Summer-loving in the wintertime...

I haven't posted anything on here in about a week or so, but regular service should resume tomorrow. Or the next day, it's all very jet-lag dependent.

Came home from beautiful Cape Town today, you see.

Depressed is not even the word.

Miss the boy, miss the amazing friends, miss the weather, miss the atmosphere.

*looks sulkily out window at grey skies*

This lil' video is from a Capetonian band I love, whom you might know from their (unfortunate) collaboration with Shakira for the World Cup. But please, don't hold that against them, we all make mistakes, eh?! It's such a cute song, methinks. Plus, it's the only thing putting a smile on my face today. Right, I'm off to mooch around the house, eat copious amounts of biscuits and annoy my mother. Over and out amigos!

Down With The Kids.

At the start of next week, I will be celebrating surviving another year of my life. It may not sounds like that great of an achievement to you, but when one is as unlucky as me, you learn to be appreciative of this kinda shizz. I mean, I fell ass-over-tit on the street three times yesterday, in an admittedly spectacular display of perambulation failure.

The thing is, I'm kind of freaking out about this particular birthday. It's my 23rd celebration of this nature. I have very mixed feelings about this number. It just seems such an awkward one. It's like the sloppy-kiss-from-an-elderly-insane-aunt of ages. Nothing in your power can stop it from coming, but it just makes you feel a little bit pukey.

Anyway, with all this resting uneasily in my subconscious, and increasingly, in my conscious too, I somehow ended up on a double date last night. A double date with a guy I'd never clapped eyes on before. A guy who turned out to be about 18 and fresh out of the Ed Hardy Academy for Douchebaggery. *le sigh*.

In case you're wondering how this unfortunate scenario came about, my friend Laura had met this "really cool guy" during the World Cup, but he'd been away and they hadn't had a chance to meet up since. She casually threw in that he did have a "baby face" during our pre-date gallon of wine consumption (in preparation for the inevitable awkwardness and bad jokes). She clearly hadn't noticed in her World Cup beer-addled state that the kid finished primary school about 20 minutes ago, and I probably have more of a 'tache than he will for at least the next 10 years.

And my fancy man wasn't much better either. For starters, he was wearing a white and red Ed Hardy diamante studded belt. Now call me small minded, but I really don't think there's ever an appropriate social situation for a man to don diamante. Unless he's participating in Strictly Come Dancing or some such, in which case I don't think we'd be on a date in the first place, let's be honest. This creation was eye meltingly ugly. Strike One.

Be assured, however, the Little Belt of Horrors was nothing compared to the "fun" carding situation outside the bar, when our two Romeos had more than a little trouble proving they were of the legal age. It is not right that I felt like some kind of sugar momma at 22 years of age. When we finally got in, my beau demanded to see my ID, as part of the ritual "Who are you supposed to be?" conversation. This conversation is highly amusing when you are 16 and sneaking into nightclubs, to get trollied on two blue WKDs and spend the rest of the night having your best friend hold your hair back while you wail about how Gary who works in Spar (Gary being the pinnacle of romantic attainment because he has an electric blue Seat Ibiza with tinted windows) ignored you all night. It starts to wear itself out a little by the "ripe" old age of 22, however.

My man was disgusted. "Wow, you're old", he pronounced, feeling no need to sugar coat his horror at my geriatric state. I believed this was as bad as it could get. I was wrong. More wrong than Snooki heading up the UN, or Tom Cruise in general. I spent the rest of the night answering questions about post-college choices (choices they'll be making in 5 years, perhaps) and grinning along to jokes about my impending Alzheimers. Again, I'M 22 FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. This merriment continued until our two buckos had to head home at 1.30, because they were "wrecked from partying all weekend" (Read: Before Mom gets pissed). Just what I need to get Birthday Week* off to a good start. Must shuffle off now, time for a cup of Horlicks before my afternoon nap.

* Although I'm not entirely comfortable with acquisition of my twenty-third year, the attention whore in me prevents any chance of letting it pass quietly. Awkward age or not, you can be damn sure every man, woman, cat and dog in the city will know about the glorious day of my birth.

Oh great...

(Image from dawn.com)

Just came across this...

I mean you know he's coming straight for me, right.

Yes, I'm aware it's like a thousand kilometres away but you may not know my talent for attracting catastrophe.

Just another adventure in the life of The Girl With The Worst Luck Ever.

(Aside: How funny is it that I just Google image searched for "Woman being chased by Tiger", and all that came up for ages was pictures of a certain over amorous golfer..)

Go see table top mountain, in Cape Town...

