Just to be clear, this is not a review, but in case you wanted to know what my thoughts were on the actual movie, absolute bollocks. Moving along….literally. I recently moved countries and continents for that matter with my brand spanking new hubby (check out his blog here)and it has certainly been an adjustment.
Moving from London to Cape Town was never in our plans, but here we are in sunny South Africa and I’m absolutely loving it. There’s something exciting about coming back home. All those “ordinary” things which I took for granted while growing up in Cape Town, somehow seem so shiny and new. Like waking up to the sight of Table Mountain outside my bedroom window, taking a 10 minute drive down to the beach after work and feeling the sand between my toes, enjoying the lovely fresh seafood down near the water’s edge, where it was probably only caught a few hours ago.
The adjustment from living in a 24 hour city, where everything works like clockwork is quite surreal. Moving back to Cape Town feels like slamming on the breaks and shifting into cruise control. The vast difference in climate, when moving from cloudy grey skies with intermittent rainfall to the sunny, sometimes windy and altogether warmer Cape climate, has also been a bit of a shock to the system.
It’s actually quite amusing how the same things that used to annoy me about my home town, is now what I appreciate the most. To name but a few: the lady down by the corner shop who wants to know who your mother is and always asks “aren’t you family of aunty so and so who lives in so and so, who was married to such and such?”; the lack of organisation in processing any sort of official paperwork (which sometimes works in your favour), the man at the market promising to give an excellent deal on that dress- “just because you’re such a pretty lady”, the maniacs we call taxi drivers and their accomplices (taxi guards) trying to squeeze into the non-existent lane in the middle of peak hour traffic and the woman at the supermarket checkout proceeding to telling you all about the amazing dishes she makes out of the same types of mushrooms that you are buying- “you should really try it you know”, she tells me.
I’m not completely ignorant of the issues that plague our country and I realise that their are still many areas which need dramatic improvement. But, I can say in all honesty, that despite the shortcomings of this colourful and friendly place I call home, it’s good to be back. In my experience I’ve found that sometimes you have to leave the things you love behind to truly appreciate it.
Some of you may have thought that I’d completely disappeared off the face of the earth, but alas, Google Latitude has found me. There’s no hiding from those sneaky satellites.
of holding hands and making plans,
of flying paper jets and watching sunsets.
I could write a sweet poem about our love,
of sunny days spent basking in the sunshine,
of cloudy days spent cuddling on the sofa.
I could write so many beautiful poems about our love,
but none of them would bring you any closer.
None of them would let you smell my hair or touch my hand.
None would let you breath my air, and I yours.
So instead, I tell you about my new shoes on the phone.
Instead of love poems I show you my new plant on Skype.
Instead, I DM you on Twitter to let you know that I still love you.
Instead of telling you about my day, I send you a quick text.
Instead I lay awake dreaming of someday and make plans for our uncertain future.
Because love poems don’t fill the space where you should be.
They don’t let you hold my hand or kiss my cheek.
Love poems don’t bring us any closer to where we belong…together.
|Source: Google Images|
After having a conversation with my sister over the weekend I was reminded yet again of the amazing things that come out of kids mouths. My 5 year old nephew is a prime example and constantly challenges my thinking with his blunt questions and his simple view of the world. I wonder sometimes when life became so complicated and when I stopped being a kid.
You see my little nephew is quite a little firecracker with loads of energy, just looking at him tires me out. He’s such a free spirit, constantly jumping off things, rolling over things, tumbling onto things, running into things and throwing things over. He’s also quite a smarty pants and constantly questions my logic.
I recall many interesting conversations while driving him to and from his swimming lessons on a Wednesday afternoon and they would normally go a little something like this:
Him: Do you know where you going?
Me: Yes, I know where I’m going.
Him: But how do you know, if you’ve never been there before?
Me: Because I looked it up on the map.
Him: Are you sure you know though?
Me: I think so, yes.
Him: I think you’re lost!
(You got me)
He questions everything and I love him for it, although it sometimes drives me insane and makes me blush with awkwardness. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s one of the reasons I cling to the childish bits that still remain in me. He reminds me that there is a certain innocence in youth, an innocence that allows for wonder and bewilderment. An innocence which doesn’t discriminate against stupid or obvious questions; which encourages you to jump, skip, hop and dive into the unknown, always knowing that there’ll be someone there to catch you or put a plaster on it if you should fall.
|Source: Google Images|
Today I laughed.
I laughed a good, hearty, belly ache laugh.
I laughed with all my heart and cried great big giant tears of laughter.
I laughed with so much joy, I felt as if the sun was streaming right through me.
Not because anything was particularly funny or because anyone cracked a joked.
Not because I discovered that I had become an overnight genius.
Not because I’m slightly mental and possibly a bit delirious.
Not because my life is perfect and all my needs are met.
I laughed because that’s what you do when you realise that life is unpredictable.
When it dawns upon you that no matter how well you may think you have this life figured out, it will always climb up on a tight rope, do a little twirl (just to show off) and then come graciously swinging down and hit you smack bang in the face with a great big thump.
I laughed because I’m human.
I laughed at my human disillusionment that things would go exactly according to plan, because I’d done the math, I’d seen the forecasts and according to my sources life was in fact a simple formula that could be mastered.
I laughed because life is consistent in it’s inconsistency and despite being constantly surprised by it, despite my fears and reservations, I’m happy to have this life. Happy to love and be loved, happy to experience the best of times and the worst of times, happy to laugh and cry, happy to wake up each day to a new surprise, whether good or bad.
Today I laughed. I laughed because it was all I could do.
I took a walk down Brick Lane today, with my heels clicking on the cobble stoned ground, as the faint sun shone down on my face. The lane as always, is a hub of activity and sensational aromas. Curry houses line the street on both sides, proudly displaying banners which are similar from one restaurant to the next. ‘Best Balti House 2010’ reads one; another says ‘Curry House of the Year 2011’; and yet another: ‘Restaurant of the year 2009’.
Clearly a marketing ploy to attract many naive foreigners, but hey who can blame them? This is after all Banglatown. Walking down Brick Lane feels like a completely different world in the middle of a very English city. There’s even touting outside of nearly every restaurant, trying to entice you into a meal in their fine establishment, while their competition across the way nudges you closer to his end of the lane.
The name is derived from the former brick and tile manufacturing that took place in the area, using local brick earth. At first the area was occupied by French Huguenots, who left their mark on many of the side streets in this area, such as Huguenot Place, where my office is situated. In the last century however, the area has been occupied by Bangladeshis.
It’s quite a popular hang out spot for trend setters, who spill over from the nearby “trendy” Shoreditch. Big hats with peacock feathers, red-dyed fur coats, thigh-high boots, purple hair and top hats are all the norm around these parts. On the weekends the lane turns into a street market, with street vendors, songstresses and Carrom Board games; providing a little ‘something’ for everyone.
The rich heritage of the area, combined with the quirky characters that hang out there and the smell of masala is what makes Brick Lane unique to me.
For the past month or so I’ve been having a lot of ‘what if moments’. Unemployed, in a different city, with only my savings to live off, I was starting to feel a little more than out of my depth and the gloomy weather wasn’t particularly helping the situation.
But in the space of a week, that all turned around. A short visit from my family gave me the pick-me-up I needed. Two job interviews later, I landed myself a job in communications, my three-week old cold finally packed up and left and the sun decided to come out in Trafalgar Square. In short, I got my mojo back.
Things don’t always happen just the way you want them to or when you want, but when they do, it’s always right on time! 🙂