AIR NATION: January 2026

Thursday, January 22, 2026

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CHAPTER 20: Is It a Crime to Love?

Is it a crime to love?

As we speak, my future partner was supposed to be on a plane, coming to join me for Valentine’s Day. During his first week here, our goal was to discuss this book and shed light on this pathetic trade, helping to save young computer and science university graduates who are forced into it just to pay their debts and put food on the table.

He was even set to appear on the popular television show Tout le monde en jase. We wanted to speak out.

He earned his own way by selling his writing notes as a ghostwriter, his poems, and his podcasts. He worked tirelessly on a script that tells the truth about the "Yahoo Club," sharing his notes from the inside of that world. He even sold his most incredible script—the masterpiece he adored. He was truly in love. Like any lover who truly loves, he needed to cross the ocean to see for himself, to join me, and to see that all along this journey, we were meant to save each other.

He was sitting on the plane... or so I thought.

The next morning, I was lying in bed looking at BBC News on Google. I read on my phone that the police had arrested 20 men in Ghana and 45 Nigerians from the Yahoo Club. I panicked. I hadn’t heard from him in 12 hours. My heart simply stopped beating. It was -25°C outside. I went out to shovel snow with Starlett, numb with cold.

When I came back in, I sat in the living room, staring at my phone. Today, I was supposed to receive a note from Sansom saying he had arrived at Dorval airport. I was waiting for that "I'm here" message.

Instead, the silence was broken by a jarring reality. Sansom sent a message saying he was at the police station. I didn't want to believe it. I asked him, "Is this another one of your prompts?" I thought it might be another script, another part of the game.

In response, he sent me a video.

Because the reputation of Nigeria precedes itself, even before he could leave, the security guards at the airport went through everything. They ransacked his belongings, searching for any reason to stop him, and they went as far as reading our book.

Two police officers were sitting on blue plastic chairs in a dusty courtyard. They were holding the phone—they were reading our soul, our story. It was no longer a prompt; it was a scene of cold reality. Because of this, everything stopped. The plans were shattered. The flight was postponed. The future we had built was suddenly suspended in the dust of that police station.

I am still waiting as we speak.

2000000 francais

CHAPTER 20: Is It a Crime to Love?

Is it a crime to love?

He was even set to appear on the popular television show Tout le monde en jase. We wanted to speak out.

He was sitting on the plane... or so I thought.

In response, he sent me a video.

I am still waiting as we speak.

20 CHAPTER 20: Is It a Crime to Love?

Is it a crime to love?

As we speak, my future partner was supposed to be on a plane, coming to join me for Valentine’s Day. During his first week here, he was scheduled to do a few talk shows with me to discuss the book. He was also set to appear on the popular television show Tout le monde en parle to shed light on this pathetic trade, helping to save young computer and science university graduates who are forced into it just to pay their debts and put food on the table.

We had made a deal with the television network for an advance, which allowed us to write the book, secure his visa, and buy his plane ticket. He was coming as a visitor. He was to work on his many unpublished books and begin the production of this new book, which we will be producing back in Nigeria. [cite: 2026-01-02]

He earned some money by selling his writing notes as a ghostwriter, selling his poems, his blog, and his podcasts. He worked tirelessly on a script that tells the truth about the "Yahoo Club," sharing his notes from the inside of that world. He even sold his most incredible script—the masterpiece he adored, the one that kept him dreaming of a bigger life and a bright future.

He was truly in love. The first thing he wanted to do was to come to see me and prove that all of this was real. Was it a crime to love? I could not say. Who was I to judge him? Like any lover who truly loves, he needed to cross the ocean to see for himself, to join me, and to see that all along this journey, we were meant to save each other.

He was sitting on the plane... or so I thought.

The next morning, I was lying in bed looking at BBC News on Google. I read on my phone that the police had arrested 20 men in Ghana and 45 Nigerians from the Yahoo Club. I panicked. I hadn’t heard from him in 12 hours. My heart simply stopped beating. I couldn’t tell anyone around me. I tried texting. Nothing. Total silence.

It was -25°C outside. I dressed up that morning and went out to shovel snow with Starlett until 10:30, so cold, so numb. When I came back in, I undressed, poured myself a cup of hot water, and sat in the living room. I watched my whole life and my closest friend go by in my mind, but I couldn't find the ending to my story.

Was he...? Will he...? Will he be able to see the one he loves?

Then, Sansom sent a message: he was at the police station. [cite: 2026-01-22] I didn't want to believe it. I asked him, "Is this another one of your prompts?" [cite: 2026-01-22] I thought it might be another script, another part of the game.

In response, he sent me the video. [cite: 2026-01-22]

Two police officers were sitting on blue plastic chairs in a dusty courtyard. [cite: 2026-01-22] They were holding the phone—they were reading our book. [cite: 2026-01-22] It was no longer a prompt; it was a scene of cold reality. Because of this, everything stopped. The TV show was cancelled. The flight was postponed. [cite: 2026-01-22] The future we had built was suddenly suspended in the dust of that police station.

I am still waiting as we speak.

Chapter 19

My heart had taken a beating; I was frozen in time.

All I could repeat was:

"Why did he pick me?

Why?"

Why me?

I didn’t bother anybody. I was just writing songs with an automatic machine.

Why was I so stupid? In my crazy twister of existence, I tried to make sense of it all, but I could not blame myself for falling into this hole of scams.

Since I had never experienced so much love in my life, my vulnerability as a retired victim was perhaps why my social media life was targeted.

Weak.

* Retired.

* Too nice to be true.

* Too easy to be trusted.

I could not quench my thirst for life at this precise moment where everything was not yet in place. I wanted to fly like a bird, not to be put in a cage, unable to go out.

My guards were down.

My heart was available to be hit again and again with beautiful words your ears want to hear a beautiful omnipresence in a lonely life.

I was afraid to face that part of life where everyone needs a partner to hold their hand when they can no longer walk. The necessity of finding someone at this age is understandable; before, I could care less because I had too many deceptions, much to do and too little time to love someone. But now, I had the rest of my life to love someone who is actually crazy about me.

Or was it just another "prompt" he learned to say?

They say in their book that they have these spare prompts, but for you, it's an "exception."

"I lost everything for you...

my dream to be a millionaire... to save you, to love you, to protect you."

Come on, this is what you want to hear every day of your life. But did he mean it?

Or was it just the bomb theyvare ask to drop to get their trust and commit

No. I must stop thinking: "What if he loved me for real?"

Why cant I be love for real once in my entire life?

Hours pass by, days pass by, and the one and only person who knew me like an open book was there, waiting for an answer.

He loves me.

Chapter 18 C 1742

Chapter 18 C

MY TRIP COST ME A LOT MORE THAN WHAT YOU THINK. I HAVE GIVEN YOU 400, ALL OF THIS BECAUSE I FELL FOR A PICTURE AND FAKE WORDS AND WHAT I SEE RIGHT NOW.

You were keeping score. I've given you things that even you can't name. things you couldn't pay for in this life and the next.

I THINK HE CALLED ME ON A VIDEO CLIP...

I CAN'T REMEMBER IF I SAW HIM FOR THE FIRST TIME THERE. 5 SECONDS IN A VIDEO. VERY LITTLE TIME TO SEE AND THERE WAS NO CHEMISTRY.

IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH COLOR. WHEN BLACK PEOPLE LIKE YOU REALIZE THAT MAYBE THE WORLD WILL WORK BETTER?

