All posts by Claire

About Claire

Wandering (and wondering) development professional and aspiring aid worker. Contact me on anticipationofwonder[at]gmail[dot]com

The friendly gecko

Friends

A few days ago, a gecko arrived. I came into my room one morning – I had just made a cup of tea – and there he was, clinging casually to the ceiling. As I went to sit down, he scuttled across the ceiling and stopped, just above my head. I carefully set down my tea. Above me, the gecko twisted its head back and forth, looking at me. We sat for a while, staring at each other. I don’t really mind geckos but I had visions of him falling into my hot (and yummy) camomile tea.

As I watched, the gecko curled himself around and bit his tail, curled into a perfect ‘O’, with little gecko hands. I grabbed my camera and took a few shots. As soon as the flash burst forth, he uncurled and started moving stealthily away. He clearly wasn’t a fan of bright light.

He didn’t move far, though. During the rest of the day, he wandered backwards and forwards and around the edge of the room, where the ceiling met the wall, keeping me company. He was back the next day, before disappearing when the colder weather arrived.

I posted the pics on facebook and enjoyed the reactions. Responses from New Zealand, London, Canada, the UK, South Africa, New York. Some of these people know each other but most are utterly unconnected. Unique individuals scattered around the globe sharing the joy of something as simple as a friendly gecko.

Challenge

Adventures, Ideas, Travel

Since I returned from Korea, I’ve done a fair bit of travelling. I’ve travelled by bus, by car, by plane. I’ve visited the Western Cape and KZN. I’ve spent time in Somerset West and Durban and made several trips to Grahamstown. Most of the travelling has been purposeful, if not always successful.

In a week or so, I’ll be on the move again. I’m off to Cape Town to see friends I haven’t seen in ages. I’m looking forward to it. A homecoming of a different kind. Many of these friends live on other continents. What strange, scattered lives we lead.

It has me thinking about travel and distance and challenge. Wednesday is Chuseok in Korea. As per tradition, tomorrow and Thursday are also holidays. Chuseok is probably the most important holiday in Korea. The whole country shuts down for three days. This includes shops, restaurants and – bizarrely – hotels. Everyone travels to ancestral family homes for traditional rituals of respect for elders and ancestors, family celebrations and the sorts of special foods generally associated with Autumn harvest festivals.

Last year Chuseok was in October (the date is based on the lunar calendar). I had been in Korea for 3 months and was just starting to settle down. Some friends, whose trip to the Philippines had fallen through, decided to go paragliding. On the spur of the moment, I joined them. In all the excitement of a year in a foreign country, I sometimes forget that one of the things I did was to face down my fear of heights, high-risk activities and general adrenaline-related things and jump (well, run) off the side of a mountain. It was an amazing, exhilarating, mind-blowing experience.

And yet, ultimately, it was just one day, one experience. An experience completely unique to me. Shared, on the day, with two friends. Shared, through writing and images with many others. But ultimately, an experience and a memory affecting only me. Conrad was right: “we live, as we dream – alone”.

This trip, the rekindling of old friendships, rehashing old memories, will be great, but I start to feel that there should be something more, that I should be doing more with the travel and experiences. I begin to feel restless. When was the last time I did something to match the sweet, terrifying, life-affirming challenge of running off the side of a mountain?

Sweet summer day

seasons,

I slept late on Sunday and woke up, eventually, to a beautifully, summery day. It feels like so long since I saw a summer at home. The days have been getting longer and warmer, but this is the first real heat. I threw on a bikini, grabbed an old beach-towel and headed out to lie in the sun. There is something so utterly luxurious about lying in the sun, just lying there with a book, doing nothing but soaking up the sunshine. There was a tiny, delicate breeze, just ticklingly moving the air across my shoulders. The sun’s warm caress touched my arms and my legs and pooled warm light on my lower back. My skin rippled and glowed.

The air smelt like a hot summer, like dry, warm grass. It was perfectly quiet except for the birds and a Sunday service of African voices raised in song in the distance. I felt at peace.

Later in the day, still comfortably warm and rejoicing in being able to wear a sun-dress, I savoured the crisp first sip of chilled white wine – the taste of hot, South African summer. How I missed this crispness and the contrasts of hot days and chilled wine.

Today is warm again, but the early morning breeze is fresh. I love early summer mornings – hot enough not to feel chilly, not to want to put on layers and layers of clothing, but still with that little breeze of freshness welcoming you to the day before the heat asserts it’s overwhelming power.

The cool weather may not be gone just yet. Cold fronts may still return. But for me this taste of summer, this tactile joy of warmer weather to come is a tantalising promise of just how full of wonderful heat and warmth and summer my next few months will be.