Day Forty

The last......night. Ever.

A summary, of the dressness:

There was a blonde lass, named Jess

Who decided to wear a black dress

She belted, she booted

She tucked and uprooted

And proved that more really is less.

She tackled the issues

Of bike riding (and its misuse)

Of crashing and flying

down the hill and hence buying

introductions to jocks with their pitying tissues.

To live bands, performers,

to St Paddy's and the Stormers

the dress danced and it sang

it screamed war-cries and ran

past drunkards and celebrities and all their adorers.

Now it is torn, it is singed, it is bust

And repairs they need doing, it's a serious must

So that the dresses can be sold or donated maybe

To help those without clothes, to accept graciously

The dress about which we have over 40 days fussed.

So fare thee well, adieu, God bless

And just before closing allow me to confess

That wearing this dress has changed my style complete

And a new person, a new style, will my old self defeat

So prepare for a shocker, oh Cape Town oh yes!

And smile now that you will have, from the Little Black Lent Dress, a rest.

A farewell to LBLDness at Enrico's on Keurbooms beach.

  The dress itself.

 All of us, in black dresses, supporting the last night of dressness.

 Keurbooms beach.

Lastly....to leave you with a great feeling:

What better mood to leave you in than from Streetlight Manifesto's "Forty Days"?!

Thank you....and goodbye.

Day Thirty Five

Breathe in.

This is something you would often hear if you were a young lass way back in the Victorian era when you were being corsetted into your latest dress in a failing attempt to look as good as Keira Knightly does in all of her ancient dresses...it's not outdated though.

These days, girls are still squeezing and squishing and pushing and prodding themselves into the latest beaut of their wardrobe...YDE was having a R75 sale and they only had a SS ok, and I know I'm normally a M but these  jeans will fit fine! Well...I'm sure that happens...because when I get to those YDE R75 sales all that's left are the XL's and I fall to the other extreme. I'm sure a belt will keep these up just fine and so what if they don't fit on my bum, they're only beach shorts!


My question is...why does sone say "breathe in"?


Surely they should say...breathe out?


Quick experiment...if you're not like me, when you breathe air in, you swell up like a balloon because of all that air, and when you breathe out you shrivel up and become a whole lot less taut.

So who let the dyslexic person make me grow up with this silly notion?


Ps. I don't know why, but this reminds me of The Coolest interactive video of the song "We Used To Wait"- Arcade Fire. Try it out! http://www.thewildernessdowntown.com/

Day Thirty

I saw this giant poster and cringed. 

My family from Jo'burg suggested we go to Theatre Sports, and even they looked horrified.

Luckily we were an hour early, so we had an hour in Kalk (pronounced 'Cork' for fear of shunnerage from locals...) Bay during which we could all pull ourselves together and man up, over coffee at Tribecca and window shopping, of course!

The Kalk Bay Theatre is really cool! It has big wooden chairs with armrests and comfy cushions. That we were forced to sit in the front row made the chairs no less comfy but I don't think anyone, save my cousin Meg, was comfortable...we were all strategizing which door would be best to slip out of, and that a cough would signal the need for us to leave.

Well weren't we surprised?! We laughed and cried and voted and interacted, and normally I hate interacting in these sort of things. We shouted things like: "STOP in the name of fluff!" and other appropriate things and changed our scores from '1, 2, 3, 4, 5' into acronyms like 'HI' and 'EISH'!

It was an hour and a half long, and we were sad when it was over.

R40 for students (and R50 for non-students) is the best money you'll spend on a Tuesday night. Gather a group and go- you won't be disappointed!

Day Twenty-Eight

Gluten (baby!)

          Soy sauce on sushi and pizzas all crispy

          sweet chilli sauce on burgers and beer to make you tipsy

          spaghetti with bolognaise as ribbons and strings

          these are were a few of my favourite things...

Well.

Here’s the thing....I’m gluten intolerant.

It’s quite a show, really...

 Before, and yes, on a side note, that is my arm bandaged up from my bicycle..

I eat (or drink) something that I don’t know has gluten in or has touched gluten (bread, pasta, pastries, pudding, yoghurt, sauces, some cheese, barley, malt, thickening agent, flavourants...)

and I bloat.

And bloat.

And bloat.

And bloat.

 And bloat.

Attack of the gluten monster.

I become Gluten Pregnant with a Gluten Baby within 10 minutes of having the stuff...and have to wait until the next day to become unglutenised.

I get headaches and stomaches and cramps and nausea.

But it’s quite entertaining.