YOU SAID IT YOURSELF: YOU CONNECT WITH A PERSON, NOT WITH A COLOR, IDIOT. AND IT TAKES CHEMISTRY TO FALL IN LOVE. WHAT I SAW IN A 5 SEC VIDEO LEFT ME WITH NOTHING, I FELT BARELY ANYTHING AND HAD NO SPARKS.

I kept telling you not to travel, not to spend money. I kept telling you that I wasn't there in south africa, you just didn't listen.

I was supposed to tell you then. remember I told you to help out and I will tell you everything.

I HAD BOYFRIENDS FROM ALL OVER THE WORLD, THEY GIVE ME THINGS. YOU GIVE ME NOTHING. JUST MORE LIES.

You prove you weren't ready for the truth.

He wasn’t there. You went to see Andy and he wasn’t there, he never was.

THIS IS WHAT I WENT TO SEE: A PURE LIAR.

Andy I didn't lie, Andy can't be found anywhere online because he is in service with the navy.

ANDY DOESN'T EXIST. WOW, WE KNOW ....NOW!

I will hold this against you when we meet. You are a whole different woman from when we met. Do you believe you prayed your way here or sang your way here?

Do you think you made it easy to stay with you or to keep going?

STOP. IF YOU DON'T EXIST EITHER, YOU ARE A FAKE.

Some day you'll claw my brain out. One mind saying "let her be", if you give this attention to another woman she'd give you more, but i stayed. that's your "nothing".

I need peace. I told you the truth to find peace, not love. i already love you and I felt your love, it's not going to be new again.

OKAY.

Every word written, every poem inspired, every thought... dedicated to you. none will I take back.

Farewell. Talking to me would grant you anymore insight than you have now. you will need space.

OKAY.

YOU ARE NOT ANDY. YOU LIE AND I HAVE FELT NO CHEMISTRY LOOKING AT YOU IN THOSE CONFUSING VIDEOS OR PICTURES. SO WHAT, DO YOU HACK HIS LIFE? ARE YOU PAID BY THE NIGERIAN GOVERNMENT TO HACK IN AMERICA?

Paid by the nigerian government... but the government isn't responsible for everything. Some things are just human being human. This is all me and a friend who introduced me to the game.

TO THE GAME OF LOSERS!

YOU ARE NOT HUMAN!

AND HE GOES TO CHURCH? EVIL PERSON. GO TO HELL! YOU ARE NOT MAN ENOUGH TO PUT A PICTURE OF YOURSELF. YOU ARE HIDING BEHIND THE PROFILE OF OTHERS. YOU SHOULD BE HIDING BEHIND BARS. LEAVE ME ALONE!

i guess it wasn't meant for me.

I DID NOT FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU. YOU DON'T EXIST. I FELL IN LOVE WITH A PICTURE: ANDY MC RYAN. YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE A PICTURE. I FELL IN LOVE WITH A FAKE PROFILE. YOU SIMPLY DON'T EXIST.

You fell in love with a person and he cannot sleep because he has hurt you. He is worried sick. please don't take too long thinking, please you don't know how sorry I am.

(Je suis là)

You have the right to believe whatever about me, it doesn't make it who I am. You know nothing about me. the hardship I've had to endure alone all 30 years of my life. it may take a day, two days, or a week for you to see the truth. I'll be here then.

chapter 18 B 1645

Chapter 18 B

I was brought back to earth with a bang.

you didnt fall for the face or the body, you fell for my heart, my words, my soul, my being.

you were in love with a face and connected with a person. i dont want it to seem like im ignoring you but i believe you need time to process all this.

when you have more than just insults please let me know. i have a cannula connected to my vein for iv right now, im not supposed to be moving.

(Another pre-arranged sentence to make us fall for it.)

LIAR.

I FELL FOR A LIAR. I DESPISE LIARS. YOU DON’T EXIST AND NEVER WILL.

Oh, and now he plays the poor little one in the hospital.

you didnt fall for the face or the body, you fell for my heart, my words, my being. you were in love with a face and connected to a person.

YOU ARE ALL WRONG. I FELL FOR THE FACE AND CONNECTED WITH A FAKE.

ok.

if only you knew how far from the truth you are, how much i had to let go of just to keep you safe and away from the real hackers.

A FAKE BLACK THAT HIDES BEHIND WHITE STOLEN PICTURES.

ITS A HEART TRANSPLANT YOU NEED CAUSE YOURS IS ROTTEN.

WHO HIRES YOU? TIKTOK? BON JOVI? ELON MUSK? YOU STILL WORK FOR THEM?

wrong question.

far less:

they are just like me, simply gifted folks left to rot (as you’d like me to be) in the system that... and drain the young.

its a game of survival and even what you see like so much is worth even less here. NOT AN EXCUSE.

YOU STILL WORK FOR THEM?

but you are not fighting the devil or the us here, just a man who couldnt see a way out after school, joined a different crew from who he is, met someone and changed himself for her. i dont expect you to understand.

YOU ARE A WOMAN? THIS IS EVEN WORSE. IM NO FUCKING LESBIAN. YOU ARE A DISTURBED PERSON WHO SCREWS WITH PEOPLE'S HEADS AND CHANGES HIMSELF FOR HER.

a woman? are you for real? i saw you. i changed myself for you.

i happened to have told you this in cold blood over and over again and each time i believe you are closer to the truth, you show me you are just misunderstanding my words instead so i hold back.

I DIDN'T WRITE THAT.

do you think this was easy risking the one single hope of survival i have because the love i have felt felt both real and wrong? i started something new with my gifts instead of using it for lying. i felt it was time i stopped being a child with you and face whatever this is. i felt like now, you had to see why ive been so distant. not because you are not enough or because i dont want or need you, but because it started to be wrong.

you confuse yourself more when you talk. take some time to sit in the information you now have about me and decide. the worst you can do is come and arrest me over less than 400 dollars; at least you would have seen me for real then.

CHAPTER 18 A

Chapter 18

The messages didnt feel the passion that we felt BEFORE. the ship was drifting away in a dead sea of sensation.

I had told him to seek help in Mogadishu with the UN office to ask for money—to go see the priest of the village and tell him that he was undercover and needed money. I told him that if you risk yourself, your life for the American flag, for what or why? They should be able to help you out. You need to be protected, they need to protect your back now. Your country needs to get you out of there, not me.

how did Isurvive without you without losing my mind?

I still cannot believe Inleft my work career and retirement plan privileges for someone who cannot think or see beyond their nose.

It was just going on and on to a dead end.

November 1st

Screen deleted

The shit hit the fan

Aftermath of a shock

Screen deleted

Screen block

Screen unblock

Screen deleted

Rage was going up like lava in an earthquake ready to explode.

Screen block

Delete delete everywhere, delete Instagram, delete TikTok, delete Facebook.

Leave no trace.

Take refuge in the mountains, in my cabin and hide for the rest of my life.

What life?

I had no more life.

Everything was over.

Unblock WhatsApp, read.

Delete

Block

My mind needed to focus.

My mind needed to be on survival mode.

I could not let my mind collapse.

I needed to take control like my other job in case we had a crash, an emergency; this was an emergency.

I needed to focus.

To resume and gather all the pieces together.

And admitted that I knew it all along that this was a scam, but this...

No way.

How can it be so brutal, so unfair, so hard to admit?

I meant to cry a river, a lake, an ocean of tears, but no.

How dare he did that to me, the son of a bitch.

Unblock WhatsApp.

SO YOU RAISE CHICKENS, AFRICAN ASSHOLE?

