It feels right for me to raise praise to this city that I live in now. When I think of a word to describe her, I want a word that not only describes the beauty but captures the essence of her. I search my mind for such a word (short trip) I search through books, and magazine I’ve come across but still haven’t found Cape Town’s perfect word yet. It cannot be just any old thing. She is special, alive, she has a pulse. She has the ability to breathe life into you…and take your breath away with scene’s of cascading mountain’s and rolling clouds, of beaches pulsating with all the sexuality that the beautiful provide…feeding their skin with some white hot sun. These sun kisses turn them into Demi Gods. Skin bronzed, hair light and flowing bodies aching to be kissed again, soon. They leave there special beaches and walk straight into a chilled glass of perspective- mojito’s most likely ,or maybe a 12 year old single malt whiskey…it depends on what the Gods feel like when quenching their inner flames.
The city bowl or centre of this city has a bohemian feel. Old buildings stare down at you calmly, secure in the knowledge that they know what you are doing. They know you have come to play. They want you to play. Start at the top and work your way down the length of me they whisper into the wind. You will be obliged to participate. Mixed race couple’s walk freely, gay couple’s make out on a street corner, straight couple’s, old, young, richer, poorer, it doesn’t matter who you are,-and there is space and place for all. Every place in the city bowl is over flowing with charm and character, laughter and intention. You can walk into one world and cross the road over to another. You make friends in an instant because its ‘make love not war’ atmosphere seeps in quickly. Smiling faces, rhythmic music, swaying arms, cigarette smoke and the faint sniff of weed all adds to this eclectic place of wonder.
And then there are the gems hidden in between the mountains and hills .It’s like biting a piece of chocolate only to find out it’s not just chocolate-its chocolate with toffee pieces inside! The wine farms...To conquer them all in one day would be a noble effort but you wouldn’t get very far as the number of farms offering wine tasting exceeds the human body’s ability to function after a certain degree of intoxication. It’s a little bit like heaven. For those newbie’s, when you arrive at a farm they treat you like royalty, they lead you to the best spot they have available and then they offer you their wares. This is a very painful selection…which wine do you leave behind, and which one do you allow into your soul? Then they bring the spittoon.*HA* like I’m gonna spit out! Nope – this occasion calls for swallowing. So yes, when I am on a wine farm-I swallow…never spit-it’s just plain wasteful and disrespectful. This whole road trip should be done with close trust worthy friends and potentially a designated Dave should be established beforehand. These farms also offer Moorish lunches that make you hate yourself for ever having put a Mc’D's burger to your freakin lips! The cheese platters offer you a quick drift into France, with changing faces after every sip of wine.Yum.
This city never ever never sleeps! Even on a Sunday afternoon. The best place on a Sunday to go is to Mzoli’s. It’s a classic shabeen (watering hole) in Gugulethu, a loxion, a kasi, a ghetto! But man it is fun! The rule of thumb is that you get in by 1pm and you are out no later than 5pm.If you are not from Gug’s- you are NOT FROM GUG’S! Get what I’m saying?! This shabeen has developed into a bar/restaurant (using term loosely).It is basic, so don’t expect gold rimmed toilet seats or any toilet seat for that matter. It is a “normal” informal settlement for the most part, surrounded by semi formal housing and “modern” shacks. It is generally filled with all sorts of our people but within Moil’s; it’s about 70% foreign. Most of who have come to experience the REAL Cape Town. What they leave with though is exposure to the melting pot that has become Cape Town. Angolan, Swedish, Brit and Congo...it’s all good. There is dancing, and smoking (waki or cheese) you can bring your own ...it is a carefree place-just to past time until Monday morning’s madness. I have been and was lucky enough to get a very inappropriate hug from Mzoli himself as he whipped through his establishment. This is an honour I am told. Okay...At first I was sceptical, how could you possibly travel into a ghetto and party without feeling nervous. I stood at first with my back to the wall like an ex convict waiting for shite to happen. And then I realized that if there is any safer place to be while in this ghetto it would be in my car getting out of the ghetto! The people are friendly-the place is friendly. The funniest and most alarming thing though was to see braaied meat being brought to paying customers in small to medium sized washing buckets! Placed gently into the middle of the pride of hungry lions where everyone just digs in and flashes the food...no cutlery allowed. It was a bit of a culture shock for me, eish...yah ne even lil ol me...I was told not to eat with my hands but watching them devour the meat, fingers and cheeks shining from the greasy goodness, the smell of it making my tummy grumble with jealousy….it looked like it was sooo good and the only way clearly, was to eat it with the God-given utensils. Most Capetonians (hopefully) have been to this place and to be accepted into the tribe, you have to go. It’s that or having a series of injections into your knee caps.
