Sylvia's Journal

I slept terribly last night, from hour to hour, an interminable night. I gave up at 5 AM and watched the sun come up over the valley. The day was full of promises.

I worked for a while on my next assignment and then joined the well-heeled folks of Waterkloof Heights/Ridge for a latte at the little shopping center down the street. It was the perfect spot, in the warm fall sun, to review resumes for my co-facilitator in Bangladesh and meeting up for a final debrief with the project director. We talked about the project and when I would come back. I indicated that the project is first in line after the grandbaby is born and my grand-maternity leave has expired.

The afternoon was dedicated to a final soak and massage at the spa. It was twofer day and Katie and I got the ‘flotation therapy’ for free – a half hour in a kind of Dead Sea bath – a weightless float in a dark room – it was delicious and would have been totally relaxing if I hadn’t had to watch out for floating into Katie – suspended at the other side of the small round and shallow pool. I was thinking a lot about the grand-baby, being similarly suspended, in a much smaller space, making summersaults – I had an urge to do the same, feeling what that would be like.

We followed the flotation treatment with a Swedish massage which was followed by a sushi feast. It was good that Katie drove us back as my massage brain was hardly dependable, what with traffic going in the wrong direction

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I drove to the last day of my last assignment trying out a different route. I am getting quite comfortable driving with a stick shift on the wrong side of the road. I do still occasionally activate the windshield wipers when I want to indicate that I am turning left or right but I am mostly getting it right. Except for my backing out of the apartment’s parking lot – Jabu, who looks after the place was gesticulating frantically but the scrape with a brick wall had already left its mark on the red lacquer of my rental. It is one of the few ugly marks on an otherwise unblemished 6 weeks in Southern Africa.

And so I am basking in that feeling of having completed all assignments to the client’s satisfaction. The (re)treat is over – two intense days of learning and talking about things that are important for a team. In a way there was too much to absorb – the awareness of styles and how we would like to be approached when we get irritated about people not acting we would like them to act. It was a lot to absorb and will need a lot of reminding, supporting, and some gentle confronting.

The team made a commitment that it is up to the task and headed out into the weekend. But not before a bottle of champagne was popped open and there was much thanking and toasting and clinking of filled champagne glasses. At every twist and turn one is reminded of being in a wine-producing country.

I returned home exhausted, unpacked my facilitator bags and collapsed in front of the TV watching a famous South African soap opera, an episode with much sadness. From the previews I could tell that the next episode will star another emotion, anger.

I went out for dinner with two colleagues who had been in the (re)treat. We agreed we would not talk about the retreat, let is simmer for a bit.  We talked about the joy of flying in small planes, a hobby we shared, and that is popular in South Africa. I realized I haven’t flown since last November when Bill’s plane went into the shop for a makeover.

Today’s program consists of a talk with the chief about future work here, a half hour of ‘flotation therapy’ at the Soulstice Spa, followed by an hour massage, and finished off with a shushi dinner with friends.  Life’s good.