The Shosholoza Meyl people turned out to be fairly competent – and capable of responding to email, which beats the DFA. But there seems to be some vagueness as to whether there are, in fact, sleeper carriages on the East London-Johannesburg run, or whether sitters (3rd class) are the only option. Given this and the fact that time is actually somewhat limited, I have, with a deep sigh , resigned myself to taking the bus. I shouldn’t really complain; I actually quite enjoy travelling by bus, I’m just moaning because I was so exhausted after the last trip. And, on a big adventure like this, the chance to do a train-trip in SA (which, frankly, I can do anytime) is probably not worth the risk. The height of irrationality, I realise, but I feel as though there is a finite amount of luck available and I need it all for the big adventure, so small adventures will simply have to be sacrificed. Irrationality, I don’t think unreasonably, given the disasters (international, global and otherwise) that have already befallen this journey.
I am now, however, a large step closer to actually accomplishing the goal of leaving the country. Infinitely closer than the last couple of times. Of course, I’m still infinitely far away from actually leaving. I click onto the news sites each day with fear and trepidation, just in case some major event has occurred to prevent me from going. There are still so many things that could go wrong. I am still terrified of tempting the wrath of the whatever from high atop the thing. I’m endeavouring not to think about it.
But some things have been achieved. I have packed, for example. Packing is a miserable job – made more miserable by weight restrictions – which makes me, at least once in every packing process, want nothing more than to throw up my hands and declare that I never wanted to go in the first place. But it’s done. For now anyway. And anyone who wishes me to add anything to my luggage is likely to meet with a sharp refusal. I cannot fit anything else in. At least not without going through this whole process again. The thought of which makes me miserable.
So this evening I will take my packed-to-leave-the-country bags, my more-tense-than-I-like-to-admit self and some fudge, and climb on a bus for the long trip to Joburg . For those who have never done it, it’s not as bad as you’d think. Plus you get to enjoy the sun setting on a winter afternoon through the red-seeded grasses, to watch the silhouettes of thorn trees and the hills of the sweeping plains carry the world into nightfall, and then to watch the night stars sparkle over a frost-dusted world. And other pretty moments between here and Gauteng.