14 November 2009
One week left. How did that happen? This time next Saturday and I’ll be working on my way across the ocean. Bummer.
Every Saturday in town, the Old Biscuit Mill has a marvelous morning market and food extravaganza. It’s popular because of its indulgence in good art, the appreciation of different cultures and the fortification of good company. My friend Claudia, from UCT and I went there today (we have been trying to go for weeks). Hearing rumors and seeing for yourself are two completely different things, so I was excited to see things for myself.
We parked on the side streets near Observatory. I thought, what really could be here? It seemed like the garment district in NY, factories and old time mills. Nothing special, or so I thought. As we turned the corner, there was an explosion of people sitting on piles of coloured tires, holding flutes of champagne or wine with floating fruit. Everyone seemed to at peace, like an abyss of another realm. The smells were unbelieveable. It was a conglomeration of aroma, capturing senses of flafels, fresh breads, cheeses, spices and the appeal of a multicultural circus. In one corner you had people serving fresh meats; sausages, bratwurst – other meats that I could not really see. As we walked into the building, there was a stage of cheese. Yes, a stage. Brie, muenster, gorgonzola, feta, gouda, all the goodies. I would have DIED to try one, but since my recent movement into being a vegan a few months back, I could only be in shock in awe on the sidelines. Next to the cheese stage, was a decorated mass of artistically appealing cupcakes, with little scenes on them like trees, a girl and boy kissing, hearts, stars, you name it. They sparkled. I’ve never in my life seen a cupcake have edible glitter on it. They seemed to be frosted to perfection, having just the right amount and not an overproduction of design. Other booths included, fresh bagels with lox and cream cheese, warm and cold coffees from Italy, these pizzas that seemed like they were baked for the Vatican- allusive with toppings, carrying ingredients like proscuitto, shredded strips of mozzarella, popped cherry tomatoes, freshly grown herbs- basil, thyme and oregano flew into my nostrils like leprechauns seeing the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow and the gold actually being there.
Claudia had been there 3-4 times so she kind of had an idea what she wanted to munch on. I on the other hand was too overwhelmed and stuck to my double espresso. Plus there were too many good photo moments to be eating. In the centre of this all, people were seated on packs of hay, picnic tables and the coloured tires- sipping out of coconuts and tilting their sun hats, every so slightly in order to look that much more chic. It was as if I was on the set for the Great Gatsby and Fitzgerald himself was sitting next to me, directing the actors and extras in order to frame the shot and bring forth a message- wealth can be exuded by just how you carry yourself, how you are seen by the public and by what material items you adorn you body and surround your life with. This was white South Africa at its finest, basking the sun that poor children on the other side of town in Sophumelela or Kensington are as well. Except instead of worrying over where their next meal will come from, they worry about what label is on the inside of their clothes. Somewhat disgusting, but I guess every class in society has its form of social networking.
Nonetheless, the art was there. It was what drew me into the place, first and foremost. I heard rumors of a to die for photography shop and Claudia said it was around the corner. I forget the name, but it blew me away. They had fish-eye cameras with 35-mm film, something I have been struggling to find for years and there it was for only R600. Ahh, I was tempted, but resisted, successfully. Bleh. The shop was perfectly composed, as if it were too a photograph. They had an exhibition wall, where Claudia saw her friend who models for a Cape Tonian photographer on the wall amongst the vast amount of photos. It was like stepping into time zone between the past, present and future, lucidly placing together the semblance of truths and realities in every saturation possible and from every angle.
Some of the other shops were ceramics, South African pottery, lighting arrangements, children’s clothes, handmade jewelry and crafts. There was also this unique bead shop that was colour coordinated into different sections. Each corner of the store was sectioned off by the colour of the beads. It was as if I was stepping into a box of crayons and bathing in the very essence of each colours, grasping their importance and beauty in life and how positive colour can be.
I’m a little disappointed that I just came to find this place on my last Saturday in South Africa, but at least I can say that I have been there and can take away the memories and the art forever.
South Africa has taught me a lot about myself. In the last five months I have found out more of who I am and the genuine factors that compose me. Coming here was one of the only sole decisions I made on my own, only doing it for myself and putting whatever ills downed me at the time aside, so that I could see the world and myself for what it truly is. As I have now ventured outside the walls of America, I can honestly say that the culture in which I was born and raised rests entirely on the embodiment of other cultures. What South Africa has taught me the most is to appreciate, respect and genuinely be a member of the human race- to see the beauty in all people, places and things- no matter if you’ve been there a million times or it’s the first time your eyes have seen the place. The world is full of life and your life was a gift given to you by powers higher than yourself, so cherish it, expand it, challenge it, and most importantly, live it.
The housemates and myself are going to head to Durban from the 17-19. I’m excited to have a little bit of a vac after my last examination on the 16. And then I head back to New York.
Cheers, Mel.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
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