Take a look-see for yourself!

Day Twenty-Five

Noordhoek.

It’s a place I’ve gone to ever since I was tiny. The house is a cabin, it’s wooden, it’s in a forest, and a four minute roll down the hill to a 4km stretch of wild beach. There are rough-skinned boulders and smelly kelp pieces and children and surfers and horses.

It’s great.

So when my Aunt, Uncle and cuzzies came down, a trip to Noordhoek was inevitable. We arrived after fish and chips at the Kalk Bay harbour, eaten out of the packets and with no forks (let alone tomato sauce). There were fishermen everywhere and waves crashing over and children sleeping in cars and hooks flying and fish beaten on rocks. It was so Cape Town.

So after that and I stop at the garage for coffee and ice creams, we arrived home. Into bed only to be woken up in the morning by the streaming-in-through-the-window-sun made me excited for the work-filled day.

This day...was a beautiful day. The sun was sunny, the surfers were surfing, and the dogs were fetching.

We all went down to the beach, at which I pulled out my hefty textbooks and read for hours on the effectiveness of rhyme. And structure. In poems. It was interesting, but the swimmers were making me jealous...

We had braai, ate to the bursting, a quick snooze and back to the beach.

 The evening was still as busy but with the masses now sitting on rocks with drums and guitars and singing Youth Group songs. Every body huddled on rocks and soaked in the last warmth of the sun.

How spoilt these Capetonians are...

Day Twenty-Three

Americans...and their latest stereotype.

Ohkay, so I know that stereotypes are bad, but when you see two Americans in basketball shorts, vests, takkies and glasses and talking loudly on the Jammie next to you, you sort of have to eavesdrop.  And it’s not that hard to, when there’s no one else talking around you.

So I found out some fascinating stuff...about...

Coke.

Coke is the most recognised brand in the world, did you know? A survey in 2007 put it at number one with Mc Donalds taking ninth place.

So you would expect it to be pretty universal, right? Not so, apparently.

According to the Yanks, the “soda” (Coke) tastes better in good old SA than in America. And they have their reasons. They say this is because here in SA we use sugar in our fizzy drinks where as in America they use corn syrup (cheaper)...

And this is why the one American drinks a Coke every day...

Day Twenty-One

One Day Without Shoes.

One day without shoes?

One whole day, without shoes.

Tried it? Been there? Done that? For most, it's un-thought of. For some, it's something you do at campus because, after all, it is campus.

For others, it's a reality. For many people out there shoes are a luxury....and one that they can't afford to experience.

So today was to raise awareness of this and to donate shoes to charities. And I took my stand (at varsity).

Literally.

Cycled to it barefoot and met bare-footed friends with a barefoot mentality. We dodged squished grapes and bits of egg, hopped over the hot spots and avoided the wet water squirts from playful friends.

So it was easy enough.....until.

Until my roomie stubbed her toe on the way home so badly that it bled. And then on my way home (by bike) my hat started blowing off as I went down the hill, so I grabbed at it, lost my balance, squeezed at the front brake urgently and went crashing down the hill. So my whole right side is pretty messed up.

Those are just two co-incidences resulting from one day of no shoes.

Think of all of those who face this every day when looking to spend a good R30 at Ackermans...

Day Twenty

Good jungle gyms....are hard to find.

Great ones, even more so.

Today, while in Hout Bay for breakfast with Annetjie and the Buckham boys, I came across one.

The nursery on the right as you drive on your way into Hout Bay from Constantia Neck has a restaurant. And this jungle gym.

Check it out!

Day Nineteen

Hair pins and kites. 

It's autumn officially. Did you know? No? Well that's an obvious sign that you haven't been walking Cape Town's streets then! Oaks yellow yield a crunchedy crunch as you satisfyingly stamp through the gutter. Or, should you be an overcautious freak, you brandish your pepper spray as they blow like a scuffing of feet behind you.

And the squirrels are going mad. It's as though someone told them only yesterday that soon there will be no more acorns. They scamper and scurry and rustle in bushes. They fight and they argue; one pulls one pushes. But I'm not supposed to be waffling on about nothing, There is a purpose in all this jibber jabber and that purpose is hair pins.

And kites.

My hair, as many of you may or may not know, is at length awkward. My fringe is poking at my eyes and seems to be longest at the bridge of my nose, and my ends flick outwards, which was super cute.... in Grade Seven and even then it was borderline.

So what do I do?

What else when people are growing out their hair but tie it up! And so I own a handful of hair pins and I force the little strands to act long as I bun it and pony tail it and force it into longness.

