Hey Andreas, thanks man, I’m going to Mozambique

This is my cousin*. He has a rather large boat. A 65 foot steel ketch, actually. He skippers the odd leisure cruise, but mostly he dives wrecks off the African coast for a living. With National Geographic tagging along. Because they are generally really old wrecks. 400 years old. With gold coins and bottles of cognac and cannons and stuff.

He lives on the boat. He and his South American mate bought it about a decade ago and spent years doing it up. And inviting chicks on board to see their GPS. And surfing. And scoring models. And diving. And getting into trouble with the Triad.

Then they sailed up the coast. During one of the worst storms in Cape history. Made it to Mozambique. Pottered around. Invited chicks on board to see their GPS. Met up with some guys who had diving rights. Happened to find the wreck of the century. You know, if I didn’t love him so much, I’d have to hate him.

Anyway, so after Andreas’ existential travel moment, I was thinking about my cousin. And how much I admire him for just doing what he loves. For ignoring the family and their ‘become a marine biologist’, ‘be a navy diver’, ‘get a real job’. For being the last of the swashbucklers and for having a huge heart behind the bravado. For knowing my most embarrassing secret and never telling anyone. For having a poet’s soul and a sailor’s hands. For trying to be a nice guy, even though he’s mostly really crap at it. For never compromising himself. For being a primary instigator of compromising situations.

And so when he sms’d the other day, I asked if there was a berth for a city weary cousin. And he said, anytime babe. And so I’m going, in September. Not for long, maybe two weeks. But enough to hang in a hammock for at least two days, without the sight of land. Enough to eat fresh prawns and king fish straight out of the sea. Enough for the sun to turn my skin a darker shade and lure the freckles out on my nose. Enough for now.

*if I could work out how to post a pic, I’d’ve posted a pic. Novice!

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11 thoughts on “Hey Andreas, thanks man, I’m going to Mozambique

  1. marco says:

    Don’t forget the goggles and flippers, and just remember those big sharks, and now escuse me i’m going to watch England lose hopefully
    arrivederci.

  2. datsun says:

    upload the picture – i use image shack
    then copy paste the ‘hot link’ for websites link
    pretty easy

  3. andreas says:

    Sounds frikkin’ awesome. I was on a live-aboard in Mozambique a couple of years ago – man oh man, it’s beautiful. I actually got together with Bree on a Mozam dive trip too, come to think of it. So are you a diver? If not, you should think about getting qualified before you go…a bit frikkin’ cold in CT now, tho.

    Your cousin makes me wish I hadn’t listened to my family (“You can’t join the Foreign Legion! Don’t be ridiculous! If you study that you’ll end up alone and poor and eating dogfood in a Point Road flat! Look at Michael McFuckup – he was just like you at twenty and now he’s a drug addict with a venereal disease! His poor mother. He’ll die alone and poor and eating dogfood, mark my words. You want to what? You’ll be raped and eaten by Somalis, as God is my witness. You’ll be paralysed! You’ll wind up in prison! Snowboarding instructors all end up in state-run old age homes! Porn is not a career! Jack Kerouac died alone and poor and eating dogfood! You’re going to kill me, Andreas! Etc.”)

    Hey; afterwards, if you feel like joining a disillusioned M&A guy, an aspirant movie director and a Canadian focus-puller (yeah – there’re 3 of us now, Eh) on any leg of a round-the world trip currently being planned, let me know.

  4. dolce says:

    Can you believe it, I learned how to dive in Bass Lake (yup, that shallow puddle outside Jozi!) But since then been finning about the Great Barrier Reef and some nice little spots in Thailand. Absolutely gobsmackingly gorgeous! And snorkeling in the Red Sea, which was also ridiculously beautiful. Must go back for a proper immersion.

    My parents loved the You’ll end up a shop girl in Checkers, mark my words route. Although I think dogfood got bandied about too. The problem is, I do tend to get eaten by Somalis (if I’m lucky 😉 ) or arrested or sold for camels. My best was phoning my mum to tell her I’d picked up a flesh eating parasite in the Sinai which required radiation treatment and instead of meeting me in Kensington for a spot of shopping, could she meet me at St Pancreas while they took a biopsy to make sure it hadn’t got into my bone marrow. Cutaneous Leishmania…those were the days!

    P.S. M&A, huh? Flip! Before I had a career I did a stint in the festering financial melting pot that is London, pretending to be a PA. M&A guys were my favourite. All that angst. All that money. No sleep whatsoever. So easily convinced to calm down with a bit of lite dominatrix type behaviour. Actually, no, those were the telecoms guys! Sjoe…are you very jaded?

  5. dolce says:

    testing testing

    Image Hosted by ImageShack.us

    PS Thanks Datsun

  6. andreas says:

    Sheesh, D, that place is horrid. I dived there once as a hand-holding favour for a friend. Ugh.

