Girl Gone World

I have always loved the Karoo.
I love the way copper-coloured boulders lie in piles, collected by clans of giant neurotics. I love the crescendos in the sounds of beetles, and the air. Farmers bump along in tractors before the sunlight soaks their fields. I love the sheep. They appear first as rocks, and then chew unexpectedly. I love how the roads bend, rise, and fall, without one knowing it. One drives along them, hypnotized by a sense of terror as the horizon pulls one to it and, one learns, for the first time, how to breathe.
It was barely morning as we drove along the uneven road, on a mission to discover this part of South Africa that is so easily by-passed. As we drove, the city pollution evaporated from our lungs.
The aroma of coffee steamed up the windscreen, giving the scenery a hazy glow to it.
Thorny bushes poked their limbs over rusty fences, still brilliant with dew. Lopsided trees hung over the barbed wire, absorbing the morning calm.
Sitting in the passenger seat, I opened the window to take advantage of the morning hues, using a camera begrudgingly lent to me.
The air was dazzlingly fresh.
“When was the last time you smelt air so sweet?”
“I don’t know. But it sure as hell wasn’t back in P.E.”
The road-side grass melted into a golden blur as we sped past it. In the distance, the koppies seemed static – judging the tourists who drive with their windows down in mid-Winter, taking photos of the landscape.
“Tourists – don’t they know we’re not going anywhere soon?”
Coffee from the flask tasted good.
At unexpected times, square houses with tin tops appeared around bends, and disappeared nearly as fast. The sunrise reflected brightly in their metal roofs. From the tops of hills, they resembled clusters of dawn-time stars, glowing optimistically amid the arid surroundings.
We pulled over to let the vastness of the Karoo sink in. I set my tripod up, with the hope of capturing the mysticism but, it proved impossible. A photo could never convey the scents, sounds, or sense of awe that fill one in moments such as those.
We felt so small: surrounded by ancient boulders, enveloped by a sky so endless.
Vertigo overwhelmed us. We stumbled back to the car, both gasping internally.
As we tumbled into our seats, a friendly trucker blew his horn.
“Hey, tourists! Welcome to the Karoo. It takes some getting used to.”
We waited a moment to catch our breaths. I turned to my companion and shot her an ironic smile.
“Damn all this air.”