My question today is, does everyone put hair pins in in one direction only? Like hair piece X, Y and Z are always pinned with the closed end on the right? And does it feel impossible to pin them the other way?

Or is this another prank that my lefthandedness is playing on me?

Also...kites. (Researched them for an essay due...) They used to use kites in war and in scientific experiments. In 1903 a boat even sailed from England to America powered by kites! And one last did you know: Alexander Bell, the telephone and gramophone scientist dude died from a kite accident? You see...he designed tetrahedral shaped kites and wheel-shaped kites, even hexagonal ones...and he tested his own kites.

Pity.

But how cool? Here's one of his wheel kites below!

Day Eighteen

Yesterday my alarm rang sickeningly early: 5:30. After all, what sort of a holiday is complete without an early wake up call? This was my second and was a warning that the bus from Langebaan was about to leave. (I am aware that I just compromised my secret spot. Heads up!)

So I bundled up, boots on, dress on, jersey on, and pillow out- I was armed for all things roadtrip. The trip was so bumpy and freezing-from-the-air-con-cold that there was nothing to do but try to sleep. You can imagine how starving and exhausted I was when we eventually arrived at the Cape Town Station...

I had hoped for a welcoming granny, with arms opened wide into which I could collapse, whom I could go for coffee with and even maybe to the National Gallery.

Instead...it was me and my bags versus the world. I trudged up Long Street with my three heavy bags and a laptop, trying in vain to reach her on the multiple phones and in the mean time setting my destination on The Royale Eatery, home to the world's best milkshakes. 

Who knew they only opened at 12?And that it was only nearly ten...

Eventually, while leaning on the shut door of the Royale Eatery I got a hold of the granny and trudged further to the Gallery. It was closed.

When it eventually opened I hobbled in- knowing that I would be rewarded greatly for my effortful morning.

But alas...

Photography.

Now I like photography, but not over art. So that was another dip in my mood.

The photographer whose work was on exhibition is pretty cool though. He's an American called Roger Ballen.

Most of his work is so freaky that I do not like it.

But...But. There are a handful of works which give me the shivers of brilliance. They really are awesome.

They're the sort of works you download to your phone and put as your wallpaper (purely hypothetical...I swear). So here they are, I hope they inspire you as much as they did me.

They really turned my bad day around!

Day Seventeen

I can't be bothered with tabloids and gossip on celebrities.

Ask anyone: when describing a movie to me, friends say you know the girl from this movie and the guy from that movie? Well they're both in this other movie, called this. 

Then I get it. 

Names of people I'll never know are something I'll never quite grasp...

Except a few. These are the few (I googled their names, I'll have you know. Serena Van Der Woodsen didn't have a name until a couple of minutes ago...) that remind me of my friends.

A side note. Friends...I'm not listing your names, you will only be known as doppelgangers because of the aforementioned stalker-ship. I do hope you all take this in the warmest of love!

 From Gossip Girl. Blake Lively (top) and her doppelganger . 

                            From Glee: Chris Colfer (below) and his not-gay doppelganger .

From "Love Story"-Taylor Swift (below) and doppelganger .

From 127 Hours James Franco (below) and Doppelganger.

Weird weird weird. 


So what's bugging you today?!

Day Sixteen

What not to do:

Do: the grocery shopping

Do: Make supper and do the washing up when staying at someone's house.

Do: Put the left overs in the fridge.

Don't:

plus

Because it equals:

Ohkay. Now that is an exaggeration. But it does melt. And melting plastic onto your friend's stove is a big don't.
A normal person would admit it. And apologise...I, however, am not normal.


So google came to the aid and the next day when my friend was at work I found the solution! So here's the Do's to getting plastic off of stoves, for those of you who ingeniously decide to make the same mistake:

Do: Wait for the stove to cool.
Do not: Try to scrub at it with a sponge and a mixture of Jik and Handy Andy while the plate is still hot. It just will burn your fingers.
Do: Take a knife to the stove top and hack at the plastic.

Do not: use a non-serrated knife like the one shown above.
Do: put the stove on full heat.
Do not: forget to put the extractor fan on and open the windows and doors.

And most importantly.. 
Do not: forget to get a new container to replace the one with holes in the bottom! (Task of the day!)


Ps. Do not: let that friend get a hold of your blog address. 
Ever.

Day Fifteen

HOLIDAY time!