1. If you’re looking for somewhere really different to rest your weary bones during your stay, look no further than the Airstream trailer park atop the Grand Daddy Hotel on Long St. Seven vintage Airstream trailers bid goodbye to the American Dream and have been lovingly restored to form a one of a kind camping area. Each trailer has been designed by a local artist – you can choose from “Pleasantville” for a touch of 50’s style kitsch or “The Ballad of John & Yoko” if the white look is more your thing. For those of you who love your creature comforts, the trailers are fully decked out with up to the minute facilities. There’s even a little US-style mailbox outside each caravan at your disposal. Too cute! Website here. This is my favourite, the Dorothy room...
2. 
3. Everyone knows about Royale Eatery on Long St (and if you don’t, be sure to check it out, their burgers and shakes are to die for! Really unusual pairings too - for example lamb burger with brie and mint jelly anyone?), but not a lot of people seem to know that they run a happy hour too. Perfect for the cash-conscious traveller, plus you may avoid having to queue for a table like you usually must at peak times. Happy Hour runs Monday to Thursday from 4–5:45, and the deal is a selection of four burgers (including at least one veggie option) is available at R30, plus a selection of bottled beers can be had for a mere R10. How could you resist!

2. 
   (Plus it has cute decor too!)

3. The idea of partying in a township may not appeal immediately, especially if you’ve never been to one before. However, Mzoli’s meat in Gugulethu will change all that. Arrive on a Saturday or Sunday around lunchtime (Sunday is usually the better day). Bring your own beers and salads. Choose your meat from the selection on offer and have the Mzoli’s staff braai (bbq) it for you in their homemade secret sauce. Simple, but amazing. You will never taste meat like this. If you can stand after such a feast, join the regulars and get down to some mellow house, played by local djs. Party till the small hours, dance on the tables, whatever. Great atmosphere, especially on a warm day. This is not the place to be a wallflower – mix it up, talk outside your circle, make new friends!

4. I firmly believe that if you travel to a new place, you should at least attempt to familiarise yourself with its history or culture along the way. Unfortunately, in the case of South Africa, the past is a bitter pill to swallow. If you are not entirely familiar with the culture of apartheid which oppressed so many for so long, then the District Six museum in the City Bowl is a good place to start learning. It focuses on the area from which government policies forced coloured people out of their homes and into informal settlements with little or no facilities or hope of improvement. Homes, schools, churches & livelihoods were destroyed as part of this enforced segregation, and today the area still remains barren while the government decides how best to use the space. A reminder to all of the hardships these people endured under such racist policies.

5. South Africans are an adventurous lot, and everyone you meet seems to have one outdoor hobby or another. I guess it’s easy in a country where the weather is so great and nature is on your side. If you fancy getting some of this outdoor action for yourself, try a sunset hike up Lion’s Head. Take a taxi to the summit and it’s a not-too-strenuous (unless you're me, see last post for details!) 45 minute hike from there. Sit atop the peak and watch the sun go down over Cape Town, with views of the city from all sides. Definitely bring your camera for this one. Some bring a picnic and indulge in wine and cheese over sunset. Best of all, it’s entirely free! Check for a full moon if you want the best light for the hike down, if not a torch is always a good idea.

6. For those travelling through Cape Town with their life on their backs, the Ashanti Lodge on Hoff St. is a good place for some budget R’n’R. Situated less than 10 minutes walk from all the action, it also has an unbeatable view of Table Mountain. I’m assured by reliable sources that it’s a fantastic place to watch the sun go down too. The gorgeous pool and friendly staff help add to the good vibes too, I guess.

7. Saturday mornings usually finds me either one of two ways; bleary-eyed and still harbouring traces of last night’s eyeliner, or bright as a button and eager for a “productive” weekend (unfortunately it’s the former that wins out more often than not). Either way, a trip to the Old Biscuit Mill in Woodstock usually sorts me out. Good food, albeit a little pricey, but it’s all local produce and for most things, freshly made in front of you. There’s a design market as well with young designers starting out, as well as vintage clothing stands, photography and art. As you might imagine from that brief synopsis, the place is overrun with hipsters. But don’t let the plaid shirts and carefully created “dishevelled” hairstyles put you off – It’s the best way to ease yourself into the weekend!

8. Tucked in at the back of Long Street Antique Arcade is an adorable little vintage shop, Glitterati. It’s incredibly tiny, but a veritable Aladdin’s Cave of gorgeous goodies. The shop looks like it could be a movie star’s dressing up room. You certainly will have to root a round a bit, but the search is always worth it for some precious finds in this case.

