South Africa went into lockdown on March 25, with one of the strictest lockdowns in the world. We weren’t even allowed to go for a walk with our dogs. Gradually, the rules have been relaxed, bit by bit, and a few weeks ago they relaxed the prohibition on inter-provincial travel. Finally. I booked a pet-friendly Air B&B, packed up enough stuff for a week and Jay and I headed down to the coast.
This part of South Africa is called the Dolphin Coast, and it’s definitely the right name; four times in the days I was there I watched in awe as a huge pod of dolphins jumped and played in the surf. I didn’t manage to get any photos, because I couldn’t do anything but stand there with a huge grin on my face. It is also whale migration season, so pretty much anytime you looked out after just a few minutes you’d see whales jumping, or rather, the splash they left behind.
Jay loved the beach, and it was almost completely empty. I was able to let him off the leash and he barked at the waves, rolled in dead fish, sniffed everything. He’s not much of a swimmer but he did splash around a little, especially in the rocky areas where there were tide pools and puddles.
There’s something magical about water; just looking at it brings a sense of calm over me. I say I can feel my blood pressure going down and the stresses of the week or month or year just melt away. I’ve lived on water my entire life; I grew up on Lake Superior and we spent our summers at a lake cabin in central Minnesota. After that, I lived in Seattle for almost a decade, where Puget Sound and Lake Washington and Lake Stevens and Lake Union were constantly waving to me through my car windows. Then I lived in Benin as a Peace Corps Volunteer, the only two years of my life I wasn’t within a few minutes of a large body of water. Then I lived in Freetown, Conakry, Pointe Noire, Toamasina, Cotonou, Boston, and Monrovia. What do all these cities have in common? The coast.
So living in Pretoria is certainly different; it’s high altitude and very dry, and quite a distance from any body of water. But, it’s a short flight to the coast, and not expensive, so I managed to get there often enough that I didn’t really miss it. Until lockdown. Suddenly, I am stuck in a tiny province known only for it’s metro areas, and I can’t leave. After a few months I was filled with the deep longing and no way to fulfil it.
So that’s why, as soon as it was allowed, I made plans to visit the sea. Jay did great, no car sickness at all during the seven-hour drive, and the only challenge we had was his poor little paws were rubbed raw by the sand as we walked on the first day. But he healed up quickly and his paws became used to it and we ran and we played and we loved the wind, the waves, the salty air and the sand in all it’s beauty and glory.
Never underestimate the power of a change of scenery. Before we left I was truly in the depths of despair; the winter had been long, the loneliness of lockdown was heaver than I realized. Work was feeling crazy and I found myself hating this dream job I love and knew something needed to change. By the time I drove back I was looking forward to coming home, the house that had felt like a jail was suddenly a place of comfort; having gotten on top of some outstanding work things made me feel better in control and able to handle whatever was thrown at me next. And I’ll head back to the beach in a few weeks’ time; something to look forward to is critical and such a relief, after so many months with nothing good on the horizon.
Let us begin 