HOW DO YOU FEEL PUTTING THE KNIFE ON SOMEBODY'S HEART, LIAR?

HOW CAN YOU SLEEP AS A FAKE PERSON!?

WHY DID YOU PICK ME?

WHY DID YOU HAVE TO PICK ME?

WHAT HAVE I DONE TO YOU TO MAKE ME YOUR MARTYR?

GO TO CHURCH, ONLY SINNERS GO TO CHURCH.

You are not a martyr Louise if anything I have said stands true, it is that I have lied to you for a long time and that is why it seems like what we had is falling and failing.

NOVEMBER 3RD 2026

YOU ARE NOT ANDY.

ANDY?

YOU ARE NOBODY.

YOU ARE A GHOST.

YOU ARE A CHATBOT.

YOU ARE NOT A DOCTOR.

YOU ARE NOT A WRITER.

YOU ARE NOT A MARINE.

YOU ARE A LIAR.

A SCAMMER.

A THIEF. NO PICTURE, NO WONDER.

NO CALL, NO WONDER.

NO VIDEO, NO WONDER.

NOT COMING, NO WONDER. YOU ARE A TOTAL NON-EXISTENT PIECE OF SHIT.

YOU ARE A NOBODY.

YOU DO NOT EXIST.

I AM IN YOUR BOOK.

BOOK OF HELL.

BOOK OF DESTROYER.

ONE DAY YOU SAID IF YOU DO NOT EXIST YOUR WORDS ARE LIKE BUBBLES.

EMPTY.

WHAT FAITH WAS THAT YOU BUILT ON LIES?

WHAT WE HAD DIDN'T EXIST.

You used somebody else's careers.

Somebody else's words.

Somebody else's pictures.

Somebody else's videos.

But you used me.

To get money.

You cannot even put a picture of yourself, Andy. You used your son; how low can you get?

Begging money for your son.

He probably does not exist either, the son of somebody else.

Wow, this is a criminal offense right there.

Hide yourself.

Human wreck.

Happy to have destroyed my present, my future, my dreams.

Trust a piece of shit, that is what I did.

Anything I said stands true.

How you do not exist, you do not even have a picture of yourself.

You do not exist. How can it fail?

it was not all me. this complication is why it took so long to tell you the truth.

I will not read you, you do not have a picture, you do not exist, all no, your entire life is a fake, your village is a fake.

i may be wrong on many accounts but not on the ones you think.

you are not making sense yet. i will give you time to process.

i am in nigeria, not somalia. i am not a hacker or scammer.

i am a graphic designer, writer and photographer.

i am really not feeling well and i am grateful for your assistance as it helped start my treatment.

(I am sure when he said that he was using the made-up sentences already written for scammers.)

but i will not argue with you. i know you deserve an explanation, but i believe you know all you need to already.

you already knew that months ago.

I sent him all the pictures of Andy and his son.

THIS IS NOT YOU. DO PUT YOUR FUCKING PICTURE ON, ASSHOLE. PUT YOUR GOD DAMN PICTURE IN AND LET ME LIVE MY LIFE.

HE DID NOT.

because I was more worried about how you would take the truth, I kept hinting at it, trying to tell you the truth and holding back for your sake each time...

I do not own the account on tiktok. I manage it for the person I used to work for. I left the job and inleft with your information so that no one could text you pretending to be me.

I already told you who i am. black.

I am not Andy.

iam trying to fix what I broke because something feels broken inside me each time I lie to you.

There is nothing to fix.

This is about telling you the truth about...Showing you whom you fell in love with.

I fell in love with a liar.

it is about freeing myself from the fear of a love I could lose when the love is not true in the first place.

Would you have fallen for me otherwise? the answer is no.

chapter 17 19 22

Chapter 17

The Buoy and the Drifting Sailor

Life had its ups and downs... and this autumn season, as beautiful as it was, was also depressing. October didn’t seem to be getting any better. Returning to the void caused more damage than I expected, and the month was very stormy. Something with Andy wasn’t right anymore, and I had to deal with his mood swings.

I occupied myself with my songs so I wouldn’t dwell on it. I was slowly but surely detaching myself from this journey. I had told myself I should withdraw, as usual, away from everything, and return to my hermit life in the mountains in my cabin to stop feeling anything at all. But Andy's messages only drove the iron deeper into the wound. Whether we like it or not, we are all addicted to these social sites—TikTok, Instagram, WhatsApp, YouTube. It’s part of our customs today, even for a hermit like me, and yet that is where I got caught. So I had told myself I wouldn’t respond to his numerous invitations anymore and just post my songs without getting attached... but it’s hard to be a hermit and live seeing how many "clicks" you'll get for the next song. I wasn't doing marketing; I was investing in the human.

Yet, in the middle of this swell, there had been promises. Strong words, like anchors he threw out to hold me. He said he was going to leave everything behind—the Navy, his retirement, everything—to come and join me. I was even waiting for him for Thanksgiving, here in Canada. But all that was just nonsense. Bullshit, over and over again. When was I going to put an end to all of this?

By October 11th, I was starting to lose faith. There was something fishy with this "handsome" Andy. I felt he was in a nameless storm, that the swell was rising, and that he was heading toward a shipwreck. This sailor seemed to be in desperate need of a life buoy. You could feel he was tormented about leaving the Navy to join Louise. He holds a secret within him that he wants to confess, but he is capsized, so he pushes me away.

At the end of my rope, faced with his absurd nonsense and mean-spirited messages, I chose not to seek war. I am far from a U.S. Navy Marine; I seek peace and avoid trouble. He asked me to "recentre" myself, so I did. I used spiritual wisdom—Indian, Chinese, and North American Indigenous—to help me. To be a great sage, one must involve themselves in giving and find the richness of humanity. As Fratelli Tutti says, worldly wisdom is the fruit of dialogue.

I took a crash course with Gemini to recentre myself according to the Chinese doctrine of Wu Wei: letting things flow, and using humor to lighten the burden. I then texted him with all my equanimity:

"I hope you slept well. I have recentred myself as you asked. I’ve realized that in our relationship, equanimity is the foundation upon which my inner peace is built. You are my steady anchor that allows the boat of the self to navigate the stormy seas of the world while remaining centred in trust. Your commitment gives me internal safety without running away. We haven't reached perfection yet, but it is acceptable in the practice of Wabi-sabi."

And because I knew there was something fishy going on, and because in Canada, we know that humor can calm the storms, I ended up writing this song: "This is how we say sorry in Canada". It’s my way of bombarding his darkness with peace, harmony, and a bit of "Peace and Love" magic.

By turning to these ancient wisdoms, I understood the essential: a sage does not seek to destroy the other, even the one who hurts or lies to us. She seeks, above all, to remain at peace.

So i will stay zen and calm until the storm pass bye.

Chapitre 16 15 40

nohvelle versiin ici a traduire

I understand perfectly. We will maintain the raw, personal narrative of your return—the grey screen on the plane and the Adirondack chair—and then weave the cinematic "Broadway" vision into that specific moment where your creative therapy begins.

Here is the complete, integrated Chapter 16.

CHAPTER 16: The Virtual Crash and the Alchemy of Contempt

In the plane, the moment I plugged in my cell phone, the screen went completely grey, suddenly filled with flickering Korean script. It was impossible to put it into airplane mode, let alone turn it off. The flight attendants, too busy with boarding, were unreachable. It was serious: a wave of fear washed over me that my entire life was disappearing in an instant. My travel photos, my safari memories, and especially my many songs—more than ninety in total—everything was about to be erased. I felt as if I were about to disappear myself.

