Category: Life and Social

Playing Tourist in Cape Town

~ marobbie ~ 1 Comment

It is an absolute hazard to walk Cape Town as a tourist. A hazard to your pocket that is.
Yesterday my colleague Kirsten and I walked out of the office to have a cup of coffee.
It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon, but in Cape Town this is not exactly the greatest time to tour the coffee shops on St. George’s Mall. Most shops close by one, and the Mall turns into a silent and empty space, save for a few coffee shops that cater mainly for tourists.
We ventured first to the Gold Museum on Strand Street, but its coffee shop was closed for a function. The museum itself has a collection of exhibits, traditional African gold pieces as I understood from Kirsten; their owner made them available to the public in one of the older buildings on Strand Street. The street is incidentally where we both work.
We marched onwards looking for our cup of coffee, and ended up on the Green Market Square.
Here one of the coffee shops has spilled over its white plastic and metal chairs onto the pavement. A few people were indulging outside while the person working on the take away hutch looked glumly outside. Inside the restaurant a handful of African waitrons and waitresses where swaying to loud African rhythms blaring from stereo loudspeakers, and in true African tradition they continued their merry-making oblivious to the pair of us waiting outside on the empty table. Kirsten turned her head on all this, preferring to watch a group of youngsters, barefooted and scrawny, singing and dancing and drumming for the pleasure of the bored tourists. The youngsters smart as they are in peddling their primitive music, caught on immediately and Kirsten could not resist giving a full five Rand coin to the little girl who had just finished jumping around and doing the split, I had to dig into my wallet as well for a couple of stray coppers ( and one or two silver coins no less).
After a few minutes of being caught between these two conflicting rhythms ( the street dancers on one side and the staff’s choice of hip hop on the other), we decided to move on, especially since we have seen only the backs of the merry waiters at the coffee shop. Oh, maybe we just caught them at a bad time.
In the end we had our coffee, at a small place called Afro Cafe. This place has the uncomplicated feel and colour of the African continent. The plastic table cloths sport the African colours and dance with the brilliance of yellows, reds and greens. The lighting fixtures are made of recycled material, green plastic bottles and red caps among a myriad of other brightly coloured scrap.
Here as well we did not fail to attract the tourists. One guy came to sell us the ‘Big Issue’ a magazine whose sole purpose is to create an income for the people selling it.
Once he sold us one copy he turned to the next customer begging him to buy another one from him, it was the last one he said.
Next came the bead artist, he had wall hangings and key chains, composed of beads threaded on fine wire. The shapes and colours were really amazing and very true to life, I pondered buying a gecko or a chameleon and in the end settled for a plump little aircraft – that was not as well proportioned as the animals, but which I thought would be more practical for me to carry around in a bag.
At one time I actually succeeded in turning the gentle African salesman away, by telling him I worked in this place, I earned my money in Rands, but then I made a mistake of asking him where he came from, and he said from Zimbabwe, and at once I felt his polite admission tug at my heart. How could I resist helping a Zimbabwean brother, whose whole family could be dependent on selling one ornament.
So I came back after this outing, poorer in pocket but richer in experience. I must say Kirsten and I make a terrible pair, she can’t resist buying stuff and she mostly shames me into doing the same.

New Start ?

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I am writing this while the wind is blowing on the Atlantic Seaboard, fireworks are cracking in the darkness and lighting up the sky with frequent colour bursts.
Our new flat is really nice, it has a view over the water all the way to the other side of Cape Town, along the Atlantic coast to Table View. It is great to watch the ships sail by from my side of the window while I work on the computer, or look up Signal Hill as I wash dishes. The only negative thing about the flat, and it is quite an important one is that it lies on the juncture of two of the busiest roads in Cape Town, the traffic simply never stops.

The afternoon was nice and sunny today, and I spent some time with two nice women, an old friend and probably a new one, the company garden was full of people of every colour and creed.
I had lots on my mind so I did not really watch the people. The animal life though attracted my attention: doves and pigeons, squirrels, and mice. We saw one really big rat, larger than a squirrel, it competed with the furry guys over crackers and nuts, and most likely it was the winner.
There is also a large Koi pond teeming with little fish, the parents quite big, one of my friends commented that they would make great Sushi.
We had scones and tea, not quite a posh affair at the public gardens, but still a treat. And as we were leaving there was a wedding procession visiting the garden for photos.

