Orlando towers

So Saturday had been planned for weeks once the height and water fearing Sharlz finally agreed to redeem her birthday present of climbing up one of the twin towers. We set off with our very own taxi driver trained driver... no seriously this doll drives like she got advanced driving from the head of the Alex taxi association himself. Taxi’s were hooting at us for cutting them off.

We found our way to the twin towers and with music blearing I couldn’t wait to enter. Can you imagine my excitement when the first sight to the left is a bar. We excitedly carbo loaded while we waited for our turn to climb the left twin. And by carbo loaded I’m not talking about the pap and vleis that smelled delicious. We nervously sipped out of green bottles as we watched a 9 year old girl clear the wall in seconds while the adults struggled to find their footing. My poor friend Sharlz was ordered to go first and I swear she looked like she was about to hurl.

Surprisingly all she needed was a little push towards the heavens for her to conquer her fear and do her frog-like dance all the way up without stopping for air. Well that didn’t put any unnecessary pressure on the rest of us! Soccer playing gym bunnies or not, fear knows no limit. I must say the activity, though almost outshone by the beer in the bar, was one of the best idea’s Alvira’s come up with.

We all bravely climbed right to the top of the designated 20 meters, some of us relieved not to be one of the bungee jumpers peeing in their pants as we watched them, not jumping, but getting pushed over the ledge. Seemingly they starved themselves so as to avoid throwing up on the way down cause they were somewhat still shakily scoffing down the cuisine at the restaurant afterwards. So if you just needed a reason then then the pap and vleis is you’re season. I recommend you take the plunge.

The charming restaurant served us pap and vleis near a bon fire as we danced to local beats feeling very cultural and proudly South African.

I advocate this outing to every doll or dude to grace our shores. The whole vibe was eclectic. For optimum enjoyment take a big group of Acrophobes.

And last but definately not least:   The million dollar money shot. I am all woman and proud!

Cindy Bonelle “likes” this.

XOXO Cins...

All Things Grey

On a Crisp cold Wednesday in July, my photog (Alvira Engelbrecht) and I set of to Lemon8 for the All things Grey launch. Not knowing what to expect we decided to cover the smart casual look. I wore smart and she went casual.  

A bit sceptical about venturing into the unknown....(Selby) again, we were quite pleasantly surprised at the venue. I’m talking, free Amstel, huge white leather automan couches, free Amstel, snack platters, Kenzero at the DJ box, interesting people... did I mention free Amstel? Yeah?  well they almost stole the show those free beers.

Really great to bump into fellow bloggers and photographers jotting down notes snapping away and doing our thang. As the evening wore on, the space became congested with the stylish, the beautiful, the famous and the wannabees... as well as one or two infamous brands walking the floor. Yes Hammer, I’m talking to you. Was star struck to bump into 5fm’s laid back news reader Poppy Ntshongwana and chatted to Tumisho Masha at the bar... got ahead of myself and thought we were buddies (since I’ve known him for 8 years) until he refused to take a pic with me! Treating me like shwashwi or a star struck stalker is not Cool, Tumisho!

5fm’s Bubbly Anele did the MCing honours for the evening.... no guessing which radio stations going to be blasting Kabomo’s beats.

HHP is always a treat to watch and the most charming of gentlemen he is, when you ask for a picture. Not even uttering a complaint when asked to take another one cause my double chin was evident in the first.

Took a while but the diminutive dimpled and captivating Kabomo finally joined his snazzy 11 piece band that they kept boasting about, and shocked me with the sweet reverberations that exuded from his lips. The vibe was sexy and jazzy emphasized by the strong presents of the sax and surprisingly a trumpet was in the mix.

The crowd swayed, mesmerized by Mr Vilakazi’s rendition of Stimella and squealed excitedly when he was joined by the hugely popular HHP.

All in all I must say I enjoyed the launch and only wish it had not been on a school night so I could have hung around like a stalker after the show to meet him personally before he blows up and refuses to take a pic with me.. you know how they roll these schlebs.

XOXO Cins...

Man Down

A husband and wife are shopping in their local Spar.
The husband picks up a 2L box wine and puts it in their trolley.  
'What do you think you're doing?'   asks the wife.  
'They're on sale, only R30 for the box"   he replies.
'Put it back, we can't afford it’    demands the wife,  and so they carry on shopping.

A few aisles further on along the woman picks up a R60 jar of face cream and puts it in the basket.
What do you think you're doing?' asks the husband.
'It’s my face cream. It makes me look beautiful,' replies the wife.
Her husband retorts:  'So does the 2L wine, and it's half the price.

So Dolls,

I know I’ve been scarce even though I’ve got a couple of exciting things to share with you. But My Photog is currently out of town and my words are boring and weak without her visual stimulation. I have also been tied up in the Lena shoots again but I will make time for you very soon.

XOXO Cins...

When he brings you to your knees...

