Giant Python On The Path

Everything moves in time. My mind overflows with thoughts. The best way to sift through them...feet hitting the ground, shades on, ear buds in and Boy & Bear streaming. While some people have epiphany's in the shower, others on the throne, I have my best ideas while wandering the streets of my neighbourhood. Yes, I am one of "those" people who block out the world around them and walk with determination. There is nothing quite like a brisk two hour walk to pump the blood and feed the brain. Although, generally a social person, I can be introspective at times and will admit to getting lost in my own thoughts. You may even catch me having a one way conversation. 

I have wandering feet or itchy feet as my parents call them. They take me places I would have never dared venture. My feet are monsters, they literally have a mind of their own. When everything in my being screams NO, they say GO. Skimming through some of my past posts, you would hardly believe I was a big "scaredy cat". True story. Case in point, Crescent Island, home to giant pythons. Who in their right mind, would A) visit such an island?  let alone B) explore it on foot?  If all hands are pointing to me, you are correct my friends. 

Crescent island, a choice shooting location for such films as Tomb Raider and Out of Africa, was my pick of the trip. I credit this to my feet treading where no sane mind would. So engrossed was I by my surroundings; dung beetle rolling their treasures across the path, ants scurrying away in orderly fashion, giraffe galloping within a few meters, fish eagles calling overhead, it was no wonder my guide had to pull back on my backpack to break me out of my reverie. Perturbed that he had stopped me so, I began to scan my surroundings. Gazing at the log that crossed my path, my eyes began to refocus. Was that a tongue I just saw flicker?  My eyes were surely playing tricks on me. The log was breathing. Was it a log? Of course it wasn't a log! In fact, it was a 4 meter python. This giant python was both beautiful and intimidating. To be so perfectly camouflaged and lay motionless while being gawked at by several pairs of eyes, I tip my hat to the snake. Naturally, the story doesn't end here and for those of you who know me all too well, you can guess what I did next. I touched it. To clarify, I wouldn't have done this without my guide's say so. I may be adventurous but I am not stupid, although I do like touching everything around me. What can I say? I am a very tactile person. The heat radiating from the giant python quickly spread from my fingers to my palms. Although the moment seemed to last forever, within a few seconds of my touching it, this giant python began its retreat into the tall grass. They say pythons are not very quick snakes, in fact, at top speed, they can move 1.6km/hr on open ground but I beg to differ. For its size and girth, this giant python, had both stealth and speed. Thereafter, grinning from ear to ear, my guide and I finished our walk without much fanfare. 

Although back in the land of grizzly bears and cougars, I allow my mind to return to thoughts of Africa. My feet continue to move me forward at a ridiculous pace when I'm in a contemplative mood but one thing is for sure, no matter where I am in the world, even when I am lost in my own thoughts, I give logs on my path the respect they deserve. After all, I once almost stepped over a giant python. 

A Blog About Me: What's In A Name?

Remember the days of collecting rocks, coins, stamps and seashells? If you said yes, I'll let you in on a little secret: by the age of 13, I had amassed 200+ coins from around the world coupled with a respectable antique bottle collection. I know, closet nerd and proud of it. The good news...my days of accumulating dust collectors have gone the way of the do-do. Rather, to my astonishment, I seem to be acquiring a sizeable collection of monikers in a day and age when people are either collecting iTunes playlists or Facebook friends, all of which take little space (physically speaking). 

Nicknames come and go, but some seem to stick around like the lingering smell of a bad fart. Someone throws a few words together and voilà, an instant reflection of my character. I suppose my biased notion of my "star" qualities are not necessarily the views of those closest to me. So how do my friends & family see me? As I am no mind reader and am prone to exaggeration, I will list a few of my various nicknames and let you be the judge of me.

• Sweet-pickle: I can go from being sweet to sour just about as fast as a cheetah can go from 0 to 100km/h in 3 seconds.
• Anal Angel: although sounding like a porn star, it goes with my need to have ALL my "ducks in a row".
• Naserian: my Maasai name given to me in Kenya, by Maasai elders meaning "Peaceful One"
• Newbie: my Canadian friends living in Kenya bestowed me this title. A seasoned traveller to Kenya, I can still manage a few faux-pas or a.k.a. blonde moments.
• Growly Bear: I can be a little over protective with my peeps to the point of being bossy.
• Rose: not a flattering moniker but one my parents gave me a long time ago when in moments of absent-mindedness, I reminded them of a character on their favourite sitcom "The Golden Girls".
• Tuff N' Tiny: the name of my USB flash drive which eventually transferred over to me. What can I say? I'm petite and like to be thought of as tough. If the shoe fits..........
• Malaika: Kenyan Angel - yes, at times, I can be angelic
• Ducky: generally, everything is "ducky" with this Ducky (except around duck season)
• bB (baby Barracuda): generally solitary, a barracuda is a voracious predator relying on stealth and short bursts of speed to overtake its prey. I'm really not that evil but I do have a mischievous streak and fierce determination. Watch out for my sneaky side!!!

There you have it, your African Snow Angel revealed. Professional Photographer, part-time student, current Lead Gardener & Crew Leader, Africa addict, future Field Guide and all of the above. If by chance, and there is that possibility, you should ever run into this Canadian short stop (made famous by Disney's "It's A Small World After All"), ask me about my rock collection. I think geology may be easier to explain and let's face it, it's much more fascinating than what's in a name. Now to fill in box two of my student Visa application - FIRST NAME(s). hmm?!!! 

