It’s an adventure, Harry

Background first.  In the movie version of Mamma Mia (which the children have watched too many times to count) there is a scene where the three possible dads are staying in the goat house owned by Meryl Streep’s character, whose name I just can’t remember right now.  And having lost my compulsion to always get everything perfectly right, I won’t Google that and edit the post.  I am going to spend all night tossing and turning trying to remember, but that’s just me.**  During this scene Harry (very straightlaced) proposes that they return to the boat.  Bill then tells Harry in a long suffering tone “It’s an adventure, Harry”.

Either way.  Last night was the semi-final of the 2010 FIFA world cup.  The Netherlands beat Uruguay 3-2.  It was the last game to be played in Cape Town and Wouter and I decided that, even though we didn’t have tickets to the game, we would do the fan walk.  It is 2.4km from Cape Town railway station to Cape Town stadium in Greenpoint. 

More accurately, as I was waiting for my chiro appointment, I got the idea of going into my head and as soon as I got to the car I phoned and informed Wouter of what was going to happen.  Poor bloke, having to put up with a wife like me. 

By the time I got home I already arranged with my folks to watch the children.  Wouter wasn’t very excited.  In fact, he was downright negative about, amongst other things, the traffic that he thought we were going to encounter.  He did not think I was of sound mind when I told him that we weren’t going to drive – we were going to *sound the ominous music* Take The Train*. 

While waiting for the third train (the first two were canceled) Wouter was NOT a happy camper.  Whereupon I looked at him and told him in a long suffering voice “It’s an adventure, Harry”!  So from there on we considered everything to be an adventure.  It is amazing how much more lenient one is when you tackle life with an adventurous attitude.

The train ride was a pleasant surprise.  The festive mood was over everyone and most everyone wore something orange, supporting the Netherlands.  Uruguay muscled Ghana, the last African team, out of the quarter final in a severely questionable way and payback was due.  It took 45 minutes to get from our local station (about 1km from our home) to the city – about the same time it would take to drive when there isn’t traffic.

The walk itself was like being carried along in a sea of orange.  The streets were all decorated and it looked like 2.4km of party.  We had hotdogs at R30 each.  Considering that it is usually R10 each you can imagine the heartburn it caused going down!  🙂  It was all good though.

We got back on the train at 21:15 – the game was still on and we followed it on Wouter’s cellphone.  It was no surprise that the first train, ours, would be packed to capacity and that a lot of people would have to wait for later trains.  Good thing we got on early.  By 22:15 the train was packed.  Obviously we weren’t the only smarty pants around.  And then Wouter had a nap on my shoulder until 23:00 when our train finally left, leaving hordes of people waiting for the next train.  We had to take the Wellington train to get home.  By the time we got off at our station there were only about 10 people left in the coach.  I wonder if anyone actually went all the way to Wellington…

In total it was a lot of fun and I would do it again at the drop of a hat. 

And Harry had an adventure. 


*Public transport in South Africa has a bad reputation.  So being typical middle class we’ve avoided like the plague.  There was a lot of changes in the quality of service and safety recently.  Or so they tell me.

**Donna.  Her name is Donna.


6 Responses

  1. You have such a way with words. Now I feel like I`ve experience the adventure too.

  2. Bly julle het dit geniet. Ja, nee, ons gesin probeer ook gewoonlik as stormwind die tentpale breek, of SAL stuur jou bagasie die wêreld vol, of die kar het 4 pap wiele dit as ‘n avontuur sien. Die probleem is ewe groot, maar mens kan darem nog lag en agterna ‘n sage daarvan maak.

  3. Glad you walked on the WILD side!!!

  4. I had to share this one…

    A woman, renewing her driver’s licence, was asked by the woman at
    Registry to state her occupation.
    She hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself.
    ‘What I mean is, ‘ explained the woman at Registry,
    ‘do you have a job or are you just a …?’
    ‘Of course I have a job,’ snapped the woman.
    ‘I’m a Mum.’
    ‘We don’t list ‘Mum’ as an occupation, ‘housewife’ covers it,’ Said
    the recorder emphatically.

    I forgot all about her story until one day I found myself in the same
    The Clerk was obviously a career woman, poised, efficient, and
    possessed of a high sounding title like, ‘Official Interrogator’ or
    ‘City Registrar.’
    ‘What is your occupation?’ she probed.
    What made me say it? I do not know. The words simply popped out.
    ‘I’m a Research Associate in the field of Child Development and Human
    The clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen in midair and looked up as
    though she had not heard right.
    I repeated the title slowly emphasizing the most significant words.
    Then I stared with wonder as my pronouncement was written, in bold,
    black ink on the official questionnaire.
    ‘Might I ask,’ said the clerk with new interest,’just what you do in
    your field?’
    Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice, I heard myself
    reply, ‘I have a continuing program of research, (what mother doesn’t)
    In the laboratory and in the field, (normally I would have said
    indoors and out).
    I’m working for my Masters, (first the Lord and then the whole family)
    and already have four credits (all daughters).
    Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities,
    (any mother care to disagree?) and I often work 14 hours a day, (24 is
    more like it).
    But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers and
    the rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money.’
    There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk’s voice as she
    completed the form, stood up, and personally ushered me to the door.
    As I drove into our driveway, buoyed up by my glamorous new career, I
    was greeted by my lab assistants — ages 13, 7, and 3.
    Upstairs I could hear our new experimental model, (a 6 month old baby)
    in the child development program, testing out a new vocal pattern.
    I felt I had scored a beat on bureaucracy!
    And I had gone on the official records as someone more distinguished
    and indispensable to mankind than ‘just another Mum.’

    What a glorious career!
    Especially when there’s a title on the door.

    Does this make grandmothers ‘Senior Research associates in the field
    of Child Development and Human Relations’
    And great grandmothers ‘Executive Senior Research Associates?’
    I think so!!!
    I also think it makes Aunts ‘Associate Research Assistants.

  5. The whole experience was great hey! We did it with our kids, my parents and Lynne and Deon on Tuesday as well , but from 13h00 until 16h30 in the afternoon. And then already the fans were unbelievable. Poor Uraguay had no chance! We only saw 6 Light Blue Supporters all afternoon – the Orange was every where !!!!

  6. That sounds just great!

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