My first day in South Africa

I'm in South Africa! A new blog post, and a new continent. I arrived early doors yesterday morning, and with bleary eyes after the flight from Perth to Jo'burg (and from Jo'burg to Cape Town) I was welcomed to Africa by Tom. On our way back to Hout Bay (just outside Cape Town), we stopped off in the local market for my first beer on SA soil, as well as my first bit of food - a lovely prego roll. (Basically a steak sandwich with some nice sauces cooked into it. Lovely).

We arrived back at Tom's house (and my home for the next couple of months) to say hi to Linda and Georgia, and I just about had time to have a quick shower and throw on my Chelsea shirt before we headed back into Cape Town to watch Chelsea play Everton.

Tom is the chairman of the Cape Town Chelsea supporters club, and the members meet up to watch the games in a bar on the Waterfront. (Incidentally, the Waterfront is the most visited place in the whole of Africa - guess we got lucky to get a parking space!). It wasn't a great performance from Chelsea but the game itself wasn't too bad. The atmosphere in the bar we watched it in was also good, as the Cape Town Toffees had joined us to give a bit of rivalry and excitement to proceedings. So naturally, they were all giving it the big 'un when Louis Saha put Everton ahead, but were soon silenced when Salamon "Hasn't Got A" Kalou scuffed in an equaliser for the reigning FA Cup winners. 1-1 wasn't really a fair result (Chelsea deserved to go down by a few goals) but it was graciously accepted by both clubs, with handshakes at the end.

The supporters themselves were a good bunch and the rivalry between the two teams was only friendly banter. The 'predict a goal' competition (where you pay 2 rands to pick a minute, and whoever is closest to when the first goal is scored wins the pot) was won by Elton, an Everton fan, which helped keep the Toffees in good voice. Evidently one of their star performers (and favourites of the Cape Town Toffees) was Seamus Coleman. The name Seamus, for those of you who don't know, if pronounced "Shay-muss", but the CT Toffees kept saying it as though it rhymed with the word seabass. The frequent sounds of a few (with noticably strong SA accents) shouting "Come on Sea-mass!" was rather amusing.

After the game, we headed over to one of Tom and Linda's friends house for a small gathering. The women sat inside while the men and young children larked around in the pool. Deciding to class myself as a child (the oldest of which was otherwise 9), I joined in the general larking about. However, one of the games involved throwing each other off our woggles. (Or noodles, if you're politically incorrect). During a particularly heated exchange with the nine year old, where he was unable to get me off mine using sheer force, he decided to punch me in the face. Right in the mouth.

I've been lucky in my life to have previously avoided being punched in the face. Due to a combination of small stature and general cowardice, I've avoided being in fights mainly by either diffusing the situation with words, or simply running away. So when involved in a harmless game in the swimming pool with a child of half my age, I wasn't expecting a punch. It all happened in slow motion. I had been underwater, and bobbed my head up for a split second to breathe. I saw his face, filled with anger and fury, and I saw his fist moving towards my face. I tried to avoid it, but I didn't react quickly enough, and his right hand made contact with my top lip. I was stunned by this unprovoked blow, and immediately let go of my woggle, which he happily grabbed.

I said "Ow". He started laughing. I realised that as much as I wanted to smack him one back, it probably wouldn't go down well with his dad about 5 yards away. So I got out of the pool.

By this stage I was absolutely knackered. I'd been on the go since 9am the previous morning in Perth (which had a major time difference to SA), and other than a few uncomfortable hours of plane sleep, I hadn't been able to get any rest since that morning in the YHA. So after the gathering finished and we set off home, I went straight to bed, and slept for a solid 15 hours. Probably a new personal best.

So that was my first day in South Africa.