San Francisco is home to a little bit of everything. Whether you’re a first time visitor or a long-time local, San Francisco’s Golden Gates welcome us all. This time I didn’t spend much time there because my layover was actually in Oakland. So the cable car was the perfect idea for us to have a beautiful glimpse of the city. At Powell and Market streets, there is a cable car turntable which serves as the beginning stop for two lines, the Powell-Mason and Powell-Hyde lines. The first line I mentioned was the one I picked on the 3rd of February. It begins there at turntable and then the line runs from there up and over Nob Hill and down to Bay Street at Fisherman’s Wharf. When you hop aboard these rolling landmarks you’re climbing hills the same way San Franciscans did in the 1870s. Isn’t that wonderful? I also love to travel in time.
Some have asked me to post a video about my routine as a flight attendant. If we can call it a routine. Sometimes I have layovers really long in which I spend 3 or 4 nights outside my base (London), but we also have short duties, like a 24 hours layover in Tampa, or New York, or Orlando, or Barbados, and so on.
But 24 hours is enough if we are eager to visit and run all the streets of the city. And if we sleep a lot less than necessary. So, I have decided to show you what happens in 24 hours of my life at my airline job. In the morning I’m in London, in the evening I’ll have dinner in New York, the next day I’ll be walking around the big Apple and in that same evening I’m serving tea and coffee and making sure you fly safe from A to B. And back to London here I am again.
1. One of the New 7 Wonders is the World, at over 260 million years old, Table Mountain is older than the Andes, the Alps, the Rocky Mountains and the Himalayas. The Alps are a relatively youthful 40-million years old.
2. Its highest point is Maclear’s Beacon, which is 1085 meters above sea level. That being said, much like some of your ex-partners ego, Table Mountain is still growing. The mountain is often covered in cloud which is known as the ‘Table Cloth’ – the cloud formation that develops over the top of the table mountain because of the forced lifting of air by the earth’s topography.
3. In 1998, former president Nelson Mandela said that Table Mountain was a gift from the Earth. Pretty much what my mom said about me when I was born.
4. A total of 4.2 million people visit it each year, and at least two people get married on Table Mountain every month. It is one of the most photographed places in the world.
5. World famous figures such as Oprah Winfrey, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Margaret Thatcher, Michael Schumacher, Tina Turner, and Sofia Vila Nova have all visited the iconic mark. You still don’t know who this last one is? Follow her on Instagram: @Anasufiavn.
6. For the fit and crazy, there are more than 350 hiking trails or routes available which take between one to three hours to reach the top. The Table Mountain National Park contains also approximately 160km of cycling track. Access is gained via day permits or annual activity permits. But you need to double check this, because I took the cable car. It carries around 65 people at one time now; in 1929 could only allocate 25. It is a scenic view!
7. The Cape of Good Hope section of the Table Mountain National Park is a haven for outdoor enthusiasts and offers besides the hiking and cycling already mentioned, also surfing, angling, picnicking, and beaching opportunities against the breathtaking backdrop of the mountains and coastline of the Cape Peninsula.
8. Animals to be found on the mountain include a Dassie. People say it looks like a guinea pig however to me it really looks just like a big rat. I have seen it with my own two eyes that this Earth will devour (a weird Portuguese idiomatic expression, sorry!)
9. Hoerikwaggo (Mountain in the Sea) is the original name given to the mountain chain by the indigenous Khoisan people of the Cape.
10. There is a lake in the Cape of Good Hope that has no rivers that lead into it: It is kept full only by underground water.
Sorry, but what are you still doing reading this post? Go book your flight, right now. And happy travels.
