Ten Years Past

Ten years ago come October 5th my neighborhood in suburban Atlanta was having a community garage sale. It was significant for me because I was selling most everything I owned at that sale. I watched my material possessions get carried away by strangers; things I had worked so hard to obtain, but at that moment none of those things meant anything to me. I was about to leave everything I knew behind to embark on what ultimately became a life changing journey. (The entire story is told in my book, “Domestic Departures” if you want details.)


Today, I was remembering small lessons from that journey but maybe just as significant as the big lessons that came my way over that year. I had entered another world when I moved to Knysna, South Africa and was enjoying every second investigating that new world. Once I was settled into my one bedroom flat I needed groceries to fill my little refrigerator so I drove down the hill to the Spar grocery store where I got lost in the shelves filled with so many unknown items. It was at that grocery store I first discovered the small push carts you put your hand baskets in of the likes now seen at Whole Foods and other places in the States. I filled my little push cart with new veggies and fruits to try and this super thin seasoned meat I fried up that first night, (delicious). When I got to the condiments isle I grabbed a Hellman’s Mayonnaise. The women standing near me made the comment, “You are lucky to be able to afford that.” I wasn’t looking at any of the prices and that brought me right back to the reality of what I was doing. I was exiting my normal and that Hellman’s, which was a high priced import for the locals but cheap for me with the exchange rate, was my normal. I looked at that women and, as I put the Hellman’s back on the shelf, said, “I can’t afford it. I wasn’t thinking.” I bought the local brand instead.

The View From the Deck of my Flat

There were many of those kind of moments; some significant and others just fun. Another such was the first time I went to the Knysna Movie House in Pledge Square just down the hill from my flat. I was going to see Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone paying - with the exchange rate at the time - less than two US dollars. Knysna Movie House is quant and very personal certainly nothing like the big box movie-plexes we have in the States. The people working there seemed to know most everyone that came in. The small lobby housed comfy couches, fluffy chairs and reading material scattered on the coffee table where groups were sitting awaiting their movie. I bought my ticket from the man behind the counter who turned his computer screen around to me and asked where I would like to sit. I looked at the computer screen and there was a layout of the small theater with each seat numbered. It was common practice to sell seats by the number there. I choose a seat in the center that the screen showed available and then ordered popcorn from the same man. When he brought it to me he told me all the seasonings were on the table “over there”. I looked and saw an array of seasonings to sprinkle on my popcorn. That trend has now reached the States but the Knysna Movie House was the first place I saw it. Over the months I lived in Knysna I tried every flavor they offered.

I told myself over and over while I was on that journey to slow down and burn every little detail into my memory. There were a few moments that I wished for familiarity but I would tell myself to relax, enjoy and take it all in. I knew then what is certainly the truth today ten years later - that there would come many a day in my future when I wished myself back there. I wasted not a moment of that sabbatical. I regret not a day. I would wake in the morning and have to decide if I wanted to spend a few hours at the coffee shop and book store or perhaps grab a coffee and go to the beach for a walk to watch the dolphins frolic; dinner at Main Street Café, the Knysna Oyster catcher or maybe watch the sunset drinking a glass of South African wine at 34 degrees South on the bay. Those were the toughest decisions I faced.



The Basket Full of Memories

 I left the States on October 30th 2001 for that extended journey; ten years ago next month. I have a big round basket I bought in Mozambique that sits today over my kitchen cabinets that contains memories from my South African sabbatical aka my Midlife Crisis Safari. I said when I packed that basket full of I can’t remember what that I would open it in ten years. Today it remains unopened. That basket is more important to me than anything I sold in that garage sale ten years ago. Sometime soon I will open it to see what the basket contains. I look forward to laughing and crying when the memories flood. I can’t wait, but for some reason I am doing just that; waiting. I guess I will know when the time is right.