2016: My year of minimal international travel

I decided that 2016 would be a year with minimal international travel. After my North American annual TED sojourn in February, with a stop-over in Hawaii to see my goddaughter Giselle and family, I took one more week off for a Val Thorens ski trip with CN&CO client Club Med, where my work was to write and generate a few blogs. After that nyadda. Nothing. No travel until 2017. My reasons? Well, I have been crazy busy – too busy. As those close to me know, I have a high capacity for doing things and living a full and diverse life. But I felt I had reached my 150% and needed to cut back a bit, focus on routine and spend some time with those friends and family members I don’t see enough of. And how did my decision work out? Really badly is the short answer 🙂

TED 2016, Vancouver

I used to joke that I went overseas to have time to sleep, think and have sex. Seems that the joke is on me! Averaging five hours’ sleep a night, moving swiftly from one thing to the next with too little time for reading, creative thought and innovation and, well, let’s just say Men’s Health won’t be writing an article about me anytime soon 😉

And so, sitting in a coffee shop in Plettenberg Bay, drinking a delicious mug of strong, aromatic coffee (do you know btw that coffee was discovered in Ethiopia? – most good things come from Africa – and I used to part own a coffee shop in Addis) I am finally writing down a few thoughts that have been mulling around in my head.

I woke up this morning to do the Witsand walk at Robberg. I was introduced to this walk by my friend Julia and always think of her when I do it. I also think of her dad and my mum. His ashes are scattered at Robberg, my mum’s last birthday was spent in Julia’s house in Plett and they died a few, short weeks apart. Life (is it mine only? I really don’t think so) is so intertwined and interconnected. One of my greatest joys and gifts is having people, places, events and actions that seemingly aren’t easy bedfellows, combine to make my life a privilege and joy to live. As I like to say – put 1+1 together and get (at least) 22. My friend Colin (a pedant and brilliant writer) finds it odd and wants me to say 11. I don’t mind, as long as the answer isn’t 2.

This little blog is about nothing, really. And it is also about a lot – my life and how it is that I am the person I am today and why I live my life the way I do.

Walking on the sand at Witsand, I thought of an old school friend. We weren’t close mates and now see each other rarely. We barely spoke at our 25^th school reunion a few weeks ago. But I always think of him when I walk on a particular part of the Robberg beach. And of a history project I did in Standard 4 (now called Grade 6, of course) with someone who was his best friend. Why? I have no idea. But today I smiled as I thought of the memories we have, and make, daily. And the responsibility and joy of influencing the memories of others. A bit of advice – don’t take this responsibility lightly. And give yourself the best chance of happiness by not procrastinating – ever. Say what you want to, do what you want to – always with respect for yourself and others, and make memories which enable you to smile as you walk across a beach.

Me and Gabbi at Club Med Val Thorens Sensations resort

When I was a kid (which means really before cell phones for those of you who never knew a world like that … I was, after all, born two years before SA got TV!) I used to love reading Enid Blyton books. And the Famous Five. And Trompie. The former taught me English, the latter a love of Afrikaans folk music, folk stories and friendships. Watch Stand by Me based on a Stephen King short story, read a Trompie book, and I dare you not to call your best friend.

My favourite TV programmes included Meisie van Avignon, dubbed badly into Afrikaans from French (I think!), Knersus, Tony Hart’s art programme with Morph, Dallas and Vyfster. I watched Twin Peaks because Martin Franklin liked it and I knew he was clever. But I liked stuff that was more literal. I still do. My point? Nothing other than that it is vital to read, watch, explore, see and meet people, places and ideas that challenge that which we find comfortable. If we don’t, as a society, spend time doing this, we will have more Donald’s trumping us and being in striking distance of ending humanity. And I mean that, seriously.

Another little “lesson” occupying my mind is that of “common cause.” It seems to me that as a community (like St Stithians where I serve as chairman of the council) or as a country (let’s take SA simply because it is my favourite one) or as a family (let’s pick my own, for the sake of ease) or as a company (let’s pick CN&CO which I founded with like-minded legends, or Purple where I spend my time mainly) we often – despite the very best intentions and love for and appreciation of each other – defer to individual cause, rather than common cause. And yet, if we focused more on what is good for the whole, now and into the future, the individual will benefit – hugely. I don’t get this right, but I try consciously to drive the common cause – to identify it, to communicate it and to let it shine. Try it. Who knows, we may just make this world a superb places to live in. And one we are proud to leave behind for generations to come.

I scattered some of my mum’s ashes in Excelsior a while back. It was a moving, lovely experience. I did so in the cemetery where my grandmother is buried, among the cows. And the fancy new tombstones of the now mainly black inhabitants among the bones of my deeply conservative Afrikaner ancestors. And the remains of the first wife of a friend – she was murdered and he wrote about it, beautifully. He is now married to another friend, who is also a work colleague and superb human being. The point? Well, a few: life’s web is fascinating; open your eyes to it. We come from so much in our past and we can let it define us blindly, or we can consciously choose which parts of our history we absorb. I love being an Afrikaner. I am proud of what I can and do contribute. I am also deeply aware of the immense pain and trauma the Afrikaner caused my country. And so I also have a deep sense of responsibility for making right. I benefited from policies of oppression and discrimination, from being white and male and Afrikaans, and I use those privileges to benefit people who are mainly described as minorities. Perhaps if more of us focused on those who have less, we would all have more.

Finally, and totally unrelated (well, as I said above, everything is actually related, so perhaps just “unexpectedly”) I want to conclude my little blog with a bit about Eben Sadie.

I like the man despite only having met him once. I enjoy his wines. I love his philosophy about wine-making and business. I respect his words. I am inspired by what he is achieving. I like that he told my friend Derek Kilpin of Great Domaines (who knows everything about wine and has built a superb wine business) to not be a p&%s, but just to be lekker. That’s good advice for us all.

Wines and wine-making is close to my heart (and liver) as many of you know. I love wine. Sparkling wine, dry white and champagne, especially. I love the stories about wine. The history. And so when Eben talks about his Soldaat Grenache, his Pofadder Cinsaut or his Treinspoor produced from his wildest vineyard producing an extreme, paradoxical wine, I get excited.

Politics shape wine. As does geography. And family feuds. And weather. Eben knows this. So he finds old plots that have history, politics, terroir, love and dreams embedded. He makes apple sparkling wine from orchards people forgot about. His vines are 400km apart – some the size, only, of rugby fields. Eben knows that money is a weird thing, a thing to respect and to be aware of. He says, “Pasop!” He knows that chopping down trees to make barrels is stupid, offensive, short-sighted. He knows that wax from your own bees makes sense. As does taking the little things in life seriously. Noticing them. Taking the time to do so. Which takes me back to Witsand and my walk this morning. And the birds I saw and heard, the seals I smelt, the waves I heard, the sand I felt.

Ella Fitzgerald pours through the speakers as I call for my bill. And I smile at the many trips I have lined up next year. And for the journey of my life. I am doing it my way. With no regrets. Many mistakes yes. But all are part of my learning as I grow, happily.