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your latest dress in a failing attempt to look as good as Keira Knightly does in all of her ancient dresses...it's not outdated though.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!