9. Your Lonely Planet would probably tell you to hit up Hemisphere for a great night out in Cape Town. I’d tell you to go for ten minutes and only for the view. Being on the top floor of the ABSA skyscraper makes for an impressive sight come sundown. However, the club itself isn’t up to much unless tacky music and overpriced drinks is your thing (this is also true of Cape to Cuba). A much cooler hang out is the granny-chic Waiting Room. Situated up a tiny rickety stairs, which you enter through a non-descript door on Long St, this place reeks of atmosphere. The rooftop terrace lets you check out where the action is that night, and comfy couches strewn about make for relaxing drinks with mates.

10. Cape Town works at a fast pace, and after a while the hedonism gets a bit much (i.e. I can’t close my jeans so realise it may be time to cut back a bit). A great place to unwind and feel better is at Long Street Baths. Here, you can choose between a sauna, a steam room, a cold pool or a warm room, in addition to showers and all the usual malarkey. The price is pretty reasonable at R75 for up to four hours or R37.50 per hour. For this you’ll get a day bed, a towel and some soap as well as admission. I know they used to offer massages as well, but apparently these are off the cards now. However, the baths have different operating hours for men & women (check web for exact times), so this may not be best for a romantic holiday!

(Photo by Art Harris)

When I get off of this mountain, you know where I'm gonna go...

Somehow got myself talked into hiking up Lion's Head here in CPT yesterday, hence the lack of posting. The sun was out, I was in a good mood, there was talk of sunsets and wine and it all seemed like it was going to be wonderful.

It was not. No siree.

If you knew me, you would know that the only physical activity I do on a regular basis involves wine glass or cigarette to mouth. I must have entered into a Twilight Zone of insanity for the 30 seconds or so that I pondered the offer and said yes. Seriously, it hurts just moving the laptop around on my lap. Crawled into work today but manage to hobble back home around lunchtime. I have never felt so stiff in my life.

And I live with a bunch of North Face jacket wearing, activity keeners, "No I won't have another one, have my 5am bikram class tomorrow" kind of bunch, so no sympathy chez Murzipan for the GUT-WRENCHING AGONY I am in. Am just going to feebly wriggle around on the couch and moan a little until someone feels sympathetic/irritated enough to bring me a nice cup of raspberry tea.

And shut it, I am not being melodramatic. Not one bit.

Having said all that, it was beautiful to be up there for sunset and see the whole city spread out. I just wish I'd realised we'd be hiking down in the quickly-diminishing light afterwards. See what it was like for yourself in this gorgeous photo my friend Lauren found...I wish I knew who took it, it certainly leaves my photography "skills" (which extend to fuzzy zoom and trying to keep my thumb out of shot) trailing in the dust..

Held behind four walls all through night and day...

Didn't get a chance to blog yesterday at all, was out and about enjoying the festivities for Mandela Day here in Cape Town. It's supposed to be winter here but yesterday was a total scorcher! Loving this cover shot from the May 2010 issue of Spanish Esquire. Happy (belated) birthday Madiba!

You paved the way, believe it...

So I'm living in Cape Town at the moment, have been since April. One clear benefit of this was I got the chance to be present during the FIFA World Cup, which ended on Sunday. Before we go any further, be under no illusion that I have any clue about soccer. Most of my "knowledge" comes from memorising certain sentences gleaned from my more-soccer-clued-in friends (basically everyone I know), and throwing them out at what seems the appropriate point in a conversation. For example, a particular favourite of mine after the Brazil v. Portugal game was "Can't believe Ronaldo got the man of the match. No. 23 was by far the better player - he dominated that end of the pitch in the first half." A risky undertaking you may think, especially since you could write what I know about "the footy" on the back of a stamp and still have room for the month's grocery list, but so far it's worked out pretty well for me.

Despite my clear lack of soccer knowledge, and the truth is that I spent a lot of matches playing "Who would you rather?" with my girlfriends (Focusing on balls of a different nature I guess!), I'm still pretty bummed that it's over. The atmosphere here for the past month has been amazing, and it's thrilling that the whole thing went off without a hitch. Watched the final in a Dutch pub here in CPT on Sunday, and even though they lost, it was one of the best nights of my life! Here's to Brazil 2014...and I'm gonna make it a life goal to even know what the offside rule is by then!

P.S. Even though I loved the Cup, I won't exactly be crying if I never hear that "Waka Waka" pig's ear of a song again. So many original artists here and they pick a Colombian. No offence Shakira, but you can just "waka waka" your way out of my life this second.