This time of year in South Africa is packed full of public holidays. Human Rights Day, Good Friday, “Family Day” (eg. the day after Easter), Freedom Day and Worker’s Day. All in March/April/May. So I took full advantage, and exercised my Human Right to take an extra day off and make up a long weekend.
And it was crazy. The good kind of crazy, for the most part, that kind that makes you feel I am living.
After work I drove through to Bergvliet (in peak traffic, mind you – I had completely forgotten how hellish the drive back to the burbs was) to join Bryony and her hubby at a run/walk in aid of The Chaeli Campaign. It kicked off at the Bergvliet Sports Club, which springs some interesting, neon-related memories to mind (and it also made me realise that I may have been drunker than I thought that night… Seeing as I walked into the ladies’ bathroom on Wednesday and had that overwhelming feeling of What is this place? Still. It remains one of my favourite nights. Ever.)
Anyway, we decided to skip the run and did the 4km walk instead, ’cause we had B’s dogs with us. And after, it was beer and a boerewors roll, before heading back to B’s for dinner. From there, I did a quick-change in her bathroom (I still cringe whenever I go in there, remembering my Epic Drunk Dial escapade. Oh, lordy) and headed out to a friend’s birthday drinks in Woodstock. Jess was well into the shots by the time we arrived, and I braved chocolate tequila and caramel vodka in the name of being a Good Friend.
And then, I managed to drop my R1200 glasses off the balcony. And all in the name of vanity. You see, somebody wandered up to the group that was hanging out on the balcony and wanted to take a picture. So I pushed my glasses on top of my head – with rather more vigour than anticipated – and felt them slide over the back of my head. I turned just in time to hear them crash to the floor a storey below, into the parking lot.
Of course, because I can’t actually see without the damn things, I ran around the flat shouting “I need someone with eyesight! I need someone with eyesight!” Thankfully, I managed to find Christie (who has contact lenses) and we dashed downstairs. We found the frames quickly enough – sans one lens – and I was crawling around on my hands and knees in the parking lot, praying to the God of Optometry (he is a very cruel, greedy god) that the other lens was in one piece. It was. And I did a shrieky, giggly little jig out there in the parking lot. Hey, I never pretended to be cool. Christie managed to pop the lens back in and voila, the party continued.
We were all meant to head out to a place in town, but after scoping out the 200-odd people in the queue, changed our minds. Jay had volunteered to drive with me in my car and we drove down Long Street, stuck in traffic, with me getting him to hack Ingress portals on my phone while I drove. Like I said, no cool kids here. We eventually found out that Jess and company were at an ultra-dodgy dive on Long Street, but one look at her in the bathroom when we arrived and I knew it was time to get her out of there. And so I volunteered to drive her and her boyfriend home to Constantia, some 20 minutes away. Nobody objected, but nobody else jumped up to help either.
And because I was too wired after that, I drove home the ultra long way round… Around Camp’s Bay, taking in the lights and revelling in late night Cape Town. I’d had a long talk with Jess’ boyfriend in the car, and it actually opened up my eyes a little – in a very painful way, but it needed to be heard. And that was Wednesday.
Thursday I went to go see Quartet with Cait – was lovely just to bond, and it was quite a lovely cast and quite a lovely film, but not quite satisfactory. (Ack! Bad, Candace, bad! No mini-movie reviews, you’re on leave… ish!)
Friday, it was off to my first ever sunset show at Kirstenbosch Gardens. Stefan had texted in the morning with the offer of tickets for the Farryl Purkiss/Jeremy Loops/Xavier Rudd gig, so I reckoned heck yes. And it was stunning, and surprisingly healing… Although maybe that’s because we also had some major bitch-bonding time. The hippies were out in full force and the chilly wind brought a pretty heady smell of pot wafting over regularly. But it was an amazing show and a beautiful setting – and I’d definitely do it again. (Although ultra-top-tip: Definitely leave a few minutes before the set ends. You can hear the music for ages AND you don’t get stuck in the heaving crowds. Win!)
Saturday I got a severe case of the Sads. I was meant to go film for work and got out to the location, then called it off. I was meant to go to the Biscuit Mill with Bryony, but she took a while to text and I could feel myself wanting to curl up into a teeny, tiny little ball and just go to sleep. Instead, Xanthe texted. Beer. Forries. Now. So I did – and beer turned into lunch and an awesome chill out with some great friends. Bryony eventually did text, and I of course immediately felt guilty for sorta bailing on her… If anybody would like to start work on a Time-Turner a la Harry Potter, that’d be good.
I then had to drive Sean out to Bergvliet for a beer pong tournament (true story) and raced back to get home in time before they started closing all the roads for the Bafana Bafana game. Now, living in Green Point is amazing. Seriously. But every time somebody wants to stage an event, they’re all like “Hey! Green Point is like, totes the place to do it.” I’m not kidding. This week, the roads were closed for soccer. Last week, for the “Cape Town Carnival” (Hiss. It made me miss Iain’s housewarming. Okay, well, Carnival and Xanthe & Timmy’s engagement. But, you know). The week before that? The Cape Argus. And the week before that? Pride. Madness, I tell you.
And then, because I am the World’s Best Sister, I drove out to pick him up at 12.30am again. It’s all good though, after Jay I know that road pretty much backwards, so hecking out there at that time of night is a piece of the proverbial cake.
And now it’s Sunday. Cait decided we should all go hiking this morning – fair enough. We mapped out a route to Tranquility Cracks, but none of us had counted on the wind. It started out well enough…
But as we turned the corner into Corridor and got further up the ravine, we were nearly blown off the mountain. No, seriously. I was holding onto a rock, being buffeted backwards, completely astounded by the sheer stupidity of it all. After a hasty mid-hike conference, sanity prevailed, and we scuttled back down. We tried to warn other hikers (seriously, actual “gale force winds” is an effing safety hazard, people), and you’d be surprised at how few listened. Sure, you probably do this all the time, but all it takes is one gust of wind and a mis-step. It’s a long tumble back down to Camp’s Bay, people.
Anyway, we took the scenic, less fatal route back down.
Anyway, I shall stop thrilling you with my weekend tales. I do, however, have a point to all of this.
Time with the people you love is one of the best reminders that you mean something. No matter how dull a grey the world is.
Also, choose plastic lenses.