I had a laugh yesterday, Jon and I were working in the garden when we heard the sound of a baby crying coming from one of our neighbour’s houses (which is of course not funny in itself obviously). We looked at each other and I commented on how it was definitely a baby this time and not a baby goat. Having just spent a week in Mbotyi in the Eastern Cape where there are kids (offspring of the goat kind) running amok constantly calling for an absent family member, we quickly grew accustomed to the sound coming from lost little goats and not from a baby, if you can forgive my sound comparison. When I travel I tend to associate sounds to places as a means to relive and invoke the memories made in that place, and the sound of goats calling is going to forever represent the amazing spot of Mbotyi for me now.
Anyone who knows me will agree to the sentiment that I am not a morning person, and if you should find me up before 8am on the weekend then there are generally only two viable reasons for this – either I am going hiking, or I am heading off to go travelling somewhere (or our cat Felix has been meowing from outside our bedroom door for the last hour so as to wake us up to give him attention). This morning it was the former and this saw Jon and I ‘up and at em’ just after 6am so that we could get ready and start our hike before the sun came up in order to catch the sunrise over Cape Town whilst walking.