The zen of owning a vehicle in South Africa

We've been car shopping.

You see, in South Africa, Public Transportation is basically useless for US Mission employees.  There are Kombi buses (they call them taxis) that are usually old VW vans or the like, which frequently get tire blow-outs that result in fires and mass loss of life.  (In fact, two days ago one of them crashed and killed 17 people in all.)  The Gautrain, recently built and extended to the Central Business District of Johannesburg, is a great idea and one that should catch on, if they can get a lower pricing system.  (Think DC's is bad?  Try a minimum ride of $5.  It does go to the airport, which is awesome though.)  Walking can be dangerous, and impractical with two small kids.  So a car is the way to go.

Prior to our arrival in Jozi, we purchased a 2001 Volvo S-40.  Ran like a dream.  If your dream is written by Clive Barker that is.  This thing has been a pain almost since day one.  The brakes had to be replaced about 1 1/2 months after we picked it up, and the temperature sensor went bad as well.  (I've talked about that time previously, when my bank and I almost broke up over my debit card being cancelled.)  Recently the throttle body and air intake sensor had to be replaced as well.  The price for both of these, plus the oil it burns through, has been about 1/2 of what we paid for this monstrosity.  Sweeden: love you for IKEA and ABBA, but not so much this car.

Anyways, even though they replaced the throttle body, this automatic vehicle stalls.  All the time.  Which is a bit dismaying considering the crime in this country.  Really don't want to be stuck in traffic with bad guys coming at you and your car stalls.  It's a sickening feeling, and I hate that Lovely English Lass has to put up with this.

So we're purchasing a car from our friends across the street who are leaving in the middle of July (boo!).  But we also decided that instead of renting vehicles when we have people visit (and for ease of travel for the entire family when some of us have one thing to do and others have something else) that it wouldn't be a bad idea to buy a new vehicle as well.  The cars here actually hold their value quite well, and most come with a maintenance plan too.  So, win win!

We searched for what we wanted, and found one.  Now we just have to wait until the Foreign Ministry approves the sale, gives us the documents, and I transfer the funds to them so we can get rid of our Swedish Nightmare and enjoy a reliable type of transport.  It's a good car, but it's not flashy enough that someone will want to steal it.  (We hope.)  Besides, baby seats don't fit in a McLaren or Lotus, do they?

Traffic Stop

In Johannesburg, or South Africa for that matter, a traffic stop sometimes is more than it seems.

Sometimes you get pulled over by a Policeman, and he talks you through it all and sends you on your way with a ticket or a warning.  Sometimes, a Policeman will pull you over and ask to be compensated appropriately for his work so you don't get a ticket or arrested.  Sometimes, a Policeman that pulls you over isn't actually a Policeman, but someone with a blue flashing light on his vehicle.  Not a good one to have.

The question then becomes, what do you do when you see a blue light in your rear view mirror?  The government has put out notices that if you feel the person isn't a police officer, you don't have to pull over.  You just drive to the nearest police station to deal with the issue there.  (Again, this is official government notice.)

So Saturday night, Lovely English Lass and I went to a wedding.  Lovely experience, great venue, and a good night was had, sans kids.  We did have to leave early, though, to make sure the kids got to bed and to relieve the babysitter.

Imagine my surprise when we come up to a checkpoint on the road.  There were local and national police around, and they were stopping all the cars.  As I pulled up, I prepared my speech, but was cut off by the officer, who politely asked, "Sir, have you had anything to drink within the last 24 hours?"

Well of course I had.  I was at a wedding and they had a champagne toast.  But, being a good boy, if somewhat back-slidden Baptist on the idea of alcohol, I only had one glass 2 hours prior to driving.  When I informed the officer, he asked me to pull the car to the side of the road. He came over, took my Diplomatic ID and asked me to follow him to a van which was on the other side of the road.  I had handed LEL my phone to call the Regional Security Officer, but it's not really intuitive to unlock, so she called his wife on her phone.  Luckily he answered it and talked her through the situation.

Meanwhile I was in a line of people waiting to blow into a breathalyzer.  I was handed a straw in a wrapper and told to wait in line with everyone else.  After 5 minutes, which felt like 30, I reached the front.  Another officer took my straw, placed it on the breathalyzer, and told me to blow until he said stop.  Now, I'd been watching these people in front of me do it for 5 minutes, and they always had to blow for at least 10 seconds.  So, I took a deep breath and blew into the breathalyzer.  2 seconds later the guy tells me to stop, he's good.  (Turns out playing tuba and soccer really helps develop strong lungs.)  After being complimented on my lung power by the officer, I was released with a 0.0 BAC.  I was handed my id, and told to drive safely.

Granted my experience wasn't exceptional.  Heck, in Northern Virginia this happens almost every Friday night.  But after hearing the tales of police corruption and the fake officers, you can understand being a bit wary of anyone.  However, gotta say I'm happy that they are going after drunk drivers. If they focus on the crimes, and make the police look legit like they're helping, it's a move in the right direction.  It gives me hope that one day someone in Jozi will see the blue lights in their mirror and won't think they're about to be shook down or robbed.  Progress starts with one step.