Sitting in that aircraft, the torture of reality was intense. Between a dying phone, the incredible images of my safari, and a drift toward the fiction of my failed loves, I felt the universe drastically cutting me off from my virtual world. My life had just shifted. To clear my mind, I reached for my brown bag and took my frustrations out on a kilogram of wagyu biltong during my nineteen-hour flight.

I finally notified the flight attendant when he brought my tray. To say he seemed not to care would be an understatement. I told him I wanted to speak to the supervisor: my phone worked perfectly before I plugged it into the outlet. If it was "capout," I wanted compensation. It was unacceptable to lose my songs, my photos, and, of course, Andy's number. You can't cut off a heart overnight, like a butcher would do with a beef heart! Believe it or not, they waited until I finally fell asleep to wake me up. Seeing that the device was indeed stuck on that grey Korean screen, they lent me their own charger, hoping it would put it back in a "good mood." I looked for my bag of biltong, my camera… I consoled myself by thinking that at least I had a backup for my photos.

Back home, I was happy to recount my journey to South Africa and throw my other love disappointments into the memory hole. Autumn had settled in; the leaves were slowly turning red. I kept busy closing the garden for winter, but once seated in my Adirondack chair, facing the sunset, tears would flow. I had to face the facts: it had been quite a trip, and I was happy to be back in one piece. Love had never really been present in my life, except for a few rare occasions. Ultimately, I felt lucky to still be able to have a little fun at my age. Does love have an age?

I lost myself heart and soul in writing my songs. They overwhelmed me, they bruised me, but they were my therapy. This was the birth of my musical, TANGER. I didn't just see a stage; I saw a cinematic masterpiece.

The scene opens on a massive ship cutting through dark, oily water. We see a Marine, a man who has lost his wife, embarking on a voyage to forget. The atmosphere is heavy; you hear the Marines singing a cappella, their voices rhythmic and raw as they work the ship. Upon arrival in Tanger, the mood shifts. They are all on the deck, a massive ensemble singing a lovely, soaring song of arrival. As he disembarks, he comes face to face with a woman selling tangerines. For one week, they live an idyllic romance, a dream built on words that will disappear the moment the ship leaves the port. She is left at the pier, waiting for a Marine who will never return. All the lies end up at the bottom of the sea.

He was my tormentor, but he became my darkest muse. I took his violence and passed it through the sieve of my talent. While he vented his rage on me through toxic messages, accusing me of "betrayal" for spending my own teacher's pension on my trip, I was writing:

“I am the Tangerine woman, glowing in the sun,

Waiting for a battle that’s already been won.

My heart is a pier, weathered and grey,

Watching the love of my life sail away.

My hopes are like stones, heavy and deep,

Drowning in secrets the ocean will keep.”

I was creating monumental musical phenomena, never suspecting that the thread binding us in real life was already stretching to its breaking point.

CHAPITRE 16 :

LE CRASH VIRTUEL ET L’ALCHIMIE DU MÉPRIS

Dans l’avion, au moment de brancher mon cellulaire, l’écran est devenu tout gris, soudainement rempli d’écritures coréennes. Impossible de le mettre en mode avion, et encore moins de l’éteindre. Les agents de bord, trop occupés par l’embarquement, étaient inaccessibles. C’était sérieux : une vague de peur m’a envahie à l’idée que toute ma vie disparaisse d’un seul coup. Mes photos de voyage, mes souvenirs de safari, et surtout mes nombreuses chansons plus de quatre-vingt-dix au total

tout était sur le point d’être effacé.

J'avais l'impression que j'allais moi-même disparaître.

Assise dans cet appareil, la torture de la réalité était intense. Entre un téléphone en train de rendre l'âme, les images incroyables de mon safari et une dérive vers la fiction de mes amours ratés, j'ai senti l'univers me couper drastiquement de mon monde virtuel. Ma vie venait de basculer. Pour me vider la tête, j'ai sorti mon sac brun et je me suis défoulée sur un kilo de biltong de wagyu pendant mes dix-neuf heures de vol.

J’ai fini par en avertir l’agent de bord au moment où il m’apportait mon plateau. C’est peu dire qu’il semblait s’en foutre. C’était invraisemblable. Je lui ai dit que je voulais parler au superviseur : mon téléphone fonctionnait parfaitement avant que je ne le branche dans la prise de United Airlines. S’il était « capout », je voulais une compensation. Il était inacceptable de perdre mes chansons, mes photos et, bien sûr, le numéro d’Andy. On ne peut pas couper un cœur du jour au lendemain, comme un boucher le ferait avec un cœur de bœuf !

Croyez-le ou non, ils ont attendu que je m’endorme enfin pour venir me réveiller. Merde ! Constatant que l’appareil était bel et bien bloqué sur cet écran gris coréen, ils m’ont prêté leur propre chargeur, espérant que cela le remettrait « de bonne humeur ». Je cherchais mon sac de biltong, ma caméra… je me consolais en me disant qu'au moins, j’avais un back-up pour mes photos.

De retour à la maison, j’étais heureuse de raconter mon périple en Afrique du Sud et de jeter mes autres déceptions aux oubliettes.

L’automne s’était installé ; les feuilles rougissaient petit à petit. Je m’occupais avec la fermeture du jardin, mais une fois assise dans ma chaise Adirondack, face au coucher du soleil, les larmes coulaient. Il fallait se rendre à l’évidence : c’était un sacré voyage, et j’étais heureuse d’être revenue en un seul morceau.

L’amour n’avait jamais vraiment été au rendez-vous dans ma vie, à part quelques rares occasions : un cocaïnomane, un Anglais qui se traînait les pieds, un Australien macho, un Français marié qui voulait m’épouser, ou encore ce Croate kidnappé juste avant nos fiançailles à Noël… Finalement, je me trouvais chanceuse d’avoir pu m’amuser encore un peu à mon âge.

L'amour a- t- il un âge?

Je me perdais corps et âme dans l’écriture de mes chansons. Elles me bouleversaient, me meurtrissaient, mais c’était ma thérapie. L’écriture procure des moments si profonds qu’on ne trouve la satisfaction qu’en éternisant ses sentiments dans des mélodies, comme mes comédies musicales Tanger ou Vittoria de l’amore — des œuvres monumentales pour moi.

À ce moment-là, le contact avec Andy était devenu plus que houleux. Lui, cet amoureux bizarre, s’était transformé en juge. Il me blâmait sans cesse d’être partie en Afrique du Sud. Il était furieux que j’aie utilisé mes rentes de professeur — ce pécule durement gagné après des années de service au Québec — pour m’offrir enfin cette évasion. C’était mon argent, le fruit de ma carrière, mais il en était jaloux. Il me reprochait de ne plus participer à son « bien-être » et de dépenser une fortune pour moi-même au lieu de la garder pour lui. Selon sa logique, j’aurais dû privilégier son « sauvetage », financer sa sortie de la Marine pour qu’il puisse enfin venir me rejoindre au Canada, comme il le prétendait sans cesse. À ses yeux, mon voyage était une trahison envers ses besoins à lui.