The afternoon was unfortunately too short, and tomorrow is another day at work.

For starters

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The initial panic is over for me and for my black cat. We are sitting in the big new flat, surrounded by things, most of which have stories we know nothing about.
For my part, I will try to make peace with the past, where it came from does not concern me, as long as it does not suck me in its undertow, it is fine.

I am who I am, and being without baggage and without possessions is my choice, I adopted my partner’s possessions and I will enjoy them for what they are. Possessions will never claim me, but I can still appreciate them.
The cat is quite a different story, the cat has to learn its territory, and accept its limitations.

My husband also has to accept me and the cat. Contrary to what he believes, he is not the only one making compromises. I know that I would personally prefer a much simpler, barer existence.
If this is our new start, I would rather start on a fresh canvas, put in my own shades and colours.
The apartment I lived in before we came back together, might have looked to him like a dump. To me however it was a work in progress, an unfinished canvas. My time, and the emotional roller coaster I was riding on prevented me from completing it to my liking, but I was going to get there one way or another.
The canvas that I would have drawn would have included soft fabrics, knitted throws and crocheted cushions – things like that speak to me more than a leather sofa, rosewood furniture and fine china lamps; I have no use for those. I prefer scented candles and incense sticks.

I spoke to two of my friends today, they saw that my husband and I have two sets of conflicting values. The question is whether we can compromise between them or not.

Petey the cat has walked outside to the kitchen balcony today, sniffed around and stretched tippy toeing on his hind legs to peek over the balcony wall. He was quite funny, stretched tall there and supporting himself against the wall with one paw. I wish I had my phone camera handy.
Eventually, I will take him down to the garden and he will be happy. Ron still protests tells me it would make life more difficult – compromise ? where is his compromise?

Remains to be seen.

Round and Round

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I don’t think that I can ever write in this blog with my real name. People might think I am a lunatic or something. This project started with the intention of mapping my life near the Cape of Good hope, it turned out into a study in hopelessness. It has been almost a year since I wrote here, and ironically it is again the season of heartbreak in Cape Town ! I feel edgy and unhappy, and confused.
Since my doomed crush on Aquarius went nowhere, I got cold feet regarding my breakup with Husband. I pulled the plug on the divorce, and coughed up the lawyer bill.
In the divine wisdom of pop culture : “Love The One You’re With” (If you can’t be with the one you love).
So this was great, I swallowed a big wallop of my pride, and begged Husband to get back. He left for a few months home to Canada, then came back, called the moving van and shipped loads of stuff to Cape Town. The furniture has been in storage ever since, awaiting the time when it can be set up in a place we can call a home.
The past few months I was happy – I think – living on makeshift and 2nd hand furniture, and having very few possessions. We spent lots of time together or in the outdoors.
At the end of October we moved from the old flat, gave away the old rickety ‘furniture’ or whatever you might want to call it.

Yesterday it was the day, the day we were supposed to get our nice things, and put it in our home. Yes, the furniture arrived yesterday, and along with it came the foreboding. I do not know what is up with me. All of a sudden I see the expensive things, the box of old love letters, the diving equipment and the sport bags — his things, and again there is nothing of me here, just a few crates of books, and suitcase full of coloured threads that I wanted to knit one day into and afghan, and a black emotionally disturbed cat.
Years back, we bought some things together : A bed, a leather sofa ( his dream was always to have one) and a desk for me, but Husband has had almost everything else longer that I have been with him. He calls these nice pieces a legacy, and now they are incompatible with one of the few things that I do care about … Petey my cat.
The cat is sleeping in the closet now, he is disoriented and sad to lose his home, and I do not know why I relate to him so much. I will have to figure this one out.

