Oppikoppi – A brief summary cause no one cares anymore

There was dust, a lot of it. And there was drinking, a lot of that too. But most importantly, there was Brand New – more on that later.

Koppi o'clock

It's almost Oppi time! If you're partially retarded and don't know to take Rehidrat, and bring your own goddamn camping chair to a festival then please refer to our previous advice on Survival.

For the rest of you hardened festive folk, let's talk about bands. Here are a few we've circled in permanent marker on our printed line up. 

(Caveat: Don't be a slave your line up plan either, chilling at the top bar checking out somebody you've never heard of can be equally rewarded)

Surviving Winter like a boss (or not)

What’s been going on, I hear you ask? Very little, actually. Other than surviving winter that is. And I know you’re going to rehash that old, ‘this winter has been so mild’ brouhaha, but try telling it to those of us in the trenches.

Comrades for Cunts: A dummies guide to watching this thing.

I’m not sure you realise it, but it’s the other cunt that’s the real loon in this blogger duo. She’s the one that’s going to spend this weekend running the ‘World’s Greatest Ultra Marathon’. Step after step for like 90-bloody-kilometres as testament to the glory and triumph of the human spirit. That’s almost a full 12 hours of triumph and glory, quite possibly covered in tears and some snot. I, on the other hand, will be drinking wine and eating oysters with my old pal, Chris. Now you tell me which of us is a bit mental?

Image found here

The horrors of packing

Any seasoned traveller will know the pain of deciding what to pack for their holiday. Despite all the adventures this cunt has had, that night before spent stuffing things into bags is a damned horror-fest of discarded shirts and undecided third, fourth and even fifth cozzies because… well, just in case. Then you have to fit those four sombreros into the car or jam your handluggage (read all your shoes) into the overhead locker when you squeeze onto the plane with all those other overweight (bags not bulge) travellers. And while we all like to think that we’re free-spirited beasties, even the freest spirit needs a clean pair of knicks to grace the under-carriage every day so don’t give me this ‘do South America in three months with nothing but a fannypack and some cargo shorts’ bullshit.

Die Weskus is die Beskus

Not to sound like a jealous ugly step-sister or anything, but the Western Cape really did get the lion's share when it comes to scenery and shit. You can barely get through a day without your eyes being assaulted by an above average sunset or some attractive body of water.

Our camera cunt visited Langebaan for the weekend and reports back that the situation there is even worse than we realised.

Seeberg viewpoint - West Coast National Park

Langebaan is pretty close to Cape Town down the west coast highway. It should take about an hour and a half, unless you get distracted by gossiping and only realise you've gone too far when the signs for Namibia start. The town itself is small, and seems to exist almost entirely on business from water sports. 

The West Coast National Park is close to town and offers a fuck-ton of scenic views and some lovely bird hides for those that way inclined. We only spent half a day in the park, but left plotting to return in the flower season (August - September) to do one of their 2 day trails.

Flamingos!!

Abrahamskraal cottage 

We ate at Die Strandloper which is a fantastic way to while away the afternoon. You can take your own cooler box of bevvies to enjoy whilst they attempt to burst you with pretty much ALL the seafood and the best goddamn bread I've ever tasted (Tim Noakes can lick my arsehole). Top tip: Take stretchy pants.

Strandloper - Not for those allergic to seafood.

Taking a break to digest.

Flamingos is the sickest jol in town, bru. And for just R40 entrance you can marvel at why there is a bus inside and have your fill of bass, beerpong and plastic chairs. Don't fight it...

Top tip: Bring your own sokkie partner.

The weekend retreat (or regroup)

Sometimes life kicks you right in your stupid face. Everything’s going just swimmingly (or so you think) and you’re backstroking your way to the edge of the pool, when bam! there it is; the kick that sends you sinking ‘til your battered body rests right on the very bottom. Does that mean you’re going to limit yourself to the shallow end of life? Fuck no! You paddle to the steps, take a sip of your gin and tonic, and regroup. We don’t retreat, we regroup and restrategise, and kick life back in its g.d face.