    You asked if I’m very jaded? Jaded is my second name. AJ is what my friends call me. Andreas is one jaded motherfucker, Dolce. I used to be a grungy Buddhist Punk with a penchant for German philosophy, but I got jaded. Then there was a time when all I wanted was to be a big swinging M&A dick, but swapping ten years of my life for a Ferrari started to seem kinda dumb, and I got jaded. So I switched to an outfit where I could have weekends and evenings free and I boozed and partied and fucked around and spent every weekend wakeboarding or surfing or snowboarding and shit (you know, the “balanced lifestyle”) but I got jaded. Then a year ago I embraced a long dormant political consciousness (suppressed since about 1999) and became a full-on cop-fighting Anarchist. But I got jaded with that. Quickly. So I had a bash at pre-marital suburban bliss with ‘lil Ms Perfect & 2.4 dogs (the one eats quite a lot). But I’m sooo fuckin’ jaded with that, even if I do kinda dig the dogs. So I guess that ain’t gonna last too much longer. Now at thirty I’m kinda getting jaded about being jaded with the result that I’m starting to notice sunsets and be happy and stuff…and I can even kinda see myself finally just chilling in some relatively crime-free place like Vancouver with a clever girl who enjoys reading, interesting films and nasty sex.

  7. dolce says:

    Sheesh brother. Don’t go to Canada. Canadians are weird, ey! You’ll be listening to Bryan Adams and drinking kak beer. Go live in Thailand. They make a living outta finding rainbows in puddles, even if they do get dumped by a big one every now and again. BUT SAY NO TO CANADA!

    Gotta run – meeting with tax person. Aaaargh.

  8. Now I should probably stay out of ‘other people’s’ conversations, especially those that have nothing to do with me and mine. But I am intrigued. What was it you called me again achoos…’a stalker’. Ja bru, I should probably just leave it alone, but fuck it.

    “Then a year ago I embraced a long dormant political consciousness (suppressed since about 1999) and became a full-on cop-fighting Anarchist”.

    No shit bru? What was that like? And this was a year ago, huh? Now I remember you saying something about finding your way to the G8 stuff…is that what you meant? A spot of struggle tourism then bru? Or maybe you actually got down and dirty and got into it on with the “poor”, you know the folk whose leaders don’t give a fuck about them, and “are too pathetic and stupid to organise themselves”. Was that it?

    And here I thought you were just another white boy with predisposition to (narrative) violence. You know the type right? Know-it-all’s who presumes to speak about folk as subjects. His subjects.

    But fuck me cause all along you were really full on cop fighting anarchist. Lol. Ja I know that type as well. poser

    i write what i like

  9. i really, really like you. and i mean that bru. Sincerely. I know you probably questioning that now… you know ’cause of this unprovoked affront. But don’t. I am just a malatjie, and you, you are the blogger i most admire (after JT). And i am glad you on our side

    i write what i like

  10. andreas says:

    Gee, man, thanks for pointing out the inherent contradiction in the middle class corporate white boy with the Tag Heuer and the BMW donning Aca Joe camos and a black Che-Guevara hoodie to join a gang of well-educated European “Anarchists” for a little (relatively safe) street violence. I never got it, man. Like, despite all the ironic, self-mocking references I made…you know…like when I said how I wasn’t charged by the UK cops after being arrested because of the indulgences granted to anarchists (when they’re middle-class white lawyers) …all the time I still thought I was the real deal, man. You know, just like fuckin’ Nestor Makhno or someone.
    Shit. Next thing you’re gonna tell me that me smacking my multi-function leather steering wheel while I listen to Ice T or N.W.A and try to ignore the poverty around me as I make my way to an air conditioned office is somehow ironic. Sheesh, bru…when did I ever claim to be the real deal? I can’t even commit to my girlfriend. I’m an “Anarchist” in the same way that people call themselves “Christians”. The term represents an ideal, not any kind of reality. You think I’m gonna give everything up to fight the Man? For who? The Poor? Those dumb exploited fucks couldn’t organise a goddamn thing. And any of them would kill for a chance to sit on the board of Haliburton and rape their erstwhile comrades. Human greed keeps the system going, man, and the poor are just as avaricious as any oil baron – just stupider and unluckier. I reckon battery chickens are more likely to come up with a viable alternative to the status quo. Does that mean that I like the status quo? Nah. Will I continue to express my contempt for global capitalism? Yup. Do I think it’ll ever make a meaningful difference? Nope. Do I still read socialist writers? Yeah, I do. And I still consider myself a leftist. But is “the movement” worth my total commitment? Not a fuckin’ chance. Does that make me a poseur? Hell, yeah. Do I give a fuck what you think about that? Not really, bru.

    I like you too, DS, but I’m not one of your dreamers, man. You come across like one of those fucking die-hard Nazi officers…Berlin’s crumbling around them, the 3rd Reich has a couple of weeks left…and they’re shooting their soldiers for failing to wear their death’s head caps in the right position or saluting with the wrong arm or something.

    The class war’s over, bru. The workers lost.

  11. yhiprhyrsn says:

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