<div class="floatleft">(http://i1105.photobucket.com/albums/h357/daniellex28/215f5c00-e5d3-4cb3-966e-883c0d3304bc_zpshuk31qlv.png)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Julie Lancaster (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=250173.msg12381790er#msg12381790)<br/><strong>City | Date | Time:</strong>Lulekani Township near Phalaborwa, South Africa | March 17 2015 | 04:30 PM<br/><strong>Tagging | Mentioning:</strong>Closed, ?<br/><strong>Content:</strong>Taking a well-earned break<br/><hr/><br/>They'd made a valiant effort to arrive before the southern heat really set in, and make it to the neighbouring town of Kruger National Park early, but true to South African tradition everything - or rather, everyone - had been considerably  delayed. By the time the old Wrangler Jeep turned into one of the barely paved roads that led to the heart of Phalaborwa, the heat was beating down on the four occupants, two of which were sitting in the front with all windows down in the futile hope of catching a breeze, the other two in the open back, not faring much better. Or perhaps that was simply Julianne's perception of it; unlike the rest of the group, she was born and raised in good ol' rainy London, where summer temperatures barely surpassed the average December day in Cape Town. And though she'd been back for a good three weeks now (though 'back' was a relative thing; Julie's previous stay on the African continent had been in Kenya, and Kruger National Park was hardly around the corner), she still found herself craving that need for umbrellas and trenchcoats to keep warm. Instead, she much felt like she was overdressed in her sand-coloured cargo pants and cotton top, with a set of far too expensive shades offering some minor protection to the harsh sunlight. Not that she would trade her current home for the world - and the fact that she considered it just that,<em>home</em>, spoke volumes - and she was enjoying the country intensely with all its beauty, grandeur and amazing populace. And while she wasn't blind to the imperfections of the country, she loved it all the same.<br/><br/>They had left the rehabilitation centre that day to stock up on supplies, but just like they had arrived late, so did they find the supplier not quite ready to hand over the crates of fruit, vegetables and everything else Petronel had put on their shopping list. Which, in turn, meant an unexpected two hour break and a chance for Julianne to explore town a bit. Now, it wasn't the first time she'd headed into Lulekani, in fact, her three day introduction had taken place in the development centre for the surrounding townships of the only city bordering Kruger National Park and the inhabitants of the place were more than happy to get to know her. And the feeling was without a doubt mutual; within hours after her arrival Julie had been playing football with a leather, duct-taped excuse for a ball, but with three teams worth of exuberant children cheering and running around the dusty field. Today wasn't much different.<br/><br/>A white woman parading a township would be something strongly discouraged by any of the western tourist offices, but the truth was closer to the opposite; as long as you adhered to a few simple rules (Don't head out at night, don't jump into lonely alleys on your own and if you've got things worth stealing, be sure that no one sees them) it was like a warm bath of hospitality and openness that put the British population to shame. Even as Julie traversed the street she was greeted by merry cries of children who seemed to come pouring out from every hovel, every street and every shed nearby, swarming around the girl whilst shouting words she barely understood. Back in Kenya, Julie had made a valiant effort to master Swahili, but the northern Sotho dialect was something she was still wildly unfamiliar with.<br/><br/><em>"Dumelang! Dumelang!"</em>she greeted them, a grin from ear to ear appearing on her face. The brunette soon lost the freedom of her arms as she was dragged towards the school that had been built only recently.  In their enthusiasm they tugged at her backpack, trying to open the zipper at the back. It wasn't too odd; the arrival of western tourists nowadays often went hand-in-hand with free toys, pencils or candy. And although Julianne had long since exhausted her supply of goodies she'd dragged along from Western Europe, she didn't come completely unprepared, and lollipops served as perfect bribery to regain a bit of personal space, although she remained a focal point of attention. Julie couldn't deny secretly -or openly- enjoying it, and she gladly followed her entourage, using a poor mix of English, Afrikaans and the few words of Sotho  she'd managed to pick up throughout her stay.<br/><br/>It wasn't until they neared the building that she picked up on the fact that she wasn't the only foreigner in the area. Not that that was a completely unique occurrence, it was more that most of the people visiting from North America or Europe stuck to the National parks and the touristic cities. But no, this woman was sitting on the bench outside of, well, a restaurant would be a gross overstatement, but one of the few places that offered food around here. She was dressed not so much for the type of work Julie had dedicated her life to; the breezy skirt she wore  added a touch of femininity that made the brunette feel strangely...shaggy.  Julie did love the local cuisine - and no, the tourist places had nothing on authentic South African cooking - and the combined effort of location and, more prominently, the fair-haired woman sitting rather peacefully eating what was either late lunch or early dinner (and around here, it could easily be either) easily reeled her in.<br/><br/>Curiously, and with a notable lack of subtlety Julianne pointed towards the girl, looking to the kids around her. "Who is that then?" she both asked and gestured, eliciting an abundance  of high-pitched voices crying "<em>Mma! Mma!"</em>as they, even far less subtly, gestured towards this stranger.<em>Mma</em>, though literally translated to 'Miss', was the way most children addressed a female figure of authority; a matron, a teacher perhaps. But although the inquisitive Julie would have gladly interrogated the children further, she simply did not grasp the language enough to do so. So it was with a rather clumsy 'Thank you' that she attempted to bid the local youth goodbye (and more or less succeeded) before pacing over to the little establishment, approaching without any hesitation. It was clear that the commotion had already drawn the attention of the woman, but she seemed to regard it with silent amusement, a pleasant, gentle sort of smile on her lips.<br/><br/>If there was one thing Jules was good at it was adapting to the local culture, which meant that plopping down on the bench opposite this girl without warning was hardly impolite; she was just being friendly! Julie cast the girl a somewhat cheeky grin as she undid her rucksack on the floor, making sure to hook her leg through one of the straps.<br/><br/>"Top of the morning," she said airily, casting the girl a half-smile. "I don't think I've seen you here before!" It was a somewhat nonsensical statement, but Julie gladly overlooked that error. Instead she leaned forward on her elbows, eyes drinking in the girl's appearance with uninhibited curiosity.