Ses messages étaient un mélange toxique de philosophie de comptoir et d'agressions verbales. Il m’écrivait

: « Love scares us all…

my love for you isn’t a prison », pour ensuite me traiter de démon qui « drainait son énergie » (demon farming) simplement parce que je ne comprenais rien à son « cirque de la Marine ». Il me réclamait de l’argent pour réparer une carte eSIM, tout en me menaçant de trouver « quelqu'un d'autre » si je ne l'aidais pas. Entre deux vidéos ridicules, il revenait avec un « I’m sorry, I’m lost without you ».

Sur le coup, j’effaçais tout. Je voulais nettoyer mon écran de sa violence. Mais ce qu’il ne comprenait pas, c’est que cet amoureux bizarre était devenu, malgré lui, ma muse la plus sombre.

Il était mon bourreau et ma muse.

Le matin, il me méprisait et me blâmait ; le soir, sa noirceur devenait le carburant de mes nuits de création. Il n'écrivait pas avec moi, mais il écrivait à travers moi. Je prenais sa violence et je la passais au tamis de mon talent pour en faire de la lumière. Il pensait me drainer, mais je recyclais son mépris pour enfanter des chefs-d'œuvre.

Pendant qu’il se défoulait sur moi, je composais sans relâche pour Tanger. Chaque insulte devenait une mélodie, chaque reproche une preuve d’amour incroyable que je jetais sur le papier. Je créais des phénomènes musicaux monumentaux, sans me douter que le fil qui nous liait était déjà en train de se tendre jusqu'à son point de rupture.

chapter 15 Chapter 15:

The Weight of Hope

"Let’s go! Sorry to have kept you waiting," I said to Joseph. "We can finally leave. It’s going to be a beautiful day."

"Yes," Joseph replied. He knew exactly what had happened, but he didn't dare say more for the moment. He stuck to the tour. We went to see the majestic Table Mountain, then Greenmarket, the Muslim quarter, before taking the road to see the penguins. It was fabulous: the coastal road, the mountain slopes of all kinds stretching forever with strange, exceptional rock formations. My father would have loved to "claim" land here to discover what was hidden beneath this rocky African soil.

Except that there, while we were driving toward the beach, I was in for a lecture—the full treatment. Joseph could see that I was texting, and he wanted to know more about my life and my love stories. Since he was a world away from my country and he was married, the road invited confidences. Naturally, I told him everything. He had a flair for it and had correctly spotted that my Andy wasn't "my" Andy, the U.S. Navy doctor, but a total charlatan.

I had explained to Joseph, however, that it was over with Bon Jovi; I just wanted him to know the truth. My "crush" had taken a hit. Dating an idol married at 66 was a bit crazy, and Andy had simply slipped into my daily life on TikTok. He seemed like a kind soul, full of good intentions, supporting many humanitarian causes... and I was going to show Joseph that it was true.

The discussion continued all the way to Berta’s, in a small seaport, where we once again enjoyed lobsters and oysters while talking about my wild stories with Andy. Joseph kept telling me stories about his friends in Rwanda, Congo, or South Africa who were getting scammed by "Nigerians" those seductive charmers of social media. They swindled girls all over the world and stole their money. Joseph had clearly seen what had happened at the bank.

As we were finishing the meal, I received a text from Andy that distressed me, and Joseph noticed. Fortunately, this country was full of beautiful discoveries. The penguins were waiting for me; too bad I couldn't swim with them the water was freezing. After a good photo session, we stopped at a vineyard. The vineyard was manicured to the centimeter, with a sophisticated, even chilly atmosphere. We took our seats at a long bar under a massive red chandelier. We did a tasting, and it was mostly Joseph who drank everything. Nothing interested me. Was it the wine that was bad, or the bad news I was receiving?

Over a glass of champagne, I had to contact the travel agency. They had made a monumental error that was snowballing onto my other flight. Instead of forgetting my far-fetched lovers by drinking champagne, I had to play a puzzle game to secure my departure, because flights out of Cape Town are always full. Then, we made a second, much more pleasant stop at the Constantia vineyard. There, I was truly charmed. Joseph was a good friend, a good advisor, and a very kind travel companion. He could see clearly that I was in a mess with my social media love stories. I didn't want to leave South Africa anymore. I felt good there.

Back in Cape Town, I had reflected deeply and stopped looking at my phone. Arriving at my room, I took a good nap, then I went to eat a little something. The next morning, I went to the flower market, I returned to the Green Market to listen to choirs of young Africans singing. Finally, I left for Johannesburg with hopem always that hope that Andy would arrive with his son to join me so we could leave for Canada together.

That was not the case.

He never showed up. I stayed standing at the United Airlines counter, lost in my thoughts, waiting for my boarding pass for four hours in the hope of seeing him come running with his son... I had even bought a huge bag of biltong for them to eat on board, notebooks for his son because he loved to write, a hoody from Lesotho and a South Africa cap to build a bond right from the start.

Then, I took a deep breath and I boarded the plane all by myself, like a big girl. That was the end of the adventure.

chapter 14 ok ok

Chapter 14: Discovering Cape Town

I was in "attack mode," ready to scream and run. The double-decker bus office was still quite far for a high-risk zone for a "little white-skinned woman" like me. Fortunately, I arrived safe and sound, only to be told that it wasn't at this location, but further away; I had to take a taxi to get there and they would call one for me.

There were two white ladies there, older than me, wearing shorts (really!), and they were heading exactly where I had just come from. I forbade them from going, telling them it was too dangerous to venture there. I then realized they wanted to do the same thing as me, so I shared my taxi with them, lucky things, they were staying here for a month! I sat in the front with the driver, the very kind Joseph.

He was super friendly and spoke both English and French. He kindly dropped us off at the other meeting point for the tours. I had signed up for a guided city tour to see the sunset, and I made sure to let everyone know where I was on WhatsApp; it was safer that way.

I had even messaged Andy before leaving my room. I let him know I still existed, that I was doing this trip without him, and I showed him the pretty little room I had found.

Anyway, when I got out of the taxi, Joseph offered to pick me up later. I told him I would likely go for dinner, and he suggested some great restaurants to discover just a few steps away. I just had to send him a message on WhatsApp. It was very nice of him.

I loved my late afternoon in Cape Town. I would move there tomorrow morning those mountains in the heart of the city, the waterfront, those marvelous colors... but once again, I was cold. I had my Lesotho hoodie on, but with my parachute fabric pants, it really wasn't enough. Still, there was no way I wasn't sitting on the second deck! Wow! It was simply sublime. Between Vancouver and Cape Town, I would have a hard time choosing... because here, you have the penguins, the safaris...

We went all the way to the top of the mountain. Since I suffer from vertigo, I stayed leaned over and sent WhatsApp messages to Andy. I was so excited! I sent him photos, then huddled down to keep warm. The view from up there was breathtaking.

I waited in line to buy a hot chocolate only I would do that in South Africa! And to my surprise, it was one of the best hot chocolates I’ve ever had, right after Godiva. The timing of the sunset was perfect; an ideal spot for lovers... but mine wasn't there.

I was disappointed and sad, but I had to face the facts: it was a virtual love with a "je-ne-sais-quoi." After all, I hadn't even really seen him on video on WhatsApp yet. What was I expecting from this guy? Absolutely nothing. I had to face the evidence: he hadn't come. He hadn't made the journey from Somalia to South Africa or Lesotho to see me. That spoke volumes. He still messaged me at the exact time of the sunset... but was I going to settle for so little in my life? No. I was having an excellent trip. I would make a decision when I got back.

For now, it gave me a virtual companion for the journey, and I felt less alone, or perhaps worse...to see that Im still alone to see this beautiful sites without any one to share and see in their eyes de beauty of the world.