Open Letter to Mr. Aquarius

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I don’t know why I am writing this. I feel drained and tired. My alarm clock startled me at 5:30 today interrupting yet another dream about you. I tried to banish the thoughts, turned on the radio, but there was Freshly Ground signing – What Would You Do. I just gave up and left the thoughts to ferment in my head. No use fighting what I can’t change. I don’t know why I keep torturing myself with this. I heard your message loud and clear, and I am not sure now whether I can still classify you as a friend. Maybe it is just as well this way. I do not trust irrational feelings either.When you came along in my life, I suddenly realized that the space beside me and inside my heart does not have my husband’s name on it anymore. So instead of living with an imbalance, I chose to clean-sweep my life. Start over, build something new from scratch. In the process I might have saved myself. I still have a few unrealized dreams, that I can work towards on my own.However, when you came into my life, you also exposed an elemental longing. An Astrologist would say that I am looking for my second half – my cosmic twin.
Trying to rationalize the irrational, I say to myself that I am more attached to the ideal than the person. You just had the questionable honour of being here at the wrong time.
For your character I painted: Quiet intelligence, latent but healthy sense of humor, sensitivity and probably most of all gentleness. Who knows maybe all that is in my imagination.
I never had a chance to know your vices, maybe they would have scared me away.

I suddenly remember now, that I know a person back home with exactly the same qualities I credit you for. He liked me very much, but I though he was boring.
I knew him as a child, knew his problems, his less than perfect family background, his insecurities, and his fears – there was no mystery there.
In the end another woman discovered him and he is living happily ever after. Happier than he would have ever been with me.

Moral of the story ? Maybe if I knew you better this irrationality will go away. Unfortunately I can’t speculate on this because it is not up to me.

In the meantime, I will try to stay away from the radio.

Cruelty – Bitter Medicine Against Bad Karma

~ marobbie ~ 1 Comment

A friend of mine broke up yesterday with her new boyfriend. It wasn’t something that was going on for very long, but the man took it really hard.
Monnie herself is unfazed, she was starting to feel suffocated by the possessiveness of an older guy. I rest my case, it was the story of my life.

Today is the birthday of who will hopefully become soon my ex-husband. I am surprised that I feel nothing. Really, am I numbing my feelings of pain and sorrow over him ? I like to think that I am a kind person by nature, but this time it was my life or his. I chose mine. There was simply no competition. And like once I had my reasons to carry him into my heart, today I have my reasons to shut him completely out of it, and dish out cruelty – there are no maybes in this game : You either want to be with someone, or you don’t.

Somewhere along the road, the vision of us growing old together blurred, and then completely disappeared. Even when we had that short interlude together two months ago, I had problems picturing us together for ever and ever after.

Today I started picking up the pieces of my new life. First was a stop at the traffic department in Green Point.
During our earlier correspondence Ron wrote to me how bad it was and how many trips it took him to get it resolved. His negative attitude made me procrastinate this mission until today.
So I went, carrying my ugly-looking black-and-white pictures with me.
The eyetest was a breeze and so the fingerprints, I thanked the guys for their efficiency. They gave me a pitying smile which I didn’t understand until I faced the 20 metre queue in front of counter No. 8.
I took a deep breath and thought, well I might as well stay. In front of me was a large number of people, which did not seem to be moving at all. The people giving up on what seemed to be an endless wait, lightened it somewhat. Actually, the rate of people leaving the queue to the exit, was much higher than those proceeding to the counter.
Sometime after half an hour or so I started chatting with Mr. Negativity in front of me in the queue – He was going on how he will never pay a fine again, and never apply for another driver’s license. I was just laughing and making jokes with the others in the queue. I yelled Yay, everytime sombody made it to the counter.
It was amazing but this helped a lot. Soon enough there were three windows processing the long queue. I had arrived sometime around 10: 00 and I told Mr. Negativity that we will make it just before twelve, and we did. Maybe it was my imagination, but the moment Mr. Negativity left the queue things started moving faster again.
I could not help but breath I sigh of relief, I was married to a version of Mr. Negativity. It is so draining to be around this sort of person.

At the counter, an efficient woman hammered on the keyboard and gave me presently the bad news that I was expecting from Ron’s report. I was registered at the traffic department with a temporary ID which is the traffic registration certificate. And now since I had a South African ID document, I needed to get the two merged at the civic centre in town.
I took a deep gulp of air, and asked the lady nicely whether there was a queue there as well. Of course she could not give me this information, but gave me directions where to go, and stamped a paper for me so that I can come back straight to her counter and not via the queue. I was so grateful to her I could have hugged her.
I was getting tired, but still I managed to trek up the road to the civic centre probably three kilometres or so. The lady at information asked me about the traffic registration document, which I did not have – and had very little chance of getting anytime soon since it resided with Ron’s papers in East London. Nevertheless, I chose to proceed to the counter and state my case.
After a 10-minute wait I was at the counter. The woman asked about the document but I told her plainly that I was divorced and had very little chance of getting it.
She just sighed and gave me that look. Africans often give it, you don’t know what it means actually.
In the end she did it. Merged my details, changed my address and smiled. I was faint with relief.