Holiday- Vampire Weekend

Yes folks, it's that time of year..bags have been packed, camera's dusted off and bikinis shaken out for our week of non-schooldom! Everyone went home for the first time this year and as for me? I have not.

Instead I have been invited to A Secret Destination (I don't want you all flooding here once you see these pic-a-tures) to stay with a friend. (Also a secret. Just because.)

And I'm loving it here.

Here the weather is sunny, the people are Afrikaans, and friendly. It is a beach town. It is full of amazing isolated beaches with warm(ish) swimable(ish) water and coarse, pedicure-yielding sand. As an Afrikaans town it bursts with cool things kitsch like this giant seagull statue.

Or a "Lekker By Die See" restaurant. Or a mermaid statue. Or a scary "just a joke" we'll-shoot-you-if-you-park-on-the-grass sign. I could carry on, but it's a place you have to experience first hand to understand it in all its splendour.

I went shopping this morning and made friends with the veggie unpacker called Arne. He told me to make stir-fry veg for supper tonight. I did. 

I went to the art shop and got my sketchbook, some new pens, and directions to the beach. I did not make friends with the security guard who didn't want me walking through the boom. (I walked through anyway.) I made friends with the gardener who asked me how I was doing and the old man who asked if my feet were hot (I had actually just stood on my 10th thorn) when I was walking back on the tar from my swim.

I toured the harbour, looking at all the boats which I always do when my mum and I go to the harbour. I chose my favourite boat, also essential. I walked and balanced on the pier on which three fishermen with caps donned over their reddening necks were sitting. I then went on to the beach. There, I scrambled and clambered over the boulders and beach hopped, until I found a rock so gigantic and so smooth, that I had to sit on it. I drew for a while and listened to music. 

"Roll Away Your Stone"- Mumford and Sons came on my iPod (it happens to be my most favourite song) and I waded further in to the water. When the water was up to my knickers I realised that I needed to swim-without my iPod and Ray Bans. So I did. The beach was isolated, thankfully...

This evening we had gourmet burgers and wine while looking out onto the sea (metaphorically, we actually just looked into the building construction in front of the sea view...)

What a good day!

Day Fourteen

Due to yesterday’s coldness, I left nothing to chance as I got ready for the second round of autumn. Early morning chills found me wearing my cosy hoodie around my room, and I wished I could have worn it to campus. I couldn’t have, of course. The hoodie simply does not go with the dress and that marks the end of my attempt of bringing it into my outfit of the day.

Instead I pushed and prodded and customised until my dress was a bubble top, being tucked into my jeggings, and I had boots and a jersey to keep the chills out. As I was checking my emails from various blogs to which I have subscribes on the bus, a muslim guy sat down on the seat next to me. 


Curious about everything as I am, I gave him (or his outfit, more specifically) a quick once over: a black thobe (Muslim traditional dress), jeans, a khaki Billabong zip up hoodie and a white taqiyah (which is the traditional Muslim hat).

Obviously he also felt it was cold and had not suffered the same disagreement with The Hoodie And The Black Dress as I had. But it made me realise that being Muslim adds serious complications in clothing choice while still agreeing with religious beliefs.

So I googled it.

Sarah Elenany is a fashion designer. She designs clothes that both agree with the correct Muslim religious conducts (such as the concealing of certain body parts) and agree with fashion. Her label, Elenany, is designed for everyone. This is not a religion-only range and its urban chic-ness provides ample reason for anyone to wear designs from this innovative designer.

What do you think?

(For more info go to www.elenany.co.uk)

Day Thirteen

Yesterday, being the first varsity day after the long weekend, combined with The-First-Cold-Day-of-the-Year saw UCT with fewerthanusual students.

Those of us determined to max out on our First Day of Winter Wear could be found queueing for a R7 large coffee from Campus Coffee or at its rival, Souper Sandwich, for R10 large chai.

People having a free clumsilyclustered on the signature Jammie stairs while those changing class briskly walked all with a miserably happy expression poking out from under beanies and hoods and umbrellas.

Boots were polished, dust had been beaten from coats and mittens quickly knitted. Had pockets been picked, packets of tissues would've been found. What else illustrates autumn but suddensickness?

In a vain attempt at keeping warm and fitting into those still-folded-in-the-top-of-my-cupboard-until-lent's-over jeggings, I decided to brace the sweatsoaked varsity gym.

Coming as a transfer from the University of Pretoria, this gym shocked me. Not a modified classroom, UCT's gym boasts an air conditioning system, not a handful of AIM fans, has seven working treadmills over four and has machines that are definitelynot from the 80's,(not to mention a studio in place of two 2by5m corridors!) You would surely think UCT would then charge more than Pretoria? Surprisingly not, with Pretoria at R90 poer month and UCT's for just R450 for the year.

