In the first couple of months of leaving a small town to go off and spread your featherless wings, going BACK to that small town is pretty much like eating brussel sprouts dipped in chocolate - something to look forward to until you get stuck in. You run into classmates whose names you aren't too sure of and now feel obliged to inquire about their well-being, future dreams and grocery shopping trip. Your shampoo runs out and, with the exception of a few over-priced 24hour shops where you're bound to pick up a free living creature or two with every purchase, shops close at 7. I know right?!
And then there are conversations that go something like this:
Random person I've never spoken to in my life but who somehow knows my parents:
Ooooooooh! So you're in Caaaaape Town. You know! My cousin from Graaf Reinette's maid's pharmacist's daughter's ex-boyfriend, Gertjie, is aaalso studying at (some raaaaaaaaaaaaaaandom institution no one's eeeeeeeeeeeever heard of)..."
From this point forward, the conversation can go in a number of ways, begging one of the following responses:
1. No, we do not meet up for drinks very often.
2. No, we can't drive home together as Graaf Reinette is on the other side of SA
3. No, we can't share washing powder as he stays 30k's away in "the road with the many big houses"
4. No, I haven't met his parents yet. I think it would be better if I met him first.
5. No, I don't think I'd like a June wedding.
This is only one of the many "little things" I find endearing about Plattelanders. Most (not all, but many!!) have this image in their minds of a city as this slightly enlarged little town where everyone knows everyone and butterflies crap marshmallows. This is a LIE. The city IS amaaaazing - you DO meet lots of people, make lots of friends and eat lots of marshmallows. But no. There are no tribal gatherings in the clearing and no one sings kumbaja on the promenade. Except maybe a bergie or two.
Point is, I don't know your sister's mister's babysitter's cousin, your psychiatrist's dog's mother's owner's librarian or Gertjie. Living in the same city as Gertjie is like living on the same continent as Barack Obama. Or a fieldmouse names Zeek. But if I do have the misfortune to meet him/her/it someday, I will be sure to give them the rusks you sent along. :-)
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Pavement special
Two years ago I packed my suitcases - lots of 'em - and trekked across the great Sir Lowry's Pass, leaving the small town of Caledon (that's Caledon, not Canada) behind to make my mark in The Big City. 'Crossing over to the dark side' was the reaction etched on many a face when I'd announced: I'm going to Cape Town.
Hold on to your bag at all times, our neighbour advised. Don't walk outside after 3pm in the afternoon, the local grocer added. And most importantly, do not go ANYWHERE without pepper spray - there are rapists/muggers/serial killers/hijackers/taxi drivers behind every third - no, make that second lamppost, waiting to grab you by the ankle. And don't put that spray in your bag, Missy! No-ho! Keep it in your hand! Your fist! How else are you going to get to it when you get lost in one of those ridiculously oversized supermarkets and a rapist/mugger/serial killer/hijacker/tax driver attacks you in the fresh produce section?!
Needless to say, there are many misconceptions in small towns about The Big City. But the same goes for Cape Town: Americans might think lions roam the streets of Africa, but you'd be surprised how many Capetonians are under the impression that every little girl on the Platteland wears a kappie and that mothers boil bathwater in a rusty old kettle on the woodstove.
So, as a city-country pavement special, I am dedicating this blog to all Capetonians and Plattelanders, correcting some of the many misconceptions and stereotypes about the 'us' on this side of the mountain that have rooted themselves in the minds of 'the others' on that side. I'm sure we all have an adventure to share or a tip on surviving traffic, taxi drivers, crowds as well as surviving the lack of traffic, taxi drivers and crowds. So whether you're Capetonian, Plattelander or a mixed breed like me, let's all jump on this li'l bandwagon and make a few trips back-and-forth over Sir Lowry's Pass.
Oh, and yes City-slickers, we do have internet on the Platteland.
*Platteland = countryside; brimming with tiny towns with weird names you'll never hear on the news or weather. Blink and you miss 'em.
Hold on to your bag at all times, our neighbour advised. Don't walk outside after 3pm in the afternoon, the local grocer added. And most importantly, do not go ANYWHERE without pepper spray - there are rapists/muggers/serial killers/hijackers/taxi drivers behind every third - no, make that second lamppost, waiting to grab you by the ankle. And don't put that spray in your bag, Missy! No-ho! Keep it in your hand! Your fist! How else are you going to get to it when you get lost in one of those ridiculously oversized supermarkets and a rapist/mugger/serial killer/hijacker/tax driver attacks you in the fresh produce section?!
Needless to say, there are many misconceptions in small towns about The Big City. But the same goes for Cape Town: Americans might think lions roam the streets of Africa, but you'd be surprised how many Capetonians are under the impression that every little girl on the Platteland wears a kappie and that mothers boil bathwater in a rusty old kettle on the woodstove.
So, as a city-country pavement special, I am dedicating this blog to all Capetonians and Plattelanders, correcting some of the many misconceptions and stereotypes about the 'us' on this side of the mountain that have rooted themselves in the minds of 'the others' on that side. I'm sure we all have an adventure to share or a tip on surviving traffic, taxi drivers, crowds as well as surviving the lack of traffic, taxi drivers and crowds. So whether you're Capetonian, Plattelander or a mixed breed like me, let's all jump on this li'l bandwagon and make a few trips back-and-forth over Sir Lowry's Pass.
Oh, and yes City-slickers, we do have internet on the Platteland.
*Platteland = countryside; brimming with tiny towns with weird names you'll never hear on the news or weather. Blink and you miss 'em.
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