Tenho 33 anos e ainda não casei. Não sei se a razão pela qual ninguém me leva ao altar é o facto da minha avó ter-me varrido várias vezes os pés durante a infância. Ou se tal desgraça tem origem nas milhares de vezes em que brindei com água. Ou se é por ter trazido para casa um gatinho preto que estava praticamente a morrer desidratado debaixo daquele carro, e de me ter obviamente cruzado então com ele outras milhares de vezes dentro de minha casa. Não sei se não caso porque as poucas vezes em que peguei numa vassoura foi para varrer o pó preguiçosamente para fora de casa, e o povo diz que quem faz tal asneira está a varrer a sorte para longe. A verdade é que a minha avó parecia estar ciente do que fazia as vezes sem conta em que me varreu os pés; terminava sempre por se rir e dizer: Olha, parece que já ninguém vai casar contigo, meu amor. Dizia-me que eu não perdia nada em não casar, pois dos homens nem bons ventos nem bons casamentos. Acho que a expressão é relativa a Espanha, e talvez, só muito talvez aos Espanhóis, mas a minha avó sempre gostou de generalizar. “Os homens não prestam”, ainda hoje me diz. Mas a grande culpa no cartório, o único que devo pisar nesta vida, é minha. Acho que o nunca ter sido supersticiosa me tem dado azar. A quantidade de vezes em que abri guarda-chuvas dentro de casas só para ver a cara de horror dos que acreditam nestas crendices! Há uns anos quebrei um espelho, e tudo o que fiz foi limpar os cacos de vidro. Nem me passou pelo pensamento que poderia ter 7 anos de azar. Se calhar fazia melhor se parasse de escrever agora mesmo e fosse ali fora procurar no mato um trevo de quatro folhas, para tentar chamar os bons ventos, ou se fosse até ao mercado comprar uma pata de coelho: dizem que dá sorte; menos para o coitado do coelho que ficou sem a pata. Não sei, mas parece que tudo o que tenho feito na vida tem sido atrair o azar. Chegava da rua e o que é que fazia ao meu chapéu? Atirava-o para cima da cama. E a mala? Deixava-a cair no chão. Se alguém tem de se sentar a uma quina de uma mesa por haver muitas pessoas e pouco espaço, adivinhe quem se oferece? Eu; a estúpida de mim. Parece que existe uma lista infindável de coisas que não devo fazer para não atrair o azar, e parece que fui programada ao nascer para querer fazer tudo isso. Ao mesmo tempo, estas crendices parecem-me não ter pés nem cabeça. Mas a superstição é mesmo isso: é a crença em situações com relações de causa e efeito que não se podem mostrar de forma racional ou empírica. São coisas irracionais. Não fundamentadas. Algumas são tradições populares, outras relacionadas com religião ou mágica. Como é que eu posso aceitar que conjuros, feitiços, maldições, rezas, curas e outros rituais possam influenciar de maneira transcendental a minha vida? Se eu for acreditar – e permita-me fazer o erro de colocar tudo no mesmo saco – na cartomancia, na quiromancia, na homeopatia, no tarot, e em Feng Shui, não faço mais nada na vida e até simples coisas como decorar a casa se tornam difíceis. Lá porque os orientais usam símbolos para figurar bons presságios capazes de atrair sorte ou azar, e isso funciona para eles, tenho eu também de passar uma semana ao computador a fazer um Google de Feng Shui antes de poder decidir ou saber onde devo colocar o novo móvel na sala? Ou quando voltei da Índia, devia ter-me certificado que os elefantes de marfim que trouxe de Goa e que gostava de ter expostos na sala, deveriam antes ter sido colocados no corredor da entrada com o rabo virado para a porta de entrada? Aliás, para ser exata, em vez de 2 elefantes devia ter trazido 3. O primeiro tem de ter a tromba virada para a entrada da porta principal, o segundo elefante o rabo virado, e o terceiro deveria ser colocado num sitio onde nós não o possamos ver nem quando andamos a limpar o pó. Como já disse, não sou supersticiosa e recuso-me a acreditar que coisas fora de mim exercem este impacto na minha vida. Para mim um gato preto é um gato preto. Na América do Sul, acredita-se que é um espírito malévolo capaz de causar mal estar e até mesmo a morte, contudo, se ferverem a carne do tal gato poderiam estar a curar a tuberculose pulmonar; já na Europa e nos Estados Unidos da América, o pobre do gato preto simboliza o demónio e as suas obras diabólicas. Eu nunca fui e nunca serei supersticiosa: para mim, um gato preto é um gato dessa cor. E mais nada. É verdade que tenho já 33 anos e ainda não casei, nem sequer consigo ter um namorado, estou a dormir no sofá de uma amiga porque chovia mais dentro de minha casa do que na rua, o meu carro está parado na oficina há coisa de duas semanas com problemas no motor, antes de deixar o carro no mecânico, atropelei o meu gato que acabou por morrer, as plantas da sala também estão mais para lá do que para cá, perdi a hoje a minha mala com a carteira e os meus dois telemóveis lá dentro, e como dizem que um azar nunca vem só e chega em séries de 7, só me falta agora ser despedida e perder o emprego. Não sou supersticiosa, mas pelo sim, pelo não, deixe-me cá bater 3 vezes na madeira. “E que o diabo seja cego, surdo e mudo.”
