Space to Breathe (Plus Giraffes)
(This was written about two weeks ago but I've been without internet! I'll hopefully post soon about my time exploring the Makhanda Arts Festival.)
It is often hard to get a chance to take a breath at Waterford. Life usually progresses at a frenetic pace and we have to run to keep up or risk getting run over. My friends and I were joking that there's no relaxation time - you're working or you're sleeping. It's a weird phenomenon here, that it's nearly physically impossible to relax, because if you're not concentrating on something, you fall asleep. If conversation flags a bit if you're spending time with someone, it's not unusual to just fall asleep on each other. Unintentional naps are a bit of an issue.
This past weekend, my friend from New Zealand invited me and another friend to spend the weekend with her link at a game reserve a few hours from the school. We were staying at a ranger's house and there were dogs, a shady lawn, a bench swing, a stone pizza oven. The evening we arrived, we went out in the game viewer and watched the sun set as we sat on the top of a rocky bluff, a lazy branching river sparkling 100m below us. On the way back in the dark, we startled a small cluster of giraffes, their long legs visible in the headlights of the vehicle. The smell of the potato bush rose above the dust of the road - a strange, small bush that has night blooming flowers which smell inexplicably of mashed potatoes.
That night we made pizzas and salad with a bunch of fresh local avacados. The peacefulness was strange. The next morning we were up early to head back out in the game viewer. It was warm - once the sun came up a bit I was comfortable in a t-shirt and my fingers felt thawed out for the first time in a while. I had homework waiting at school that I needed to finish before midterm. I had the looming prospect of IAs and my 20 page director's notebook for theatre. I had a monologue to choose, French to study, English to review.
But that morning the sun was hot and the wind was gentle. I was reminded why I came here. The sugar cane was ready to be burnt and harvested and the sweet smell from previous days lingered in the air. The sound of the river soothed me, even though a good number of the ponds were home to large crocodiles. A baby giraffe and her mother watched us from the shade. A herd of zebras ran alongside us. There was carrot cake for breakfast. I was with friends who I love.
That afternoon the three of us fell asleep on the shady grass, the grass cool and the sun warmly filtering through the branches of a tall tree. The ranger's surprisingly cuddly anti-poaching dog fell asleep a few feet away.
Waterford can feel like a sacrifice at times. You give up a lot - home, freedom, privacy, free time. Some give up their language, their food, the rythms of home. But at times like these, when there is gentle joy and a peace in your day, it feels more like a blessing than anything else.
This past weekend, my friend from New Zealand invited me and another friend to spend the weekend with her link at a game reserve a few hours from the school. We were staying at a ranger's house and there were dogs, a shady lawn, a bench swing, a stone pizza oven. The evening we arrived, we went out in the game viewer and watched the sun set as we sat on the top of a rocky bluff, a lazy branching river sparkling 100m below us. On the way back in the dark, we startled a small cluster of giraffes, their long legs visible in the headlights of the vehicle. The smell of the potato bush rose above the dust of the road - a strange, small bush that has night blooming flowers which smell inexplicably of mashed potatoes.
That night we made pizzas and salad with a bunch of fresh local avacados. The peacefulness was strange. The next morning we were up early to head back out in the game viewer. It was warm - once the sun came up a bit I was comfortable in a t-shirt and my fingers felt thawed out for the first time in a while. I had homework waiting at school that I needed to finish before midterm. I had the looming prospect of IAs and my 20 page director's notebook for theatre. I had a monologue to choose, French to study, English to review.
But that morning the sun was hot and the wind was gentle. I was reminded why I came here. The sugar cane was ready to be burnt and harvested and the sweet smell from previous days lingered in the air. The sound of the river soothed me, even though a good number of the ponds were home to large crocodiles. A baby giraffe and her mother watched us from the shade. A herd of zebras ran alongside us. There was carrot cake for breakfast. I was with friends who I love.
That afternoon the three of us fell asleep on the shady grass, the grass cool and the sun warmly filtering through the branches of a tall tree. The ranger's surprisingly cuddly anti-poaching dog fell asleep a few feet away.
Waterford can feel like a sacrifice at times. You give up a lot - home, freedom, privacy, free time. Some give up their language, their food, the rythms of home. But at times like these, when there is gentle joy and a peace in your day, it feels more like a blessing than anything else.
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