If it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, then why is the broken hearts club so huge? Bigger still is the community of steadfast lesbians and frustrated, moody chaste women who refuse to shave their legs. A life lived in fear is a life half lived yet if you throw caution to the wind and carpediem then you end up jumping into the fire for leaping without looking. A union between a man and a woman is supposed to be the most natural yet the only one in my experience that leaves you with such unnatural pain. If it’s better to have loved and lost and loved fiercely I have, then why does each love come with months of brokenness and years of loneliness for a yearlong love affair? It’s always puzzled me how cupid never seems to synchronise his shots and does not hit two people with their opposing poison. You always love the one person that brings you to your knees because though they are there for a short time they never really stay. They always venture out to find their kryptonite. There is always that one person that brings you to your knees and discards years of experience wisdom and strength. Yes it’s that person that can make a doctor sniff that deadly white powder to connect on a “higher” level with his mismatched queen. Or that one person that will allow a women’s rights activist to get bruised and abused by her lover. Why is it that the one person who brings you to your knees with every cut, break or bruise he inflicts upon your willing soul, that same person whom you cannot muster any strength to break away from. After each lash of pain, you get angry as you swear you will never go back to him yet days later like a druggy going cold turkey it’s you who goes knocking at his door begging him for one more chance, one more hit, he swears things will be different this time not like the other million times yet your craving for this dangerous love forces you into this black hole. How does a grown woman behave like a hormonal adolescent drowning in puppy love for the first time? The concept of understanding What Joshua Kaddison told us all those years ago, that when “Jesse paints her picture about how it’s gonna be, by now you should know better, those dreams are never free”. I always wondered how people can’t spot the difference between a dreamer and a manipulator, and worse yet how the manipulatee falls into the rut of being manipulated time and time again. And this person that will bring you to your knees does not go by a certain appearance or frequent particular mannerisms. It’s your own demons that you battle with and for many of us, we are still on our knees begging and pleading with our demons to set us free.  With bruised and bleeding knees, that drug, that man, that woman, that behaviour and that vice holds us by merely a thread of our hair yet we cannot and will not rise. Once we do though some of us realise how weak the grasp was all along but it was merely our own fear that convinced us it was shackles. And for many of us we manage to get up for a while... sometimes a long while but the realisation of the weak hold our demons have, is what drives us to go back. Like the smoker that is convinced he is not addicted because he can quit at anytime. After all he did quit 5 times in 10 years..... Right?

By Cindy Bonelle

Emoyeni Buddhist Working Retreat

Friday 22^nd of July could not come fast enough for me. Sure i was aware of all the manual labour under the hot African sun with nothing but organic fruit and veg to nourish my polluted body.

Excitement mounting along with Alvira’s superwoman syndrome insisting on driving into the unknown after dark. Me with stiff muscles from a double soccer game the day before and Sha heavily loaded with her erb of choice. Assuming I would dry up on the long drive there, I imbibed in my usual Friday work Savannas’ with extra gusto.

We hit the road, over excited and over intoxicated on our various poison’s of choice. Things can never be boring with this particular cocktail of friends,  making the drive there seem rather short.... or was it the endless supply of “liquid beverage” that kept appearing. Alas it was inevitable that we would get lost.... inevitable also  was that we would find ourselves on the inside of a bar on a Friday night....

This time our main objective was pretending to ask for directions. So fully loaded with the same directions printed from the internet, now translated to broken English by the Afrikaans accent behind the bar, we set of for the last leg of what should have been a 2 hour journey.

The actual weekend was beautiful fun, restful and loaded with healthy laughs on the mountain where one always feels closer to God.

My initial state of panic at realizing my best friend and confident during moments of loneliness had no reception. So through the 14 hours of silence a night would have to be totally non communicative. I could do this. Well alone I could but they made the mistake of bunking us together. So as we drunkenly giggled and fought for bed space we were harshly reprimanded within the first 2 hours of being there. This highlighted how far from goodness and purity we were.

Day one began to a silent breakfast under the trees and we set off to work almost immediately.

Before I go on let me try to briefly explain this bazaar act of uprooting trees in the mountain. I mean, aren’t mountains supposed to have trees?

Lantana was the name of the enemy invader, these alien parasites spread like wild fire killing off our indigenous plantation in its path sucking up our resources and cause a thorny tangled web around the mountain. These hood rats must go!

After hours of manual labour we were fed with the most heavenly biscuits, lemongrass and mint tea and freshly squeezed lemonade. Then we were released to read in the sun, take mountain strolls or sleep. Lunch was served and who knew vegetables could clean up so well. I’d almost forgotten that I was not eating flesh for 3 days.

Meditation a challenge for self confessed ADD sufferers such as myself, so what should be a calming soothing experience is actually a mental argument with my brain to shut down.

Well after being lured to meditation under the pretence of having a reading session, I found it surprisingly easy to slip into... once I had gotten over the initial feeling of being scammed.

I am even left with the confidence of attempting this spiritual exercise on my own.

Sunday Morning the terrible trio (that’s us) set off before day break to get me to the 15k Walk the talk.... The clean mountain air had prepared my lungs for this task.

Thank you Emoyeni for the experience and Enviroserve for the wonderful experience www.envirosolutionscentre.com

XOXO Cins...