What is the best relationship match for a woman: a man or a shoe? It doesn’t seem to me a close-fitting competition. A survey finds women really don’t rate men as much use at all. And we all know the love and obsession of women towards shoes, right? Some of my bittersweet girlfriends say that men really are good for nothing. Okay, we are all in our 30s and that might include lots of bitter end symphonies in our lives. But fear not, I believe they are wrong: we still need men to get rid of spiders. According to an untrusted, in my opinion, survey of 1 thousand adults, where my girlfriends did not clearly fit in, 60 per cent of women said men were good at getting rid of spiders. Since there are eleven orders of arachnids, and these include the scorpions, mites and ticks, harvestmen, pseudo scorpions, whip scorpions, solpugids, and finally spiders; the fact that men are useful to kill spiders is not a big deal, is it? And we can do it as well ourselves, with the right shoe. So far, and regarding spiders, we have a tie: shoes 1-1 men. Also, 50 per cent in this useless, in my opinion, survey rated men’s barbecue skills, they are talking gas and charcoal, and 70 per cent said men are super useful when it comes to changing a tyre. I totally get this, I mean; if someone knows how to grill is a man; a shoe alone, or even a pair of shoes, cannot grill my meat medium rare or fix a computer or hang straight that heavy painting on the wall or go as far as changing the tyre of a car. Women can do it all by themselves wearing shoes, but shoes can’t do it for them. Men visibly win here. Assembling furniture is a pain too but someone has got to do it. And that someone is the man, not the shoe. Regarding alcohol, over half of the women rated men’s ability to drink. In my opinion we are better served here with a shoe, that doesn’t eat either but most importantly doesn’t drink. That is exactly what I am saying: A shoe can’t get drunk nor put the blame on the extra drinks for that occasional affair with that pair-of-boobs-girl which name he can’t even remember now because it was not meaningful for him. We never saw a drunken shoe. They put up with drunken people, yes, but they don’t get drunk. And this is a huge advantage for the relationship to work. On the other side, there is very little space for romance between a woman and her shoe. A woman can kiss the shoe but the shoe can’t kiss back. This is a big contra. The good thing is that a shoe also doesn’t have its mouth dirty. Actually, it doesn’t have a mouth at all. Of course not, it is a shoe; are you silly? Well, this to say that shoes are way classier creatures than men will ever be. Maybe this is a bad example, but Joe Pesci’s character in one of the Lethal Weapon’s movies, goes on an f-word fueled outburst about mobile phones for the first minute. That is definitely not classy. You would never see a shoe ranting like this. Consider then the common finding that women are more emotionally expressive than men. For an intimate relationship, good communication is helpful, right? Sometimes talking to a man can be as frustrating as talking to a pair of shoes. I bet men say the same comparing us to dumb doors, but looking at the bright side of life, a shoe will never call a woman names or answer her back in a bad tone. And it will always support her no matter what. A shoe is the new gentleman. It walks for me on the dirt and on puddles, and protects me from getting hurt or cold; and when it is needed the shoes will keep my feet warm. It is true that only a man can take off his coat and throw it gently over a puddle for a lady to step on, but have you ever seen something like that happening nowadays? Well, I know it is a bit stupid anyhow and imagine the cost of laundry detergent every winter? The lazy lady and the silly guy could just easily together avoid the puddle. Anyways, far safer and smarter is to have the right shoes on, and not to depend on any man. And let’s bear in mind that some men like to push women to the mud puddle, in other words: really down. If she gets smaller, they come across taller. Of course, men are not all like that, but the shoe doesn’t ever do that, right? On the opposite, the shoe makes the woman taller. Even if it is flat shoe, it will still make her taller than if she would be barefoot. Also when it comes to a possible domestic violence scene a woman is always better off if she is in a relationship with a shoe. A shoe will never grab her and throw her against the wall. And she can always throw the shoe against the wall. But why would you throw a shoe against a wall? It is true that the shoe will not assist us women in some things that men could, like reading well maps and with mathematics, for example, but you don’t need to be violent. It is just a shoe, are you silly? Okay, the shoe will not be helping the woman with that, I know, in fact, the shoe will get lost over and over again along with the woman, since her disorientated brain controls her feet. A man can easily add and subtract, divide and multiply; and a shoe cannot. Summing everything, it is a pretty close race, I know. I just hope my thoughtless words serve as a rude awakening to those millions and millions of men who are becoming every day more useless. Be watchful, dudes: we need super-men, not just men. And your competition is forceful: everyday the shoes are getting better and better. Stupidly, you, naive men, are the ones who improve them. But the point is that the shoes nowadays don’t want just to look good. They want to be enhanced, unbeatable, and irreplaceable. There is the toning shoe, which has become one of the most talked about products in the footwear industry. Toning shoes are said to improve muscle strength and tone, improving balance, improving posture, burning more calories, relieving stress on joints and even eliminating back, foot or leg pain. Which man does all of this at the same time? You