I was again at traffic department within 30 minutes, and within five minutes had my temporary driver’s license in my pocket. Life is good, the angels ARE on my side.
Next was a stop at the bank and the shop. I was home at two, a good day’s work.
I accomplished, with patience, honesty and a smile – in half a day, what Ron failed to do over a week of struggling and complaining and fighting with people.
My luck is changing ? You bet. Ron was bad Karma, and I had to cure it with the bitter medicine of cruelty.

All is God’s will.

Second Time Around ?

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Reality bites. It bit me this time with its poison fangs. I am alone.
For right or wrong reasons I did what I did and I can go to sleep with a clean conscience.

Yesterday was easy, I was lashing out for my freedom. For my right to be happy, to be loved on the premise of trust, not on the premise of resignation to my fate.
I wanted to meet my destiny and feel the sun on my face.
Today is different. The future lies in front of me, barren and empty. And the thought that perhaps an imperfect love is better than no love all squeezes at my heart with icy hands.
There is also the Fear, at the pit of my stomach, that I have blown my final chance at modest happiness, for an illusion of a perfect one.

I have jumped the water for a second time. This time there is no turning back, I know it for sure this time.

Second chances?

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So Husband has come and gone, and I have decided to give him a second chance.
He did surprise me with the way he changed his looks and his behaviour, yet the part of him that drove me away still lurks there under the surface. It came out once or twice.

Funny that my relationship with him seems to be always hanging on a thread. I always end up giving in at the very last moment. Sometimes I don’t think I love him enough.

This time we had fun together, the woman that he almost killed in me managed to resurface again and enjoyed herself. The child though didn’t, it will always remain hampered by age – his age.

Now that he managed to charm all my friends I find myself obliged to give him another try, for old time’s sake. Yet I am very conscious of the need to keep in control, to stay in the driver’s seat lest things go under again.

I wonder whether this is the correct premise to build a relationship on.
Have to wait and see.

Cape Town Season of Heartbreak

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Tomorrow, I will meet Ron, my ex, for the first time in over two months. I still cannot imagine myself rebuilding a life with him, but he seems to be dedicated to the idea. I thought I might as well give him the benefit of the doubt. I am interested to find out what my reaction to him will be after all this time.I am not the only one who is suffering relationship trouble these days. Three of my friends are going through breakup at the moment. According to my best friend, Jackie, who should be an authority on the subject, it is a seasonal thing in Cape Town. October and November, are apparently the Capetonian seasons for broken hearts. Summer makes people yearn for change I suppose. It is also the time when all the rich young guys from Johannesburg drive down here in their Lamborghinis and Ferraris.

One of the three breakups brought an interesting aspect back into my life. Mr. Aquarius is single again. I almost feel guilty that the thought cheers me up, but I tell myself that, of course I am relieved for his sake. His was one of those yo-yo relationships where the up and down come at regular intervals, which is nerve wracking and emotionally draining. I should know because I have been there. But I am not telling the full story.
The real story is that, shortly after arriving here, I developed a crush on Aquarius. For whatever reason, he became the new flush in my cheeks, and the spring in my step. I enjoyed every moment of it – the childish blushes, falling totally silent or resorting to diarrhea talk, whenever he was around. I was so obviously infatuated, yet I did not mind. When my friends bickered me about him I just laughed; I knew enough to appreciate how special these fleeting feelings were. Things were put into perspective shortly thereafter. He was not interested, he had a girlfriend, and what the hell was I thinking anyway. I kept him in my mind, in one of those small back corners, reserved for my rare brushes with madness.

Jackie and I met him today for breakfast. Before the food order arrived, Jackie excused herself for a minute to buy some medication, and that is when he brought up the subject of his breakup with the girlfriend. I babbled like an idiot for a few minutes, as I usually do when I am left alone with him, and mercifully Jackie arrived before too long. He must know the strange bend in my mind. If it bothers him, he will find a simple way of avoiding me. Eventually, I will grow up and act my age – like I always do. I have always been cynical and pragmatic even in matters of love. My moments of madness were very few and far between. Yet I come from a culture which recognises about 50 different degrees of love, and sometimes I think that the love I read about in those classics does exist. And If it does it isn’t it a waste to settle for the mediocre ?

