Girl gone wild

Last week, when I was called into my editor's office, the inner critic that lurks inside my head pointed me to the conclusion that I must in some sort of trouble – no doubt some errant spelling or not-so-factual fact (these are the things that keep copy eds up at night). But I was pleasantly surprised when instead of a lambasting, she asked me if I'd be willing to fly to Sun City – for three (work) days. 

After careful consideration that lasted for about 1.3 nanoseconds, I said yes, without even caring what the reason for my little trip was. My mind was too busy doing a happy dance, like that weird cousin from the Fresh Prince of Bel Air. Fast-forward a couple of days later, and I'm at the airport – boarding a flight for Lanseria. Jet-setter. Yeah, that's me.The entrance to the Palace. Pretty, no? Sun City Girlfriend's Getaway – that's what they were calling this expedition. Basically, in celebration of Women's Day – and the ensuing month – Sun City, the PR agency and a few sponsors had thought it a good idea to round up some local female celebs and send them to Sun City for three days, where they'd be wined, dined and pampered. 

Day One: the good life

As you've no doubt guessed, I'm not quite a celeb, but I am female, local and in media – hence my invite. On arrival, we discovered that we were staying at the Palace – the grandest and most expensive of the hotels. (Cue happy dance again.) And the suite certainly lived up to the hotel's reputation – oh-so-very jouge. By the end of day one, I found myself happily fed, sufficiently tipsy and the owner of trendy looking and properly manicured nails. 

The next morning started off with a full breakfast at the hotel's impressive dining room. I had to suppress my inner kid just to stop myself from running up and down the buffet line screeching 'Whheeeeeeeeee'. (I didn't, in case you were wondering.) And then it was time for the main event around which the entire getaway had been organised. An 'Amazing Race', based on TV's Amazing Race. Bearing in mind that the female celebs in attendance were mostly diva TV presenters and beauty queens, I felt fairly confident that the race wouldn't be all that taxing. Jesus Christ was I wrong. It started off well enough – we were all presented with brand new watches and Clinique misters and suncream (yay free loot!). And then it began – three solid hours of extreme exercise that shaved about five years off my life. The race started with a memory challenge, which I'd assumed would set the tone for the remainder of the race. My team won the challenge and so we headed off first. Running. Running up the countless stairs leading back to the hotel. Running through the hotel. Running to the golf course towards the driving range. Then it was back, past the hotel, to the amphitheatre, galloping all the way. After searching for clues, it was off to a water park where, instead of floating down the entire course, we ran it. In the water. Fully clothed. On a cold Highveld morning in the middle of winter. Ice ice baby. With a newfound respect for water aerobics and weighing about 10 kg heavier thanks to my drenched gym clothes, it was back to running – all the way to the entertainment centre. Then all the way to the tennis courts. There I had a chance to catch my breath as we signed indemnity forms and received a quick crash course on how to ride a Segway – around an obstacle course. As a girl with zero ability to ice-skate/rollerblade/skateboard, I suspected this would prove challenging, but I was just so incredibly grateful not to be running that I jumped the queue and volunteered to be one of the first to try it out. It was nerve-wracking, and with TV cameras trained on my still-soggy butt, the pressure was on. But I bravely soldiered on and completed the course – albeit in record slow mo. Whatever. I felt like a winner. After my team members had also rocked the Segway, it was back to running – this time to the archery target place thingie. There's a term for it, I'm sure. Anyway, turns out yours truly doesn't entirely suck at the bow and arrow, with one of my three tries finding success. Yay! 

Chicks with balls

Then it was a little paintball, which truth be told, I didn't even get to try, which was disappointing. Then there was a touch of football scoring, which wasn't bad either.  Turns out that I'm not terrible at activities that don't involve running. Go figure. Then came the highlight of the entire event (second to it being over, that is) – jet skiing!!!!! I've always wanted to try that, and it was so much fun! If we weren't in a race, I don't think I would've ever got off. After that, it was off to the cultural village for the final challenge which, to my horror, involved eating chicken feet and drinking traditional sorghum beer. I know it could've been a lot worse and that we got off relatively lightly, but it was utterly disgusting and I really struggled to get it down. But I did – well at least, some of it. Sadly, our stoic efforts weren't quite enough and we were narrowly beaten to the finish. I remain convinced that there was cheating on the victors' part, but at the time, I was just relieved that the suffering was over. Although we had lost, I decided to reward myself with a delicious G&T, double thank you very much. It effectively calmed my nerves and took away some of the nasty greasy feet taste that lingered in my mouth. So foul. (Ha ha. Geddit?Foul? Fowl? Never mind.)

I mean, have you ever?!?!??!

The remainder of the day centred around much-needed makeup makeovers and wheezing like a chronic smoker. Sexy. Even the cocktail party that evening ended early as no one had the energy to party like it was 1999. What surprised me was the tenacity of the celebs on my team. While myself and the other two journalists plodded along at the back, the more well-known ladies were in the front the whole time, encouraging us and being supportive, albeit a little snappy at times. Specifically when I was hesitant to eat un-manicured chicken paws, at which point a certain ex-Miss SA screeched at me to "JUST EAT IT!" She was scary; I complied. 

Just like that, the getaway was over, and I was being shuttled back to Cape Town, laden with goodie bags, achy limbs and a dire need for a good night's sleep. It was quite an experience, I must say. Between running like a crazy woman to drinking Jagermeister shots at the bar of a R50 000 suite with a cute TV producer, it was all good. Plus it certainly beat being at the office. And I'm loving my new watch and fabulous Clinique skincare products but I can honestly say that if I never have to run again, it'll be too soon.