also have the running shoes that not only provide substantial midsole foot cushioning, they also offer arch support, aid in the prevention of injuries and can promote improved athletic performance. While it is true that you can go for a healthy run with your guy and have him running in front of you to motivate you to run even faster, and therefore you burn more calories, and while it is undeniable that most men would gladly push you from your behind to help you increase your speed, this doesn’t happen that often. So the shoes are still a better bet; and these are just two easy examples. Picking the right shoes is very important for the body and for the health in general. It should not be just a pretty shoe. Just like if we choose a man who is just a pretty face. Both relationships will not get far. We need both, man and shoe, to be our perfect fit. And for that to happen it is needed much more than just prettiness. Every year, the feminine population loses 44 millions of days of work due to pain, caused by the wrong shoes. And how much time is wasted with the wrong men? The women’s relationship with the shoe will last a long time and there is not even the risk of being left or abandoned. A good pair can last long years, and they can even accompany the woman to her last address on earth, the creepy underground, even if her doesn’t take too much care of them and believe me, they can take quite a beating: we all know that sometimes is not easy to be in a relationship with a woman. At least once a month things evidently don’t get easy for anyone: neither men nor shoes. But as I said, if men still want women, watch out guys: women do love shoes and they are your strongest rivals. It is more likely a man to be left for a shoe than for another man. Every day more we will need men less. I read the other day in the Daily Mail journal that fertility experts from the Institute for Reproductive Medicine and Genetics in Los Angeles have found a way for women to have babies without men. That means that any babies born from the process would be baby girls and genetically identical to their mother. Scary or not, and taken to its extreme, it could lead to a female-dominated society where men have little or no importance: just women and their shoes. Brace, brace guys, brace, brace! Well, Cinderella is proof that one pair of shoes can change a woman’s life. Okay, I give this to you, maybe, just maybe, that is related to the man she met in the process of getting her perfect shoes back. And not all is blue for men: I know for a fact that even the perfect fit can hurt a lot sometimes, regardless if it is a man or a shoe we are talking about. It is all about adjusting. And that fine-tuning can cause bags of discomfort, blisters and pain. But if there is love and will, there is a way to walk on: for the man or for the shoes. Still and stubbornly, I see a safer future in a relationship with a pair of shoes. They are more reliable too and they will always put the woman first. Have you ever heard about a workaholic shoe? Have you ever caught a shoe cheating? Of course not, it is a shoe, are you silly? Well, as you can assume, between men, women and shoes the workaholics are mostly the men. One study counted that over 80 per cent of the people who work 50-hour weeks are men. And we cannot know for sure if they are working. We can only trust. But we do know exactly what the shoe is doing and with whom is fooling around: us. A shoe is with its woman, literally, every step she takes. A shoe will never let us fall asleep alone, if we don’t want. The shoes will always be there in our shoe-closet or next to our bed or at the entrance or in our feet, if we wish so. A shoe will never call us late from work saying that the project is still half way done and he will have to work till late hours that night. A shoe will never cheat. It will never use the gym excuse as a cover for his affair, or a night out with boys that turn out to be a night in with another woman. The shoe will never have another feet in, unless we want to share it. And I don’t like to share anything: only food because by sharing more I gain less weight. The shoes will always belong to that woman, since the first moment she had them on her feet, and only to her. They are just hers, faithful, unconditionally, without reservations, no questions asked. And her pair of shoes will never be tired after work. They would tour all the shops in the mall, twice and three times without making a sound of complaint. And even if one day she takes hours to decide what to dress, and she ends up leaving home at midnight, at the last minute her pair of shoes will not be sleepy, or watching a game, or in a bad mood. They will just be ready waiting for her. My girlfriends complain a lot, about guys mainly, but really a lot. On top of everything I mentioned in here, and this was not an exhaustive list of pros and contras about men and shoes, last night they added the fact that most of their partners don’t know how to dance. Well, once again and predictably, I cheer for the shoes, shaking my red cheerleading pom-poms, and it is not like we have this Club of Men-haters or anything, but the truth is that the shoe will never ever step on us girls while dancing. So shoes win also here. However, there are dancing shoes, but a woman can’t reproduce with them either, and so, for now, a man is still the most pleasurable source of babies making that I can think of. In the end, I guess, every woman is a woman, every man is a case study, and every shoe is in its own shoebox. Every woman is the only one who has to decide what fits her better. I have decided. I’m not saying it’s right, or fair, or correct, but it works better for me to be in a relationship with a shoe. And we are just the perfect fit. Plus, I know for sure that my shoes would never leave me for another younger pair of feet, even if they were a bigger pair than mine.