Apologies for the late post this week, but dreary weather and a dodgy stomach bug had me contemplating writing my will more so than a blog post. Unfortunately, the same rains that have cleared the air, returning my runny nose to standard operating procedure, have also kept me mostly trapped indoors. As a result, I present some random ruminations on life here. Here goes.
--Five South Africans walk down the middle of the road. That’s not a set up for a punchline, but rather the situation that regularly occurs when driving through the back streets of Parktown/Parkhurst. Around four or five, when all the domestic workers are walking home, driving morphs into a real life game of Frogger. Naturally, dirty looks are your reward for daring to attempt to use the road for its intended purpose. Why not use the sidewalk, people? It’s there for your walking pleasure!
--The security in Joburg, in addition to obscuring the beautiful architecture, mak
es finding an address a real pain. When we initially came to look at our apartment, we drove past the property several times. Mostly, you’ll catch a glimpse of a thatched or tiled roof peeking above the ubiquitous beige security wall. The lack of defining features causes many homes to have large address signs on their exterior walls, some more elaborate than others. The street layout in the area is mostly a Manhattan style numbered grid, making the address sign “61 Third Avenue” sound like a swank night club. Which would be clever, except every other home has a sign just like it.
--There’s a great steakhouse a couple of blocks away from us, but you’ll never see us walking up there after dark. This is more due to Marnie’s paranoia than any real security concerns, but she does have a point. Street lighting is nearly non-existent here, or at least non-functional. A Parkhurst residents association recently attached a balloon and “birthday card” to a light pole, having complained to the city that it was broken a year prior. When a reporter called the city for comment, they sent out a crew to repair the light. Good job boys, you only have an additional three hundred plus lights to repair in the area. Literally.
--It’s a good thing Marnie and I enjoy each other’s company, because we generally dine alone. Back home, an early dinner for us would be five thirty or six. The last couple of weeks you could hear our conversation echoing around the empty restaurant at seven. You would think being the only people in the restaurant would guarantee speedy and efficient service, but not so much. People have drinks earlier here (sundowners), then eat at eight or nine. While drinking and driving is the norm here, neither Marnie nor I have any desire to put our police bribery skills into practice, which usually means an early night. Party people, we are not.
--To wrap it up, congrats to Lizzy for adding to the ever growing nephew list with William Thaddeous, whom I have tentively nicknamed Thaddeous Maximus. Be comforted that when our little nephews Will, Jack and Colton are wailing inconsolably, they are only screaming for their cool Aunt Marnie and Uncle Dan in South Africa.
--Five South Africans walk down the middle of the road. That’s not a set up for a punchline, but rather the situation that regularly occurs when driving through the back streets of Parktown/Parkhurst. Around four or five, when all the domestic workers are walking home, driving morphs into a real life game of Frogger. Naturally, dirty looks are your reward for daring to attempt to use the road for its intended purpose. Why not use the sidewalk, people? It’s there for your walking pleasure!
--The security in Joburg, in addition to obscuring the beautiful architecture, mak
es finding an address a real pain. When we initially came to look at our apartment, we drove past the property several times. Mostly, you’ll catch a glimpse of a thatched or tiled roof peeking above the ubiquitous beige security wall. The lack of defining features causes many homes to have large address signs on their exterior walls, some more elaborate than others. The street layout in the area is mostly a Manhattan style numbered grid, making the address sign “61 Third Avenue” sound like a swank night club. Which would be clever, except every other home has a sign just like it.--There’s a great steakhouse a couple of blocks away from us, but you’ll never see us walking up there after dark. This is more due to Marnie’s paranoia than any real security concerns, but she does have a point. Street lighting is nearly non-existent here, or at least non-functional. A Parkhurst residents association recently attached a balloon and “birthday card” to a light pole, having complained to the city that it was broken a year prior. When a reporter called the city for comment, they sent out a crew to repair the light. Good job boys, you only have an additional three hundred plus lights to repair in the area. Literally.
--It’s a good thing Marnie and I enjoy each other’s company, because we generally dine alone. Back home, an early dinner for us would be five thirty or six. The last couple of weeks you could hear our conversation echoing around the empty restaurant at seven. You would think being the only people in the restaurant would guarantee speedy and efficient service, but not so much. People have drinks earlier here (sundowners), then eat at eight or nine. While drinking and driving is the norm here, neither Marnie nor I have any desire to put our police bribery skills into practice, which usually means an early night. Party people, we are not.
--To wrap it up, congrats to Lizzy for adding to the ever growing nephew list with William Thaddeous, whom I have tentively nicknamed Thaddeous Maximus. Be comforted that when our little nephews Will, Jack and Colton are wailing inconsolably, they are only screaming for their cool Aunt Marnie and Uncle Dan in South Africa.
No comments:
Post a Comment