The different nationalities that live here have created an abundance of different cuisines to try. The local Muslim (possibly Malay) cuisine, absolutely delish! Saomoosa’s and gatsby’s and salome’s…these are all some sort of bread with spiced meat, masala, chilli powder, turmeric, garlic ,lots of oily goodness-all combined to create a fiery hot masterpiece. But the portion’s are a kin to little island’s so it never my first choice. Plus heartburn city is not a place I like to visit to often. But a local dish or food I love is snoek .It’s my fish. If you run the word snoek through a number of ciphers and decode it, and scrutinize it under meridian time, and then flip it upside down and work it through the Mayan calendar…it actually says Caron’s Fish. It is large and fleshy, almost nutty aftertaste. Its creaminess means it can work as a pate (my favourite), fried, grilled or steamed. It goes well with roast potatoes and pumpkin. Its amazing slit down the middle with apricot jam smeared on the inner flesh then layers of cheese, green pepper and tomato placed. Wrapped in foil to hold in the juices, and put on the grill. The many bones serve as great little tooth picks for after Asian food is very popular in Cape Town. I suppose it’s because of two main things, well in my opinion. There is a readily available supply of fresh fish daily .And the lifestyle of most dictates a healthier alternative to heavy pasta, pizza, curry and burgers. But it doesn’t matter what you feel for that day. You are sure to find a place that offers it.
Now every city in this world has its bad apples and Cape Town is no different. In fact some of the most notorious gangs dwell in the underground. Some mafia and posh gangster’s skim the outskirts-coming in to play when the heat is not hot. Precautionary measures should be taken at all times to avoid the places where gangs are. But in general the people are friendly and helpful and funny as hell. The vendors on the street all have their own little catch phrases to draw you closer, and once you are near enough they start their sales pitch which usually comes in a melodic rhyming little sonnet. Even if you don’t understand what they are saying-you’ll giggle at the effort. The most beautiful people live here. Sexy is everywhere .It makes you walk up a little straighter, stomach in chest out .Like a Peacock It is motivation to check yourself as you reach for your second helping, it is motivation to have that Pedi ,it is motivation full stop. But it’s not just a physical beauty, it’s an attitude .A plus sized woman walking in hot shorts, white strappy vest, cork wedges, big bronze bracelets and earrings to match, hair done just right is a common sight. And I like that. I like even more that the only people to notice such things are people like me who have not been here for very long, still learning. They walk with pride, swaying hips, flipping their hair over their shoulders. They are sexy because they are confident. There is no heavy judgement. You can go to the beach and not be perfectly proportioned and not feel out of place. Everyone is there to feel the magic, so feel the magic! Forget about your stretched marked bellies, your cottage cheese thighs (goes great with crackers) forget about sagging boobs and double chin….YOU’RE IN CAPE TOWN BABY!!!!!
The men here are hilarious in their ballsy affirmation of beautiful woman. They cat whistle and call you girly and walk with a swag that looks like they pinched a nerve in one cheek. Arms behind their backs, left hand clutching right elbow….and as you pass they flash you a super sexy toothless grin…I mean really who could resist all that! The more subtle ones just rubber neck as you walk by -they rubber neck right into the girlfriend or wife’s right hook. And by the time you have passed them it is normal to make sure that he didn’t in fact undress you with his eyes.
I had a great tour guide through my city, he showed me places I knew about and liked but now I love this place. And I have full intention of making an honest woman out of her and marrying her. I will die here one day. And i want my ashes to scattered off the boulder I stood on when I climbed Lions Head for the first time. That is also my boulder. Only the brave can go there. Only the fearless, only the mad may see. But when that day comes-(of course making sure the wind is blowing into the right direction…I really wouldn’t want my ashes to end up in someone’s face-that wouldn’t be good) I want to drift one last time from my boulder and parts of me to fall onto the land and some to carry out to sea .A bit of morbid always seems to liven up the place wouldn’t you say.
But with everything I have said, and it is only a handful of words put together to describe some of the things that make this city spectacular. I still have not found a word. What one word could possibly describe all that I have said and more?
Different- a pleasant change from the norm
Majestic- magic happens here everyday
Alive - everything has a pulse even the tar on a hot day
They just don’t fit. So what then? Maybe Cape Town doesn’t have a word. It has no need for one, or it could be that Cape Town gives you a word. Well I know the word that Cape Town has given to me. It is Happy.
I am Happy.
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