But that's not my point. Art is. UCT is known for its wide collection of art works, and this extends as far as the gym. Five artworks are displayed in the gym. Now I have no idea what the efffect of heat and sweat have on art, further than an art piece of Humpty Dumpty which my, then age 2, sister at the age had drawn. It hung in our bathroom for a number of years until so much fungi had formed from the mildew that it had to be chucked away...

Now I know that gym doesn't create heat like that from a shower or a bath, but surely in 20 years or so these works of art will be ruined? My question is whether it's worth it: temporary beauty which later leads to destruction?

I guess that question relates not only to artworks but also anorexia, botox, tattoos, plastic surgery... Or are they artworks in themselves?

Have a warm day!

Day Twelve

Last night saw me adding another category of non-dress wearing to my category. Yes, you definitely did not guess it, but I have officially started work! So now it leaves me as a clothesmortal in pyjamas, exercising clothes AND work clothes. So now that I'm a working girl, I have more money to spend on not-clothes. 
Love-er-ly.

But yesterday morning is my focus of this page.

I have started helping out at my church's youth group, or "Children's Church" as they ridiculously renamed Sunday School. And it was my first lessonthing.

What on earth do you speak about to a handful (yes, only a handful) of "teens" from 12-20??
I was definitely not the "cool" person there. But my message had to be cool.

So I spent Saturday night trying to be cool.

And I decided to speak about the messages of God in cool bands. Like U2. And Bruno Mars. Adele. Mumford and Sons. The Fray. Bob Dylan...

I focussed on U2's song, 40, which is an interpretation of Psalm 40.

And then Bluetoothed and swindled my way into their cellphones (and hearts) and sent them coolsongs. They had to listen to them and tell everyone later what their song meant.

 This suddenly, like a string to a helium balloon, grounded me. It made me realise that I take meaning from some songs, and ignore the meaning of others. I take The Fray's "You Found Me" quite literally, without even a second thought on the matter. Where as Mumford and Sons' "Roll Away Your Stone" deserves a whole thesis, in my eyes. I feel so stupidly unconscious towards all meanings that I, from hereonout, will take more time to give a thought at what an artist could possibly mean. And what that song means to me.

Teaching really is the only way to learn.

Day Eleven

Today is about to turn into tomorrow and I have accumulated enough zombieness these past few days to stop caring.

Saturday saw our bright and eagerlystarving tummies to The Old Biscuit Mill's Neighbourhood Goods Market. Pity it was on the hottest day of Cape Town's year! I have never felt it necessary to buy two smoothies and an ice lollie is the space of one hour before..... now I can tick that one off the list at least!

In the evening we had full intentions of going to watch an amaaaaazing South African band, Die Heuwels Fantasties, in the Company Gardens in town before the Long Street Carnival, celebrating Human Right's Day.

Heat was our time slower so we came late but just in time for candyfloss in the park! (And of course, to watch two friends embrace....and midway both of them standing in steaming horsemanure which the great-sense-of-humour police horses had left behind.)

At the parade you couldn't walk without bumping into prams and camping chairs and old granny's perms and dreadlocks. The coolthing about the parade was the animals (like the dino below...) They were giant and worn by puppeteers and moved amazingly. With a coolresemblance to Headwig, and owl flew up and down the streets, but the crowd were taken away by the ostrich races, for which two men were made into the ostrich puppet. Everyone went beserk!

(Speaking of Dinosaurs, a side note, with a side link and a YouTube buffering to Dinosaur- Jax Panik. He was playing at the concert we missed. He, coincidently, also puts his name to this song, the song for which my sister has been MK drooling for days, just to hear it. I hope that while we're sitting here at Cocoa Wah Wah she'll use her 40 free megabytes and listen to it to end her maddening tvtakeover.)

It was sweating with capacity.

 Luckily we all decided to have a drink at a nearby hotel and left pretty early.

Nevertheless, the spectators became the mob. We were driving (just us girls in a soft-roofed BMW) through bumpertobumper traffic past the crowds. Suddenly a group of guys came to the car and were knocking on our windows and trying to open the doors and roof. So really, we had lavish living, carnivalattending and adrenaline pumping all in one night. All in all, perfect blogging material.

Our quirky night ended with having drinks with friends at Forries and then a scramble of writing my lesson for childrenschurch the next morning!