TWO QUEENS LOST IN JO’BURG, FOUND IN VODKA.

     “Aunty’s Rules: No regrets , no sleep, no boring nights,”

Passport, Party, and the Hangover Safari.

Let me take you back to the day I earned the official title of “The Drunken Tourist of Johannesburg.””” It all began with a plan so smooth it could’ve been in a travel brochure. Me and my aunty—AKA my favourite partner-in-chaos—got our passports, marched to the airport like two queens on a royal escape mission, and hopped on a flight to South Africa 🌍✈️

We arrived, booked a fancy hotel where even the soap smelled like it had a college degree, and decided to treat ourselves to the full VIP experience. We had a delicious meal that made us want to thank every chicken and spice involved. Then came swimming time—though I mostly floated like a sleepy croissant while my aunty did synchronized swimming moves like she was auditioning for the Olympics.

Fast forward to nightfall—the moment everything went from vacation mode to reality TV-worthy. Aunty looked at me and said, “Tonight, we dance.” I was like, “Sure,” not realizing she meant dance until your knees file a complaint.

We hit a local club where the music was loud, the lights were dramatic, and the drinks were flowing like they had somewhere urgent to be. That’s when it happened: my first encounter with vodka.

Let me tell you—vodka doesn’t say hello politely. It grabs your tastebuds, smacks your sense of balance, and throws your self-control out the window. After two shots, I thought I was Beyoncé. After three, I believed I could speak Zulu fluently. Four? I tried to order a burger from the DJ booth. 🍔🎧

My aunty? Oh, she was just recording every second of my downward spiral like she was filming a documentary: “When Vodka Attacks.”

At one point, I challenged a barstool to a dance-off (and lost), tried to teach strangers a made-up dance move called “The Jellyfish Wiggle,” and—allegedly—tried to climb a light fixture because I thought it was “the North Star.” Security didn’t know whether to throw me out or offer me a reality show contract.

The next morning, I woke up with a hangover so bad I thought I had been bitten by a hyena. My head felt like a marching band had rented space inside it. I asked my aunty if she also felt sick. She said, “Nope, just sore from laughing.”

But the trip wasn’t over! After downing two bottles of water and making peace with my liver, we headed out for a wildlife safari. Lions. Zebras. Elephants. And me, in dark sunglasses, looking like I’d survived a music festival in the jungle. At one point, I swear a monkey looked at me and said, “Rough night, huh?”


Lesson learned: Never underestimate your aunty, never trust vodka, and never go on a safari while slightly hungover—unless you want a lion to side-eye, you like it knows all your secrets. 🦁🥴🍸

“What happened in South Africa ……lives in my Aunty’s camera roll“