I don't give money to panhandlers, I give 'em bikes

When I got here, I invested in a bike. It was good for getting around campus and to the shops. A friend here, Robert, took me under his wing and biked with me my first time to Jonkershoek Reserve- a bitch of a ride, largely up hill. I stopped to pass out several times and really thought I'd not make it, though I did. Later, he commented that it was impressive that I made it on my first try, as it had taken him three tries to make it- especially since I was too fat for my bike. Ok, he didn't say 'fat' but he said I was too big for the frame. I didn't know there were sizes. Sigh, of course there are sizes, and of course I need a plus-sized frame.

I traded it in for a really nice bike with shocks and a wheel that came off- both things I'd not been aware of, before. This is the bike I bonded with, riding to Jonkershoek and getting into shape.

Right after I shredded my knee, my friend/flatmate Sarah borrowed my bike to go to campus, where it of course got stolen- of course it was locked up. Classes had ended so it wasn't all that busy on campus, but still. My baby was gone. She got me a new bike that was as close to my old one as she could:

I never really liked this bike. The first time I rode it, the chain came off. When I took it to JH, the chain came off again, the back tire went dead flat, and that back tire also had shit for tread. Still though, when it got stolen last week I was pissed. I had parked it in a busy area and used a lock and it was broad daylight.

When I walked into the bike shop, the guy, who had sold me the others, recognized me and his jaw dropped when I told him. "Again?" I got a small discount, which was nice, but I'm sick of living like this, frankly. Lock everything up, double lock, get solid steel "U" locks and put everything in your trunk. Pay people when you pull out of a place because they're standing there and expect to be given money. Pestered for money 3 times in less than 24 hours, and God help you when you go to Cape Town, where they argue with you for money.

This is my 4th bike, I've named her Tia. She's German, like my 2nd bike, so I'm hopeful. I rode her to JH from the shop, my first attempt to JH during my recovery, and it was actually easier than the last time I had ridden up there, which was good. That picture on the right is on the way to JH, as you pass a vinyard.

To relax after the stresses of this awful semester (I hate molecular ecology, as I keep getting 30, 40 and 50%'s on assignments with vague guidelines), I find friends.

Last weekend I also encountered my first rain spider (insert shudder). Koos had a friend over, and after meeting my roaches, he just assumed I liked all creepy-crawlies, and proudly presented me with the giant spider he'd found outside. Though the hair shot up on the back of my neck, I couldn't back down, and I cautiously extended my hand- they can bite. The creepster skittled up my arm while I tried not to panic. I went outside to put it in a tree, and as soon as I got within 3 feet of it, the thing flat out disappeared. I asked Koos's friend to check my back/hair, as I don't think I'd have cared for putting my hair in a ponytail only to get a handful of spider.

Koos had, as usual, a braai, and had some "Texas steak." I got that pineapple for R9.99. That's about $1.25 US. It makes getting bikes stolen left and right a little more tolerable. The next braai, after South Africa's impotent World Cup play Sunday morning, had springbok and some sort of side of pork that was more fat than meat.

Things may turn up for me, though. My friend Gail lives on a farm, and she says I can get a baby duck and raise it a bit, then bring it to live (not be strangled and eaten) there. I need to check with Koos. I probably won't, but thinking about having a baby duck makes me feel better.