Chapter13 ok ok

Title:

A Coffee, A Shooter... A Coffee, Another Shooter.

The wake-up call was brutal, but the sounds of the bush were still magical. We walked back up the long path to the camp office which, all things considered—without the rain, thunder, and darkness—was actually quite nice. We had breakfast by the lake where the tilapias were jumping, and then we left for a bush walk. But oh! It was so disappointing. He talked about insects for an hour, all while carrying his big rifle. I watched them eat "bambi droppings

" what the fuck, I swear! and the two other Canadians did it along with the Colombian girl. No, no, no... Anyway, we were on the lookout for wild beasts, but nothing came to scare us. Then, we hit the road toward Johannesburg, passing through magical scenery.

South Africa is truly beautiful! The roads are better than in Quebec, the mountains are hallucinating, the heights impressive. Honestly, the drive back is like being in a canyon; we stopped to take breathtaking photos and bring back souvenirs, but I was very limited by the space in my backpack...

On my way back, I tried to book a room again at the Marriott Protea, and it was a nightmare. I will never book with Expedia again. I found myself sitting at the counter for 4 hours waiting for them to give me a room. It’s a shame, I really loved that hotel. While I was explaining my misfortunes to Andy, he wouldn't stop insisting I go check out some crypto machines. I’d had enough of all that; he was starting to get on my nerves. Anyway, I went to the hotel bar and made some friends, then ate some fries and went to bed exhausted.

The next day, I made the most of it, relaxing by the pool, and there again, Andy was nagging me to go see the crypto machines. I didn't give a damn, and he didn't seem to want to come see me. I went to see downtown Johannesburg again, but since it's dangerous, it’s not cool. I was looking for warm clothes because it was always cold, but it was a big shopping mall for the rich. I put money on my eSIM card and got ripped off somewhere in Africa—by the time I got back, I had $400 in payments to make, but I just wasn't in the right headspace for that.

Anyway, when I returned to the hotel, I had no idea what I was doing. The manager was still looking for me to pay for the room again because of Expedia; it was hell. So when I saw that, I just left, packed my bags for the airport, and told Andy I was going to Lesotho to give some money to Harrison, his son, and go horseback riding in the mountains.

I found a plane ticket and left. That vacation was great leaving whenever I felt like it. Oh, the people are so kind, and the country is mountainous and desert-like. I got a SIM card, a minivan, and went to a hotel. I had asked the woman at the tourist desk for a recommendation

-oh my god, a huge hotel with very kitsch decor. Anyway, maybe I was finally going to meet Andy and drink that famous bottle of champagne I’d been carrying since I arrived, which the flight attendant had given me when I got off the plane for my big meeting with my lover.

When I got to my room, Andy called me. This time I could hear his voice clearly, and he told me all sorts of things and sang me another beautiful song, saying he would do everything possible to come and that I should stay at least two days in Lesotho so he could try to break free. I went to eat and had a soup.

The next day, I was sick as a dog. It was cold everywhere, and I never should have eaten that soup. Lesson learned. I stayed in my room as long as possible, alone with my shivers in that freezing cold, before finding the strength to change hotels. I finally went down to grab a coffee and wrote a very sad song on a piece of napkin.

What a situation: the hotel I wanted to go to didn't want to take white tourists. Bang, right in the face. Even the driver was stunned because security told him they were flat-out banning me from entering. So the taxi driver took me to a very typical Lesotho hotel where I had my own "Lesotho-style" round room with a thatched roof too cute and a huge bed. It was perfect.

Then I contacted Andy to tell him to reach out to Harrison so we could meet and I could give him some pocket money to survive until his father got out of Somalia. I went to the mall to find a warm hoodie, but nothing doing; I ate some Kentucky Fried Chicken and took a taxi to explore the surroundings. It was neat—very poor, but the people were very kind and friendly.

Back at the hotel, still no news from Andy. My "cat was dead" with that one, anyway. My room was freezing, so I asked for blankets and ate at the hotel bar. In South Africa and Lesotho, I have never seen such big bums or such big cakes! I ate super well—a club sandwich, a glass of wine—and I had some of those famous cakes and WhatsApped my mom and sister at the same time. I thought about heading back to Montreal, but finally, I hesitated and decided to continue to Cape Town. Oh! I never regretted it.

As I was packing my bags to leave Lesotho, I carefully tucked that famous bottle of champagne into my bag. It had traveled all this way with me through the freezing mountains, intact. I didn’t open it there. I finally brought it all the way back to Quebec. It crossed borders and oceans. Who knows, maybe I’ll drink it one day with that famous Andy?

Early the next morning, I had to catch a flight to Johannesburg and then to Cape Town. It went great. In Johannesburg, there are people and agencies that help you find a ticket; they are super kind and actually walk you right to the counter. And guess what? I managed to snag a Lesotho hoodie at the airport at 6:00 AM that would keep me warm for the rest of the trip... but who would have thought I'd be freezing in South Africa! Too bad for Andy; I wasn't going to stay in Lesotho indefinitely. I would have done the mountain excursion with him because I’m way too afraid of heights. My only regret was that he hadn't given me the name of the private college so I could bring the money to his son, claiming he wanted to be there, etc. Just more of the bullshit he always had to say... It seemed pretty obvious he wasn't coming and that I wouldn't see him at all.

Anyway, we didn't care; I was leaving for Cape Town to see the penguins and that magnificent part of the country. That extraordinary city—I would move there tomorrow morning. A beautiful country and very safe once you get out of Johannesburg. Although, if you find yourself, as I did under the hotel manager's recommendations, in a rather sketchy part of Cape Town... it was the drug district. I didn't understand why I was sent there. Luckily I’d seen it all before; a skinny policeman stood at every lamppost to enforce the law. I was so scared that I rushed into a shop, and there, the woman explained everything to me. I had four more blocks to walk before I could catch the double-decker bus for my guided tour.

Chapter 12 ok

Chapter 12

I had finally finished dropping off my luggage in my beautiful "glam tent," but almost immediately, the driver called us to explore the site and show us the toilets and showers. It was quite a trek—not a pleasant prospect for getting up in the middle of the night. He had given us walkie-talkies in case nature called or if a visitor from the bush decided to attack us. It was perfect; we were the only ones on this site.

I zipped the first zipper, then the second. I plugged in all my chargers and sent a quick message to say that I was still alive everyone.

I was exhausted. Andy seemed happy enough to find me still alive, though he didn't really seem to believe me.

For my part, I hadn't told him that I had received money from my years of teaching in Quebec just before my departure; it was my insurance, allowing me to do whatever I wanted with my vacation thanks to this money that had fallen from the sky.

I had heard the Colombian girl—the "fofolle" with her little headscarf like a Mormon—going to shower. She was looking for trouble, that one. I even heard an elephant while she was at the far end of the camp.

I had been told not to go out alone, but to hell with it. I had to go. I made sure I positioned myself with my back to the moon so I could watch the shadows on the ground, and I swear I peed at a phenomenal speed.

But once everything is zipped back up, you can't see a thing outside. It’s stressful; I think I’d prefer a window after all.

We had to be ready for 5:45 AM. They didn't go easy on the early wake-up calls here; you really have to be a morning person, otherwise safaris aren't for you. By the time we picked everyone up and had breakfast at the other camp, we reached the actual Kruger Park around 9:00 AM. As I left my tent, monkeys were eating in our jeep—it was pretty funny.