Do-Overs

The truth is, that throughout our lives, we will experience many things that may cause us to stumble but in the end, it is our choice to learn and grow from these. God never gives us more than we can handle. Of course, you only realize this after the fact. Trust me, I know all too well and can honestly say I wouldn't be where I am now if it wasn't for my stumbles. I will not apologize for bringing God into my blog as that is a big part of who I am. 

Contemplating life in a remote corner of my parents farm.

I am forever trying to push myself which at times can back fire. For the longest time, I had wanted to become a helicopter pilot. As a photographer and frequent traveller to Africa, I envisioned flying to remote destinations to capture THE perfect National Geographic moment. Perhaps I set the bar too high or had the wrong motives or just needed to prove something, either way, leaving flight school was the turning of the tides for my decision to move to Africa. By the end of February, I had no career, no home of my own and felt utterly and totally alone. To say that my emotional, spiritual and physical being were teetering on a knife's edge is an understatement. If you have ever hit rock bottom, then you will understand what it feels like to have to pick yourself up, dust yourself off and start all over again at square one. The difficulty in this, is that it's up to you to decide when to carry on. 

Staying young means being silly. Dish ninja in action!

My love for Africa has been on going for as long as I can remember. So many friends & family assumed I would be cured once this craving was satisfied, however, my setting foot on the continent only intensified my desire to live there. Since 2008, I have travelled four times to Kenya, twice to South Africa and once to Tanzania. My name is Angele Rouillard and I am addicted to Africa. All this to say, the more times I travel there, the longer I stay and so, it only makes sense that my end goal would be to live and work there for as long as I can; forever would be good too. With that said, in March 2013, I officially enrolled into the FGASA level 1 program in Makalali Private Nature Reserve, South Africa, beginning January 7, 2014. 

With 189 days until I return to Africa and  210 days for my course start, you can imagine my excitement. It will not be quelled. Africa is my happy place. Yes, I endured a "do-over" but I am a much stronger woman for it. If Africa has taught me anything, it is to enjoy the journey rather than the destination. Happy dreaming or as Peter Pan would say "I can fly, I can fly, I can fly!"

Falling Out of A Plane

I have a bucket list. To my credit, I had it before the movie of same name popularized it. The only difference is mine will never have an end. I am not a negative person by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, I have what you would call "a zest for life", a contagious "joie de vivre".  The reason I will never complete my bucket list is because the more I explore and experience our world, the more I want to see and do. For every item I cross off, another two or three "to-dos" are added. I also realize that certain things on my list may be out of my reach such as experiencing weightlessness as I don't ever plan on being part of the space program but that's not to say I can't write it down for kicks. This leads me to why most of us write a list in the first place, fear. We all have fears. Truth be told, I am afraid of taking risks, I am afraid of failure, I have a natural fear of sharks and open water, and lastly, I am afraid of heights, or falling from there, actually, am not sure which is worst. 

Skydiving has been on the top of my "experiences" list (yes, before you ask, my bucket list is organized from experiences to natural wonders to UNESCO heritage sites, etc.) for a very long time, right next to learning to fly a helicopter.  All I can write about the latter is that I flew for 20 seconds and that jumping out of a perfectly good plane, was much easier. That is to say, I could at least control my "falling with style" better than I could a tin flying contraption. 

The notion of jumping into thin air, literally, the air is thinner at 10,000 feet, seemed beyond comprehension. I simply woke-up one morning and decided this would be the perfect month to jump. I tend to work myself up to the point of feeling nauseated, anxious, with a veritable butterfly breeding ground in my stomach but on the chosen day, I was calm. The sunshine was brilliant, the ceiling unlimited and my excitement boundless. As I said my final goodbyes to friends and family and acknowledged any last acquisition requests on their part, I couldn't help but beam at my courage. Me, the once shy girl from the farm, was, to the shock of everyone who knows me, about to skydive. The plane ride was uneventful. We climbed, and climbed, and soared high above the island. The view was fantastic! Once at elevation, I received the tap on my shoulder, the signal that we were to prepare to exit the plane. The excitement masked any apprehension I may have had at this point. I leaned back on my instructor as taught, and then, it happened. You think you are ready for anything but the moment you're thrust into mid-air with nothing to grasp, the earth coming up at you faster than you can anticipate, the expected "roller coaster" feeling non-existent but rather a sudden will to survive, followed by my piercing SCREAM, it was a rush of adrenaline beyond words. I can still replay it over and over in my mind and experience that same exhilarating rush.

The moment the parachute is deployed is comparable to someone hitting the brakes. 30 sec of free falling followed by a sudden stop and then a leisurely descent (until your instructor decides to spiral). I always assumed a certain level of noise up there, you know, wind rushing through your ears and such but in fact, it was quite the opposite. The silence coming down was deafening and pure bliss. The view, incredible. I gazed at my feet dangling so high above the earth. I was mesmerized by this concept and understood the Wright brothers fascination with flight. Who wouldn't want to soar with the eagles?!

So there you have it. I did it. I jumped out of an airplane and lived to tell about it. It is now crossed off the bucket list but that isn't to say, I won't do it again. I'm not sure I conquered my fear of heights but I took the risk and did not fail, two things I'm proud to say. Next on the list...........shark cage diving.....maybe.