Aquarius might not be the real thing, but maybe I can relive those feelings again, one day, with another man ? I doubt that it will be possible for me to feel them for Ron. I should be working right now, but I find my mind always going back to Mr. Aquarius. He has resurfaced from the dark recessess of mind, demanding my full attention. The timing is strange. Why should it happen now, when Ron is trying to make his way back into my life ? Is Aquarius my defense mechanism against the past ? It remains to be seen.

November Is Here

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A new months already, and I can’t believe that I have been in Cape Town already two months and a half. Time really flies.
Good news: I have got an ADSL line at my flat now; it seems that Telkom does get around to installing them after all. It took them long enough.

This morning started with me, on the payphone, holding for a long time for the ADSL helpline, mercifully on a Tollfree number. I registered a complaint and went through the motions, thinking of the exercise as another dead end. As it happened, I got a call in the afternoon. The technician said he will be there between four and five. At five two guys arrived, at five thirty it was all done!
I was impressed with the technicians but not that much with Telkom.
Another peg in MY grounds. All I need now is an ADSL modem, then I will be at large on the net.

The ex hasn’t emailed today. He is probably stuck up to his neck in trouble, with month end and all that. Petrol price is coming down this month as well, and this adds a little bit more spice to his pot.

I tried to get some errands done in Town today. It turned out that I need a roadworthy test for the car before it is registered in my name, and since my friend Derek is using the car from 7:30 until late at night, it will be difficult to arrange the roadworthy for this week.
Maybe next week, when Husband is here?

I walked from Town to the traffic department in Green Point. On the way I passed by a furniture shop and browsed for couches and other stuff. I need almost everything for my flat still. A guy at the reception came up to me and claimed that my face looks familiar, and didn’t I go to the Belville Branch. I said to him, no, I never went to Belville at all.
He insisted – of course it is the least imaginative pickup line in the world, but he killed it with trying. He wanted my cell phone number, but I asked for his (my famous counter-strategy ) – When I took my phone out to store his number, his brain-dead comment was: “oh, that’s like my mother’s phone” – great man, I already thought I was old enough to be your mom.
In any case, just in case a cape Town chick is reading this
His name is Wesley and his number is : 072 4625978. He lives in Belville. He is not bad looking but unfortunately I am looking for somebody a little older, who can make better use of his grey cells.

I spent the evening with Jackie and her cat. We watched reality TV, and gossiping during ad breaks. She cooked a lovely meal for us. Details in the food chart.

Food Chart:

Breakfast :
Nectarine, orange, Oaties and Milk, a toasted sandwich ( two pieces of whole-wheat bread, cheese, tomato and onion ) – Cup of coffee, which I did not finish because I was in a hurry to go out and complain about Telkom.

Lunch :
New York Deli day-old ( R 7.00 = 1 Eur ) : Bagel-Sandwich: Smoked salmon and cream cheese, with salad and pickles. Two glasses of sangria ( passion fruit ) .

Snacking :
Decaf coffee in a 500ml plunge, with two chococchino coconut biscuits, and three marshmallows. I also had an apple and a pear during the day.

Supper:
Which I enjoyed at my friend’s Jackie’s: Spaghetti Bolognaise (divine) followed by tea with milk and sugar.

Work Chart:
Received correspondence from Cape Town agency – they will only pay today.
Follow up on car registration – horribly overdue.

Play Chart:
Visiting Jackie and watching survivor Palau ? – Intriguing
A couple of games of Kaiodai.

Music feed:
Radio 2000
Song choice: Look Away – by Big Country ( A one hit wonder – you will not remember that unless you were a teenager in the eighties ) This is the second reference to my age in this blog oops.
Or: Two out of three aint bad by Meatloaf.

Useful item of the day:
An ADSL modem – because I don’t have one yet.
My flat comfortable shoes I bought years ago in Sharjah, because I walked a long way today, and did not pay in blisters.

Selected chores:
A load of bathtub washing, which is now waiting for a wink from Cape Town’s stingy sunshine. The wind will probably dry the washing first.

Useless information of the day:
In Cape Town you pay for your car registration more than double what you pay in other provinces. It cost here R 279.00 versus only R 129.00 in the Eastern Cape.