We spent the day in the park, and it was brilliant. As soon as we arrived, we saw the white lion and the other lions. It was fantastic. We stopped for lunch, I pulled out some cash just in case, and in the afternoon, I was the only one who managed to photograph the leopard from our group. An incredible moment, as those animals are the best at playing hide-and-seek. Along the way ehen we werr in th3 bush, I shared my photos with my mother and Andy so it felt lik3 I was not all alone on thos trip.

When evening came, we didn't return to the same tent. What a nightmare! It started to rain; we couldn't see a damn thing. we had to drop people off and get back on the road amidst lightning and thunder. I was exhausted. The Colombian girl and I were headed to another "glam tent," but we literally descended into hell. We moved forward with our headlamps, our suitcases constantly snagging on rocks in a sort of crater. When he showed us our tents..i was furious. No fucking way. It wasn't "glam"; it was total misery. A plywood door.

I completely lost it. I was "à boutte," I jad it ! I couldn't stop crying. This wasn't what I had paid for.

The Colombian girl came to get me for dinner, but I stayed there. There was only one single outlet to plug in all my devices. I was frustrated.

The camp guy brought me a meal and offer me to charge my cellnup at the office and a glass of wine so I went up with him as he promise to come back down with me and he 3xpkain me why he had put a plywood door on. A real soldier's boot camp—it was hell.

Fatigue had taken over and I had fallen asleep on top of the covers, for fear of finding insects or scorpions inside. I was still wearing my nylon clothes meant for high heat, but they were soaked. The humidity chilled me to the bone and hypothermia was setting in. I was almost delirious, unable to get up. It was the click of WhatsApp that woke me up. It was Andy. He was sending me voice notes. I told him I was too cold, that I couldn't move anymore.

He then took an imperative tone, almost military. He ordered me to get up, to take dry clothes from my suitcase, and to change. I kept telling him I was unable to. He ordered me a second time, even more firmly, to take off my wet clothes and finally get under the covers. His voice was my only anchor. Thanks to him, I found the strength to change and wrap myself up. The warmth returned. I finally fell asleep thanks to my hero, Andy. Without that click and his firmness, I don't know if I would have seen the sunrise for the bush walk.

chapter 11 ok

Chapter 11 ok

I still remember arriving at the airport, standing speechless in front of a cryptocurrency ATM. That evening, I sent a photo of my meal to Andy; it was the signal that things were getting serious. The comfort of Johannesburg was fading away to make room for the unknown.

Until the last minute, Andy kept asking for money via crypto. I told him I had cash and the little one would get cash, period. I finally told him I didn't know how to use the ATM and it would have to wait. I was going to enjoy my safari snagged at a great price. I didn't tell my family anything so they wouldn't "lose it." No one was going to ruin my trip. Not even Andy.

After 8 hours on the road picking everyone up, I found myself in front of an old tent and walls that looked really rough. No "glamping" here. I was discouraged. Luckily, another girl and I put the pressure on to be moved after the safari.

Before leaving, we did a 4-hour night safari in the freezing cold. We saw a third white rhino pawing the ground, ready to fight for a female! It was intense. In the dark, the zebras looked like angels and the giraffes were magnificent. Back at camp, we ate a pathetic meal while hyenas prowled. One took a piece of meat; better that than a piece of my leg!

After dropping off the group, we took our bags. The driver flew at 100 km/h through the brush, not on a road. It was terrifying. I felt so alone in the dark, wondering what would happen if we hit an elephant or a rhino.

chapitre 10 ok ok

Chapitre 10

Jour 2 :

De la déception à la découverte

Le deuxième matin à Johannesburg a confirmé mon intuition de la veille. Le décor de Sandown avait beau être correct, l'expérience n'y était pas. Devant mon assiette de bacon mou et d'œufs froids, j'ai pris une décision : mon voyage méritait mieux que "moyen".

Une fois mes valises bouclées, j'ai appelé un taxi pour le Marriott Protea. C’est là que le voyage a vraiment commencé à prendre son envol. J'y ai rencontré Cynthia, une femme d'une efficacité redoutable. Comme ma chambre n'était pas prête avant 15h, elle n'a pas hésité : en quelques minutes, elle me dénichait un tour guidé. Mes bagages en consigne, je repartais déjà pour quatre heures d'exploration intense à travers la ville.

Le soir, de retour à l'hôtel, je me suis installée au bar pour décompresser. Sur le menu, un choix a attiré mon attention : l'autruche. J'étais curieuse, mais un peu hésitante. Quelle surprise ! C'était tout simplement divin. Plus tendre qu'un filet mignon, avec une saveur riche et unique. Ce souper était le signal que les choses sérieuses commençaient enfin.

Voici la petite phrase exacte, telle qu'il vous l'a écrite, prête à être insérée dans votre récit :

« I’m trying everything possible to join you. But it is not easy to leave Somalia without being a target. Remember, i have no ID on me... i will try my best. »

Mon journal

Mon voyage

SOUTH AFRICA

JOHANNESBURG

KRUGER PARK

LESOTHO

CAPE TOWN

• Passeport et visa (si nécessaire)
• Billets d'avion et réservations

1 soir a la fois

• Vêtements légers et à manches longues pour les soirées
• Chapeau et lunettes de soleil
• Crème solaire et insectifuge
• Chargeurs et adaptateurs de voyage
• Appareil photo et jumelles
• Trousse de premiers secours
• Petit sac à dos pour les excursions
• Argent liquide et cartes de crédit

Result:

Not enough visa

Not enough warm clothes

VISITE JOHANNESBURG

Montreal Newark Johannesburg

Conseil: skip it just go to Cape Town.

Arrivée

TAXI

HOTEL DANS SANDOWN

SO SO

TOUS LES MATINS LE BACON N EST JAMAIS CROUSTILLANT

TOUS LES MATINS LES OEUFS SONT TOUJOURS FROIDS.

Hotel

Je quitte je réserve un autre hotel

Check hotel deal

Taxi

Hotel Marriott Protrea

Check in 15.00 donc laisse mes bagages en consigne

Grâce à Cynthia elle book un tour et je quitte pour 4 heures

I went for diner at the restaurant bar at the hotel hotel

Perfect

Ostrich on the menu

LOVED IT

It tasted like steak even better.

MANDELA MUSEUM

SOWETO

Mandela

chapter 10 ok

Chapter 10

Day 2: From Disappointment to Discovery

My second morning in Johannesburg confirmed the intuition I’d had the night before. Sandown's decor may have been decent, but the experience simply wasn’t there. Staring at my plate of limp bacon and cold eggs, I made a decision: my trip deserved better than "average."

Once my bags were packed, I called a taxi for the Marriott Protea. That is where the journey truly began to take flight. There, I met Cynthia, a woman of formidable efficiency. Since my room wasn’t going to be ready until 3:00 PM, she didn’t hesitate: within minutes, she had found me a guided tour. With my luggage safely stored, I was already off for four hours of intense exploration through the city.

That evening, back at the hotel, I settled in at the bar to unwind. On the menu, one choice caught my eye: ostrich. I was curious, though a bit hesitant. What a surprise! It was simply divine. More tender than a filet mignon, with a rich and unique flavor. That dinner was the signal that the real adventure was finally beginning.

