08.11.2011 - 08.11.2011
You'll need an empty garage, lots of tissues, one more day, and a bag for everything that you forget to pack. (RJD – if you're reading this, please don't lose my pocket knife). And you'll need enough stuff to leave behind.
For the last four years I've accumulated stuff in Cape Town, South Africa. Useful stuff, stupid stuff, dress up stuff, kitchen stuff, varsity stuff... Copious amounts of stuff. However, in the spirit of an adventurer, that all went out of the window. Well, not literally, because we're on the fourth floor, and there are nice hedges below us, and the body corporate could've got annoyed, and some of it was breakable and... Anyway, I digress. Even my diglets were in danger of getting chucked out – but the Yellow Submarine would've sunk without them. Much love.
Said stuff was packed methodically (cough cough) into boxes, and left alone in a garage somewhere near the Cape Town airport. And with that, I had no permanent place of residence... Freedom much?!
Packing people into boxes and saying goodbye is not as easy, though. Firstly, I didn't have big enough boxes. And secondly, I couldn't leave part of my heart there, too. Four years in Cape Town has meant more fun, memories, laughter, friendships, blessings and adventure than I could ever have imagined. To leave that all behind was tough – especially with the knowledge that it'll never be the same again. Some legends made sure that I'd have good farewell memories, and rocked up at the airport – hence the requirement for lots of tissues. AB, LS, MK, PP, RJD, SJB and TG... You guys made leaving easier and harder at the same time. The lady who had to sit next to me on the flight to Johannesburg will attest. Apologies, ma'am, for being the awkward crying girl on the plane.
Goodbye, Cape Town, and everything that I left behind. I'll be back. Someday.