Things have been pretty busy. A few weekends ago I went to the famous Drakensberg for the first time, with a group of Afro-Indo-internationals featuring a good smattering of McKinsey, De Beers and small children thrown in. Possibly the most vociferous group of people I've ever been on a trip with, in fact. We were stopped by a large-bellied policeman on the way for speeding. For some reason he decided to let us off. We consumed large amounts of good food and wine and debated (well, they debated; I wasn't loud enough to get a word in edgeways) everything under the sun.
.JPG)
The Wisteria Lane Frontier is fine. The dense Johannesburg forest has greened with the rain and my balcony is slowly being populated with plants. I've done quite a bit, now that I think about it, including an open air electro-jazz concert at Emmarentia dam, a concert by the Joburg Philharmonic, a Christmas Carols in one of the Fourways shopping centre theatres (yeah, it's early for that, that was my thought too) , and a party with some the city's urban black chic in a completely amazing refurbished refinery warehouse downtown. I've done work-related radio interviews for SABC Durban, a Jewish community station (random) and visited the SABC headquarters.
I've been to an art exhibit by a Nigerian collector in Parkhurst, hosted by a very elegant Zambian woman. And I've been beekeeping with the crazy French-Portuguese man and one of my botanist friends in a sprawling grove of blue gums in the grounds of a nuclear research station in Westonaria (yeah, I know, how bizarre does it get). We picnicked with white wine and quiche and argued considerably about gender relations, marriage, and nature versus nurture. I've experimented with a few yoga classes, sadly none of which I like. I've started one-to-one sessions with a trainer at the gym, and could barely walk this past week, needless to say. This morning I met this Polish immigrant woman with a great sense of humour who runs a ramshackle organic farm in Kyalami. I brought preserves and gem squash for eight rand a kilo. You can't really go wrong on that. Last but not least, I hired domestic labour for the first time two weeks ago -- not sure how I feel about it. The lady took some of my cardboard boxes back to Diepsloot - to board up her broken windows, she said.
My flat is finally looking vaguely under control and virtually all my boxes are unpacked. It feels pretty good, I have to say. I had a little birthday-come-housewarming gathering last night to celebrate. And my wormery arrived - yes, in the post! Despite my concerns, the worms did not go to worm heaven en route and are now speedily fattening themselves on my veggie peelings. Bring on the compost...
I've been to an art exhibit by a Nigerian collector in Parkhurst, hosted by a very elegant Zambian woman. And I've been beekeeping with the crazy French-Portuguese man and one of my botanist friends in a sprawling grove of blue gums in the grounds of a nuclear research station in Westonaria (yeah, I know, how bizarre does it get). We picnicked with white wine and quiche and argued considerably about gender relations, marriage, and nature versus nurture. I've experimented with a few yoga classes, sadly none of which I like. I've started one-to-one sessions with a trainer at the gym, and could barely walk this past week, needless to say. This morning I met this Polish immigrant woman with a great sense of humour who runs a ramshackle organic farm in Kyalami. I brought preserves and gem squash for eight rand a kilo. You can't really go wrong on that. Last but not least, I hired domestic labour for the first time two weeks ago -- not sure how I feel about it. The lady took some of my cardboard boxes back to Diepsloot - to board up her broken windows, she said.
My crate arrived, finally. They sent it on the back of a ridiculously oversize truck completely disproportionate to the crate - the kind of truck that's used to carry several tonnes of black granite across the Zimbabwean countryside. Anyway, this truck was so big that the complex guards wouldn't let it in. Fair enough, it probably wouldn't have rounded all the corners of the maze. So the truck had to park outside, and then we ferried boxes in my little car backwards and forwards. It was quite amusing. More amusing because whilst all this was going on, a small and shabby white van was parked downstairs from my flat with two cat-catchers in it. I kid you not. These guys go around catching cats which appear to be homeless, and sterilising them in a humane fashion.
I have been a firm supporter of Gumtree since arriving in South Africa: one washing machine, one fridge, one coffee table, one futon, two lamps, one disaster of a SatNav device, crockery...and one dining table with benches. The latter was quite a mission. I called up the man at the brickyard who sold me the dodgy SatNav to get a recommendation for a truck, praying that this time the truck would be smaller than the one which delivered the crate. Truck, driver and two accomplices duly followed me to the table owner's house. Loading and travel went fine; getting it up my stairs and inside the front door was a whole other story. It took all four of us to carry it, and I had to remind them that they couldn't just dump it on the bricks whenever they felt tired. Then it wouldn't fit through the door, so we had to take the coasters off (sixteen screws later). Anyway, it all worked out in the end and I am delighted to now have a nice big wooden table to eat and work on.
My flat is finally looking vaguely under control and virtually all my boxes are unpacked. It feels pretty good, I have to say. I had a little birthday-come-housewarming gathering last night to celebrate. And my wormery arrived - yes, in the post! Despite my concerns, the worms did not go to worm heaven en route and are now speedily fattening themselves on my veggie peelings. Bring on the compost...
Posts