« I’m trying everything possible to join you. But it is not easy to leave Somalia without being a target. Remember, i have no ID on me... i will try my best. »

My Journal / Notes

The Trip: South Africa

(Johannesburg, Kruger Park, Lesotho, Cape Town)

Arrival in Sandown: Skip it, just go to Cape Town.
The Issue: Every morning the bacon is never crispy and the eggs are always cold.
The Turnaround: Switched to Marriott Protea. Thanks to Cynthia, she booked a tour and I left for 4 hours.
Dinner: Tried Ostrich at the hotel restaurant. Loved it. Tasted like steak, even better.
Observations: * Not enough visa information.
- Not enough warm clothes.

Bilingual blog

First visit after ....

Visit

South africa

2 days

Johannesburg

3 days Kruger

2 nights

1 night

Johannesburg

1 morning Johannesburg

1night in Lesotho

1 day

1night

10RAND = 0.79CDN DOLLAR

Departure

Cape town

1 night

1 day

1 night

1 morning

Departure

Cape town Johannesburg

Departure

Johannesburg Newark Montreal

Lets go!

Population South Africa

63 M

Johannesburg

6.4

CAPE TOWN

5.1 MILLION

Money Rand

10 rands for 0.79 canadian dollars

LANGUAGE

Afrikaans

E lnglish

Misindebele

Isi xhosa

Isi Zuku

Sepedi

Sesothi

Stetswan

Siswatit

Shivenda

Xitsinga

Sasl sign

LANGUAGE SPOKEN IN

LESOTHO

LESOTHI

SESOTHI

ENGLISH

ZULU

XHOSA

SOWETO Maseru 490,000

Day 1

Departure

What an adventure

I went for a safari and afterwards was going to meet a friend.

Unfortunately he was called for duty....

Departure

Montreal Newark

1 hr and a half flight

Many hours wait in Newark airport

Newark airport

Cost a fortune

Hamburger coke

And an adaptor for South Africa

40.00

Tooth paste

And some fun stuff for kids to give away.

Destination
SOUTH AFRICA
Where my heart is..

The day before my departure.

Preparation:
Suitcase check
Packsack check
Passport ticket check
Insurance
Malaria pills

Med check

check...

Left home
9:00 am

FLIGHTS

Montreal Newark Air Canada

Montreal airport

Cafe startbuck et madeleine
Changer de l'argent 500.00
600.00cdn

Departure 13.15

14.24 landing
Wait time
6 hours

You need to change terminal
Need to take a shuttle
To terminal C

Walk walk walk
No body to help

No body

if you can not use your phone to navigate and book stuff stay home!

And surprise surprise
If Trump had kick all the immigrants this airport would be close.

Spending at airport in New York

Achats:

plug for

Afrique du Sud

Very important this plug is jumbo too.

30.00

A must

Even 5 stars hotel dont have usb plugs.

DONT HAVE ENOUGH PLUGS

ITS HELL

CHARGER FOR CAMERA 2 BATTERIES

CHARGER FOR POWER PACK 30 HOURS MINIMUM

CHARGER FOR CELLPHONE.

Charger for tablet.

Charger for your fan for heat

short usb cord to go from your purse to cell phone at all time.

As you take many photo

Long usb cord for hotel

Never at the right place

I LIKE IT NEAR THE BED

Achat hamburger #26.00 US
Achat eau et pate à dent

Conclusion
100.00 US dépensé

FLIGHT

21: 00 united airline

Boarding et je ne savais pas si j'embarquais ou pas.

Grace aux pilotes
Jai pu embarquer.

Dans l'avion
J'ai pogné 2 passagers, un couple de:

pas gentils du tout.

Je sortais de ma bulle de social media on line pour parler a des gens....

Ça commence pas bien.

Ils ne m'ont pas adressé la parole du vol.

Ils étaient en tabarnac pcq je m'asseoyais au milieu et elle poussait son sac dans mon espace.

Comme je suis sur une passe, je n'ai pas dit un mot.

Nous arriverons dans 2 heures.
J'ai dormie une petit demie heure.

17:25

Arrival south Africa

Get e-sim

Need 3 times the amount the guys tell you and ask for internet.

The rest are all made by whats app

Rand money
Taxi to hotel Hilton Sandon

Pictures in the Hilton

SECOND DAY

Hotel so so

so hard

Je me lève et je tousse

NON stop

Jai du utiliser ma pompe

Je crois que le détergent qu'ils utilisent est trop fort.

Lit dur

déjeuner froid

Bacon gras

Pictures in the Hilton

Check for other hotels
Marriott was my first choice so

Taxi

Arrived at hotel Marriott Protea

Checked my bag

Checked my bag at the concierge
And went right away in a tour of the city
4 hours
Perfect

#DADDYS TOUR

Call this guy.if you ever go

Mini van chauffeur

Mandala museum history house ...

We had lunch
Chicken piripiri coca
The chaufeur get to eat free there
Street Zulu performers dancing
Music

Good ambiance

Cold chicken but cooked
Order a la carte

People are very nice friendly
MANDELA DAY

Visited a market

RETURN TO HOTEL RELAX BY THE POOL BEER
HAD DINNER AT THE HOTEL
OSTRICH BAKED POTATOES
TRIED SOME WHITE WINE

Exhausted

Had to Change room too noisy

Second day

Breakfast at hotel
My stomach is noisy
My eyes puffy
Woke up congestion

Really the detergent they use to clean the rooms or the starch for cleaning sheets doesnt go well with me.

The palm tree in my window
Garden: beautiful
Recommand this place 9 out of 10
Good vibe at night at the bars too...very busy.

Booked my safari with
DADDYS TOUR

WHO FOUND ME WHAT I NEEDED

BUDGET SAFARI

GLAM CAMPING

VIva tours
GlamIng campIng

Whst ever you call it

2 nights

10,895 rands

Birds are fun to hear here
Dryness is killing me

FOLLOW MY VACATIONS ON OTHER PARTS

Mini van chauffeur
We had.lunch
Chicken piripiri coca
The chaufeur get to est frer therr
Street Zulu performers dancing
Music
Cold chicken but cooked
Order a la carte

People are very nice friendly
MANDELA DAY

RETURN TO HOTEL RELAX BY THE POOL BEER
HAD.DINNER AT THE HOTEL
OSTRICH BAKED POTATOES
TRIED SOME WHITE WINE

Exhausted

Had to change room too noisy

Second day

Breakfast at hotel
My stomach is noisy
My eyes puffy
Woke up congestion

The palm tree in my window
Garden beautoful
Recommand this place

9 out of 10
Good vibe at night at the bar too

Booked my safari with
VIva
Glaming camping

2 nights

10,895 rand

Birds are fun to hear here

Dryness is killing me

And I went right away on a tour of the city

4 hours
Perfect
Mini van chauffeur

Saw Mandela museum

Went to Soweto

We had lunch
Chicken piri-piri coca
The chaufeur get to eat for frer there.

Street Zulu performers dancing
Music

Cold chicken but cooked
Order à la carte not the buffet not to get sick.

People are very nice friendly
MANDELA DAY

The chauffeur was excellent and recommanded me my safari.

RETURN TO HOTEL RELAX BY THE POOL

Had a beer by the pool to decide in my safari

DINNER AT THE HOTEL
OSTRICH BAKED POTATOES
TRIED SOME WHITE WINE

Woa food is amazing in South Africa

I GAIN 3KG

Exhausted

Had to change room too noisy

third day

Breakfast at hotel
My stomach is noisy
My eyes puffy
Woke up congestion

The palm tree in my window
Garden beautiful
Recommand this place 9 out of 10
Good vibe at night at the bar too

Booked my safari with
VIva
Glaming camping

2 nights

10,895 rand

Birds are fun to hear here

Dryness is killing me