Goodbye, South Africa

After breakfast (which was kindly hosted by the family of a friend who is currently staying over in the UK), we decided to make Rosebank our final place to hang out in. This allowed us to browse the Sunday-only flea market (in which I managed to fulfil my whole quota of holiday gift shopping) as well as grab some food before heading off to the airport. But most importantly it allowed us to meet anyone who wanted to take the time out to say goodbye to us.

Once again I was quite taken back by how we were treated. People came and hung out, some for the whole time we were there. Many gave leaving gifts, something which I still don't quite get, coming from a town where token gestures like these are generally received with suspicion and cynicism. Quite fittingly our final meal was held in Spur, although in retrospect I should have taken more advantage of my final chance to sample South African meat.

Even the journey to the airport was full of poignancy as some friends took the time to personally drop us off. Quite amusingly we met some more people at the airport over coffee, at the same Mugg and Bean where I had originally met them over what seemed like a lifetime ago. Had we really only been here two weeks ago?

The final joke? Well in what was classic South African style we arrived late at the gate and were final called before even seeing our plane. I guess we just didn't want to leave. I was actually hoping for the same ash which delayed our flight to return, but my prayers went unanswered. As I sat down on the top deck of the A380 to Paris I finally came to terms with the fact that our time in South Africa was well and truly up and we were finally going home; the memories of our time here keeping us flying higher than the plane we were sitting in ever would.