I have been asked by a few people to write something about my impressions of AfrikaBurn. It was the first time I went, and well, yes, I guess there are a few impressions.
The long and short … I’m not really sure where to begin. 🙂
Last year, I couldn’t attend the ATKV Solms-Delta Oesfees because I was in Platbos planting trees. I was miffed that I was going to miss it, but the tree-planting left me with major warm fuzzies, and since human cloning had not yet taken off (still hasn’t), I made my peace with it. But firmly resolved to go to the next one.
So, the resolve was adhered to, and I went two weekends ago on 25 March. In short, I really wish that everyone could attend this festival! It was that amazing! Easily one of the best experiences I’ve had in a long time and think the person who started it and ran with it needs to get a medal. Or hugs from everyone who attended. Continue reading
Well, I am a bit late with this report of my first experience of Wine on the River, but best to get it out there nevertheless. Especially since I attended the Wacky Wine Weekend for the first time this year too, and now have ample information to do a relatively biased comparison. You kind of lose comprehensive use of your objectivity goggles after roughly the fourth glass of wine, so hopefully I will be able to make this useful.
It was with great anticipation and excitement that I packed my suitcase with winter woollies and Wellies on the eve of my first Wacky Wine weekend, based around Robertson. Bright-eyed and bushy tailed I joined my travel companions on the Friday afternoon, and off we went to our generous host’s abode in Montagu.
We even had a mascot (a coral-coloured, donkey-like animal from our driver’s bachelors party) to keep morale going in case our natural capabilities flagged. As if! But he proved to have quite the party personality, earning himself the additional moniker of “jolperd”.
My Woordfees het nie goed begin nie. Êrens by ‘n ander piekniekkonsert drie weke voor dit afskop, trap ek in ‘n wynglas (nugter, nie myne nie) en is immobiel vir minstens twee weke. Die noodlot gooi nog meer stokkies in my speke, want dan verstaan ek boonop nie die Woordfeesprogram op die webtuise nie en om in te ry vir die boekie … goeiste, dit beteken briek trap!
Tog, in die laaste dae van die Fees, bevind ek myself by Checkers met mossels in tamatiesous (winskoopprys) en ‘n pakkie groot pleisters in die hand, en onthou toe my vriendin se pleidooi, “Chris Chameleon tree op by Neethlingshof. Seblief, ons móét gaan!”