recognition. "The Republic of South Africa. That is the country's name."
They shook their heads. Southern Africa was just a remote region to them. Relief flooded over me. I liked them. I had been dreading the usual reaction to the mention of my homeland.
"But what if we say we invited you? " They perked up.
I shook my head regretfully. "I'm afraid it won't help. I am sorry. Truly, truly sorry. I would love to come with you, but ...... Well, things are beginning to change. Perhaps one day it will be different."
Things certainly did change. The magical words "Nelson Mandela" filled the globe and everybody's hearts.
My daughter was born in mid-1994, a child of the new nation. She learns about Apartheid in history. ("What was it like in the Olden Days? Were you a part of all that?")
I guess my Egyptian friends know where we are now. Sadly, I never did get to see Egypt.
For more information about Apartheid, go to www.apartheidmuseum.org/supplements/
After some hours one of them asked me if I was in any particular hurry to get to London.
"No," I replied expectantly, sensing some possible adventure.
"Then," he beamed, "you will come back to Egypt with us!"
His friends concurred enthusiastically. "You will LOVE Egypt! We will show you everything!" They all talked at once - what we would do, what we would see......Clearly, they loved their country and were very proud of it. My heart leapt. What an opportunity! Then it sank.
"I would love to, but I can't. I am a South African, travelling on a South African passport."They looked at me blankly.
"So?"
"We are not allowed into Egypt..."
"Why not?"
I was surprized. I'd expected an immediate resentment, but they looked genuinely puzzled.
"Because we have a policy called Apartheid and we are banned from many countries, including Egypt."
It made no impression on them.
"What is this .... this thing you said? Why are you banned?"
I gave them a brief, unemotional, overview of what it was about.
"But how can such a thing be? What is your country's name?"
"South Africa."
"Yes, I understand, but what is the country's name?"
"South Africa." No recognition. "The Republic of South Africa. That is the country's name."
They shook their heads. Southern Africa was just a remote region to them. Relief flooded over me. I liked them. I had been dreading the usual reaction to the mention of my homeland.
"But what if we say we invited you? " They perked up.
I shook my head regretfully. "I'm afraid it won't help. I am sorry. Truly, truly sorry. I would love to come with you, but ...... Well, things are beginning to change. Perhaps one day it will be different."
Things certainly did change. The magical words "Nelson Mandela" filled the globe and everybody's hearts.
My daughter was born in mid-1994, a child of the new nation. She learns about Apartheid in history. ("What was it like in the Olden Days? Were you a part of all that?")
I guess my Egyptian friends know where we are now. Sadly, I never did get to see Egypt.
For more information about Apartheid, go to www.apartheidmuseum.org/supplements/
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