Finding Fervour

Clouds across the Karoo. It’s very difficult to drive through the vast plains and enormous expanses of nothing in South Africa. I kept having to pull over to snap pictures or I’d slowly drift over to the wrong side of the road. 

Not that I was driving dangerously or anything.

I’m just glad the other cars on the road were few and far between…

One picture of very, very many from the first leg of a stargazing trip covering the best night sky destinations. 

This was taken in Kagga Kamma in the Cederberg, host to a glittering mass of enormous expanse. 

To say it’s mind-boggling is an understatement. 

Why yes. That is a pool and yes, it is the most gorgeous swampy green colour. 

Waves colliding in Cape Town

Sjoe. 

AfrikaBurn 2013.

I have no idea where to begin. The mind-numbing colour-collecting cloud-lit sunsets?

The enormous mounds of tents and McGyverisms of camping ingenuity (the proverbial boer maak ‘n plan sort of scenario when you realise you’ve got everything except cutlery) or the ribbon rhythms of light that pounded the flat - and I mean flat - Karoo desert?

The loos with a view, which you trundle over to in the morning only to find beautiful naked women practicing yoga in the sweetened sunrise hours?

Perhaps the gazillions of bicycles caked with flowers, flashing lights, bits of tinsel and a horn?

How about the abundance of crazy cars zooting around the plains so peacocks swim before you and a double-decker bus pumps out beats that reverberate around you?

Or perhaps the towering sculptures made from wood and sticks and branches that stick out across the landscape and seem acutely unaware of their impending fate?

I think I’ll start with the flat tyre. The bursting sound and slow whoosh of the front right wheel, which the members of the gurgling Citi Golf tried to deny. Sigh. No more spares. Off into the night, squeezing your bum cheeks tight when you hear the faintest of stony scrabbling under belly. 

We arrived in the evening, leaving dusk behind us in the city and arrived into a surreal world or neon lights and an orange glow above us. There’s no cell phone signal, no money-orientated currency and a temporary tented-town of people searching for something in the middle of nowhere. There is simply no way of comprehending it all. 

FIve days later you leave and attempt to make sense of it all. It felt odd not paying for the coffee you patiently queued for at the Stasie Kaffee. They simply hand it over and you feel almost guilty for taking the first sip.

The burning artworks which so magnificently littered the desert lie in a pile of coal - along with half a campsite it should be added - and the entire town eventually disappears.

You could technically say nothing really happened out there. You pack up, burn up and sweep up any remnant for future archeologists and yet it stays with you. You have flashbacks of this costume and that burn and this guy with the neon tutu or falling off a basket-hammock hanging off the side of a fantastical car that you fail to find the next day. 

There is a reason there’s such a commotion about Tankwa Town. 

It’s just unbelievable. 

I found this intriguing insect - it’s intriguing because I have no bloody idea what it is - when my sister and I went meandering one Sunday afternoon. There is a small reserve consisting of small rock-koppies and swaying grass snuggled between suburban homes. I was terribly jealous because a lot of these homes looked onto the reserve. They must feel as though they’re on permanent holiday.

We found two tortoises, a bunch of Blesbok and a scuttling of dassies here and there. As well as this funny little guy. 

I’m blown away that this pocket of nature has been retained in the middle of urban Johannesburg, cornered in by houses, shopping centres, tarred roads and tall towers of flats. It is literally a kilometre walk from my own home and I vouch to visit the Norscot Sanctuary every second Sunday when it shares the small natural treasures that remain right on my very own doorstep. 

Who would’ve thought. 

Thalia

Some buildings looking over the sea in Cape Town 

This morning there was a post-birthday brekkie for my little sister. We went down the road into the bundu (about five minutes from home - who knew?) to find an old peach farm. The peach trees didn’t look too dashing - yes, it is winter, they’re forgiven - but this array of fruit and veggies definitely did the job. 

Look at the the size of those sweet potatoes and marrows! There’s a good reason there’s been a whole palava about going organic. Just ask these brightly coloured, over-sized, simply scrumptious fruits and veggies.

We bought home some red peppers (for about half the price they are in the stores) and a giant marrow in the hopes of stuffing one for dinner this week. Personally, I think hopes are high, but I’d love to be proven wrong and whipped up a portion. 

This whole excursion lit a fire under my arse though and taught me to open my eyes, look up and get out more. Just five minutes down the road is a haven of good old fresh produce, delicious food at the Peach Cafe served alongside the hottest of coffees you’re likely to get in these parts and you’re surrounded by pleasantly bleating sheep and lines of geese waddling about. 

Exploration. It’s a very important thing. 

It’s a trying-to-escape fish. 

Taken at a Koi pond nearby with an underwater point and shoot.

The Cape Town coast from the Promenade.