Father's Day

So we got to celebrate Father's Day yesterday in South Africa.  Unlike Mother's Day, which there seem to be many different dates for it depending on the country, Father's Day tends to be the same worldwide.  So, no extra presents for me.  (Lovely English Lass on the other hand celebrates Mother's Day in March for the UK, May for the US, and the date if there is a separate one for the country we are living in.   That's just how she rolls.)

I got some great gifts from the kids and from LEL.  Lovely Little Girl bought me a french press that is only used for one cup of coffee.  Very tiny, and very cool!  Crazy Little Man bought me cuff links.  One is yellow and one is red.  One says "Yellow Card warning", and the other says "Red Card send off".  I absolutely love them both.  I also got a very nice sweater from LEL.

We went to JBs on the Corner for breakfast and the place was packed.  When it gets crowded like that, we all get a bit nervous. The noise bothers LLG, and LEL doesn't like crowds too much either.  And this place had both.  I was afraid we'd have a melt-down of one type or another, but it went off surprisingly well.  Afterwards, we walked around and went into a bookstore nearby.  The kids browsed for books, and both my wife and I were horrified by two little girls (about the ages of 5 and 8) reading a book about the Kardashian sisters.

After the bookstore we went to Monte Casino, had coffee at Seattle's Best Coffee, and walked around enjoying the ambiance.  We then went home, where CLM took a nap and we did some sorting of paperwork.  After a quick trip to buy food for dinner, we returned home, ate, put the kids to bed and watched the movie, "Thor" on television.  All in all it was a very good Father's Day.

Of course I was reminded bright and early this morning that my day was over, by LLG waking up at 330 and not going back to sleep.  Then again, if I didn't have those moments, it wouldn't be fatherhood would it?

I have to say I am very blessed with my family.  I have a father that has been a great example and hero to me.  My father-in-law is a good man as well, and someone I'd do well to emulate.  My children are relatively healthy and happy.  My wife is a loving mother, understanding wife and smokin hot to boot.  All in all, there are much worse things in life.  I'm just glad I get to enjoy it while I can.

My wife is English

Now for most of you reading this, the title of this blog post is self-evident.  Most of you have met her, heard her speak, and know where she was born.  I even refer to her as Lovely English Lass.  She carries a red passport along with her blue US one.  She is undoubtedly English.

But, there's something you have to know.  There's English.  And then there's ENGLISH.  My wife has always fallen into the former rather than the latter.  She's from Yorkshire, which is quite known for not being fussed with things like the Monarchy, or anything to do with the "Soft South."  In fact, the North is where numerous independent thoughts originated from.  Socialism and Communism were originally thought of in the North.  (Manchester for Communism.)  At one time in the 1800s, there were over 100 vegetarian restaurants in Manchester alone.  Sheffield, where LEL is from, provided the steel for the British Empire.  Labor (or Labour in British English) has always had a strong appeal up North.

Which is why it was so disarming on Wednesday of last week when I received an email from my wife asking if we could have a Jubilee Party on Saturday.  To say I was a bit gobsmacked is an understatement.  Really?  But she was serious, and so the planning went on for my wife to celebrate the 60 years on the throne for Queen Elizabeth (God save the Queen!  Long may she reign!).  She even started downloading patriotic British songs.  ("Jerusalem", "Land of Hope and Glory", "Rule Britannia" and of course, "God Save The Queen.")

LEL tried very hard to get the kids involved in the planning.  She'd ask Crazy Little Man, "Are you British or American?"  At first, all she got in response was, "I'm American."  But soon, he'd reply, "I'm British AND American."  Good enough for government work, that.  Lovely Little Girl meanwhile was not interested in the event, mainly because it was for someone royal that wasn't her.

The day arrived, and we still had a lot to do. Sadly, the car was acting up again, so we were without our normal set of wheels.  That didn't stop the party though!  With the help of a rental car, we finished our shopping, CLM took a nap, and LLG tried very hard not to get into any trouble, with little success.  But, my Lovely English Lass was on a roll!  She was in the kitchen preparing homemade Coronation Chicken and her own invention: Coronation Chickpeas. She made her own cream for scones and to go on top of the Trifle.  She made bacon wrapped sausages and made Pimm's to drink.  She made her own decorations, and had photos of the queen through the ages printed and placed around the dining room.  She even took a Kleenex Box, covered it in Union Jacks, and placed slips of paper inside with famous gaffes from Prince Philip.   (Everyone at the party would take out a gaffe and read it aloud.  The party agreed that his use of the exclamation "Ghastly!" was brilliant, and that we should try to use it at least once in a meeting this week.)

Everyone arrived, and the party went quite well with one exception.  The player for the iPod kept making a funny noise, so we moved the music to her iPhone.  However this didn't put a damper on the festivities.  Everyone loved the food, the kids played on the "Bouncy Windsor Castle" we had outside, and the day was a complete success.

I thought about all of this later on, and realized how much LEL has given up to travel around the world with me.  She could have been back in Blighty at a block party, or out with her friends back in London.  So I suppose that is why she suddenly felt British this week.  That's fine with me.  It's part of who she is, and part of who my kids are as well.  It'll be nice to go back in September, see her friends and the rest of the family, and finally show Crazy Little Man his "other" home country.  And who knows?  Maybe one day I'll end up living there too.  You never know where life takes you.  It took LEL to a Jubilee party, and I know I wasn't expecting that!