Getaway

I find the part of “rebuilding my life” extremely difficult. As I said before, I was too much blinded by the Love thing than actually thinking what the hell should I do here. I thought everything would be a piece of cake. Hmmm..

However, there is one big gain to it, except looking at my wonderful husband’s pretty face every morning while cuddling: I’ve given up my previous life, but I gained a more “outdoor-ish” perspective. When you live in a big city, having big money to go out, the best car or the best pair of shoes are part of the show, but here, in Pretoria, apart from the nightlife or shopping where you can show your sexy side – and your wallet - there is more than meets the eye though.

Since I’ve been here, every weekend brings me sides of life I never knew before. First, it’s the braais, quite often but so not boring. People have the same energy every time, they’re discussing various topics at a nice roasted meal. In February we had a special Valentine’s Day with Johan and his wife Anel. We decided on a braai on the Pretoria’s university sports grounds, away from the hearts and valentines and shopping sprees (well, I must admit I gave my Ricky a Valentine – just to have some fun).

Then, for the first time in my life, I went fishing in the next weekends, each time discovering another lake – they call them dams over here. I was introduced to this “fishy experience” by one of Ricky’s best mates, Andre, who loves his outdoor escapes and is clearly a fan of boating and fishing, otherwise he wouldn’t have that collection of colourful baits.

However, I wasn’t so quick at catching my pray at Roodeplaat Dam, but away from Pretoria, at Valkop Dam, I finally had my revenge and posed next to my victim – small fish, but at least now I know I can fish – an ambitious goal for a lady – should I mention that I was the only girl there? Clearly, the other girlfriends and wives don’t embrace fishing as I do. The truth is, I’m almost always the only girl among the guys, but I can’t complain here. Guys are funny.

Last weekend we had Ryn, my brother in law and Rick’s younger brother, coming to visit us in Pretoria. He’s only twenty and stays with my in-laws in Ngodwana, a small residential area at 50 km from Nelspruit. We went out for a lavish meal at The Dros, a restaurant that looks more like a wine cellar, dark but in the same time warm and intimate – must be the candles on the table and the huge antique lamps. Then, drinks at Billy the Bum’s, a hip club where the music itself is a crowd pleaser, not only the cocktails, was the perfect choice for a Friday night. Needless to say, a braai was on the list too. What could be more South African when someone pops at your door?

But this weekend reminded me of my first weeks here in late December. Ricky felt the urge to gamble again – this time not in Nelspruit, but at Emperor’s Palace, a place that brings together fine restaurants, entertainment areas and of course, a huge casino you won’t want to leave any sooner. And that’s because you always find in your pocket some money to start with.

Firstly, let me assure you that we’re not big fans of gambling. We just like to go home with a profit from while to while – the chances are bigger anyway than getting that promotion and extra money after begging your boss. If we break-even and even get an extra cash, we just stop and cash it right away. There’s no point in being stubborn and play until you lose everything or even play thousands. I wouldn’t bare the loss of thousands – imagine how many pairs of boots or bags I could have bought instead with that money.

So, we just played 300 rands, which means around 25 euros. Luckily, we are enough cautious and lucky to multiply them by gambling on colour more than numbers. We doubled the initial investment and, although I wanted to reach 1000 rands, Ricky said it’s time to cash our 700. Most of it will go for savings, of course, he said, while I was imagining myself with new high-heels. But I know savings would be a better option for us.

You see, all this leads to the money issue. We are rich, comparing to 90% of African population who lives on under one dollar a day. Put like that, I can’t complain – I think I’m not allowed to when I know there are a lot of souls dying of hunger. We have food on our tables, we have a place to stay – although rented, but not everyone can afford even this small cozy house – we have a warm bed to sleep in. We are grateful for that.

A detailed look at our finances would just scream for more. Bills are paid successfully, but then you can’t just agree with the level of savings. It’s like any worker’s worst nightmare, supposing he has to pay alone his bills. When I was working for Wall-Street, the money were just used for spending and savings, so I couldn’t complain, but if I had to pay the bills, instead of receiving my parents’ help, that would have been a different picture.

So here we are, Ricky working his ass to cover our standard living requirements, while I’m responsible for buying food, furniture for home and some entertainment treats or getaways from the money I brought with me – my cushion so far.

However, my cushion is not a “never-ending story”. Which is why I feel guilty whenever I shop for clothes or beauty products. I mean, guilt and pleasure. Don’t cast stones at me, I’m not trying to give that impression of having millions in my account (well, maybe a bit), I just like to indulge myself in treats once in a while – read monthly instead of while.

I’m not shopping as often as I do, but when I hit the stores, I can’t just go home empty-handed. I’ve invested so far in a black sexy LBD (I already had one, but who cares), a nice black waistcoat – so versatile, you can get a sharp look in no time and jeans. Oooh, yeees, did I mention the M.A.C Hello Kitty Limited Edition range? I’ve almost got the entire collection – I would have got it all if it wasn’t for those “sold out” items. I knew I had to get it.

I’ve spent more than half an hour at the M.A.C counter savoring the beautiful colours and textures. I even got friendly with Peaceful, the funky black make-up artist who convinced me quite easily how fab the eye shadows complement my olive skin. Clearly, Peaceful deserves his name – he’s so calm and patient with every shopaholic lady who thinks the cute pink Hello Kitty lipstick is a must-have this season. Yes, it is!

Peaceful thinks I look beautiful. In fact, that’s his job. But he is firmly convinced that Romanian girls are hot. It’s a fact even here, in South Africa. “Thanks man, I’ll meet my husband later!” I said to my Peaceful guy, who was clearly more a Will Smith type of man – only bit darker- with nice features and braided hair hidden under a cap that looked most like a French beret.

I knew I shouldn’t have said that. What about the flirting, man? Just kidding. The world needs to know that I’m married and my husband is hot – the ring helps me a lot. People don’t even wait for me to say it – they look down to my hands – that’s why I have to get perfect French manicure all the time – and ask, some with sadness in their voices, “are you married?” Well “yeeeeees” and I know I can’t get any more flirting than that. But seriously, I don’t mind, I’ve got my husband to get cheeky with.

So, shopping is my other getaway from reality and it feels nice when it lasts longer. At home, guilt comes for a while, but when I try my new “conquests” I know it was worth every penny. And I even convinced Ricky to see “Confessions of A Shopaholic” with me, just to shout at him “see, it can be worse, I don’t even have credit cards and I will never use that anyway to pay for clothes”. But I must say I liked the main character – at least she was honest with herself in the end.

But still, money must be spent cautious – can’t replace it now so easily. Which bring us to the next question I’m trying to find an answer since I’ve got here: “Why don’t you get a job?”.