Love, Distance, and a City Called Home

A Month On

Today marks a calendar month since I boarded the flight for the 13-hour, 25-minute journey back from Cape Town to Manchester, and yet the scenes from that visit still run through my mind as though the credits have not quite rolled. Already, I am planning the next one.

Cape Town represents more than a destination; the story began barely seven years ago, when Brian and I had our second rendezvous in South Africa. Soon after we met in Johannesburg in December 2018, I resolved to spend the next Easter with him.

It was a stroke of good fortune that in late February 2019, work dried up and, rather than loiter aimlessly waiting for a new posting, I took a next-day flight to Johannesburg. It was entirely unscripted, and yet it became the scene that changed everything. Brian joined me for ten days, which became the consummation of our relationship.

From Joburg to Cape Town

I did not cancel the planned Easter meeting. Some scenes, it seems, are written regardless of what comes before them. We were going to meet up in Johannesburg, fly together to Cape Town, and then return to Joburg for the end slice of our holiday.

Now, we just meet up in Cape Town and make home in apartments around the city and suburbs. It is the kind of story you return to willingly, knowing the setting well but always finding something in it you had not quite seen before. Each stay brings unforgettable memories as we work towards being together a lot more than being apart.

What Love Brings

What Brian brings into my life is immeasurable: love, care, companionship, laughter, shared experiences, and stories that make our uniquely special bond everything that matters to both of us. These are not trivial things. They are the substance of a story worth telling, and more importantly, worth living.

My heart is full, and I am blessed with such unconditional love that I pray daily to be worthy of the affection that someone expresses so wholly, freely, sincerely, and unashamedly.

Never a Dull Moment

There is never a dull moment. The way we seek out adventure, revisiting old haunts or discovering new places, gives the story its texture, the kind of detail that stops a narrative from flattening into something predictable.

So, Cape Town is a place transforming into a reality what is the stuff of impossible dreams coming true. Love transcends distance, endures difficulty, ekes out the best, and writes the stories we could never have imagined.

Cape Town, Our Home

Our minds walk through places we have registered so well that each recollection feels like more than words. It is like a film playing back, slowing just enough for us to keep up with everything, with no need to rewind or fast-forward; it is always at the right pace. Perhaps that is what love does to memory. It becomes the editor, keeping only what matters.

That is why we know Cape Town will be our home, our sanctuary, our nest, and our place. The story is far from over. We cannot wait to be together again in the Mother City; even time folds for the purpose of real love.

A Google NotebookLM AI Podcast on this blog

Riding Reclined: Cape Town Transport Tales

Cape Town Adventures

Last week, Cape Town reached the climax of preparations for the 109 km Cape Town Cycle Tour 2026. The weekend before saw Cape Town Pride, with us all congregating after the march at the Green Point Track. What a beautiful day it was.

However, I bring up cycling because something about our Uber rides around Cape Town reminds me of recumbent bicycles: those reclined, lumbar-supported seats that seem to make a statement rather than suggest healthy reasons.

The Recumbent Tendency

I haven't seen one around town, but this tendency has caught my attention. I sit behind drivers when travelling with Brian, and I have noticed that nearly all of them recline their seats as far back as legally permitted. It makes me think they want to be riding recumbent bicycles.

To my memory, only one driver kept their seat upright; we rode with him last night. You might assume the reason for reclining seats is to accommodate larger drivers, and some could do with weight management.

However, even the apparently fit and trim have adopted this relaxed habit, reclining comfortably at the expense of their passengers. I could ask the driver to adjust their seat, but I would rather have a comfortable driver enjoying their music and being happy with their settings than interfere and create an awkward situation. It is within my rights to request this, but I prefer not to.

MyCiTi Bus System

Beyond Uber, our main transportation option, we tried the MyCiTi mass transit bus system for the first time. We travelled from Woodbridge to the Waterfront. The bus took its own route, avoiding traffic, which was a marvel. It was safe and comfortable, and as I boarded, someone gave up their seat for me.

All it required was tapping in at the bus station and tapping out when we alighted. I suspect adventure might take us to other places as we explore the different bus routes around Cape Town. The MyCiTi system does not yet serve Pinelands, but Brian pointed out that bus stop signs indicate that the service is coming this way in the not-too-distant future.

Coastal Exploration and Train Journey

On Tuesday, which turned out to be the hottest day of our sojourn (bar yesterday, when residents were advised to stay indoors), we went out to Muizenberg. Starting from Sunrise Beach, we walked all the way down to Muizenberg Beach. After a meal, we continued past Rhodes Cottage Museum to St James.

Just seeing the traffic on the main road was dispiriting enough to rule out hailing a cab back home. The ticket office was closed as the train arrived. Without any clear knowledge of the network, we boarded a clean, though busy, train all the way to Observatory, as it was the only place we recognised on that route to Cape Town.

We kept track of our journey using Google Maps as the train indicators were not working. Nineteen stops it was, and it would have cost us ZAR 12. Unfortunately, there was no one to either check tickets with or purchase them from, so it became a free ride. [ZAR - South African Rand ($1 = ZAR 16.59) (£1 = ZAR 22.20)]

As we alighted at Observatory, I saw the penalty notice: ZAR 40 for not having a valid ticket. We had a good excuse. The St James ticket office was open longer hours on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, but on other weekdays, it closed at 13:30. We boarded that train at 17:28.

Final Thoughts on Public Transport

Getting on both the bus and the train has been something we have considered during our previous stays, but reviews of the services suggest dangerous and safety concerns for non-residents.

In our experience, it was safe, comfortable, and affordable: something worth trying where the service exists, especially during the day. At night-time, though, I would have my misgivings.

A Google NotebookLM AI Audio Overview Discussion of this blog

Flies on the Wall of Evil

Discovering Hidden Routes

We too easily see a place through one perspective, but last week, because of our proximity to Century City in Cape Town, we decided to walk a network of routes from Rugby to the Canal Walk Shopping Centre, which had been the focus of our visits many times before.

After visiting the shopping centre, on our walk back, we bought MyCiTi bus passes in anticipation of using the public bus rapid transit service that we had been shy of approaching in the preceding seven years of staying in Cape Town. However, it was a panel of pictures showing how Century City had evolved since the 1990s that caught our attention, though we were too tired to explore further.

Century City: The History of Century City

A Second Chance

In our move to Pinelands, we could have dismissed this opportunity again, but proximity once more compelled us, not so much to walk it, but to get an Uber from Pinelands to the shopping centre, explore the walkways of Century City, and then walk through Rugby and Milnerton to Woodbridge Island.

It was during this plan that we became flies on the wall of two encounters that left us saddened by the malicious and malevolent intentions of others.

An Uncomfortable Ride

The Uber that took us to the shopping centre was supposed to be a cool, comfortable ride, but for the duration of the journey, the driver was in conversation on the phone. I did not understand anything of what he was saying, but could hear bits about sums of money being pushed about. You could immediately recognise he was involved in some sort of deal.

His name was Trust, but I would pray that no one, and especially Uber, should be trusting him. Had we known what he was up to, we would not have trusted his picking us up either. Whilst we were delivered to our destination safely, he was speaking Shona, one of the major languages of Zimbabwe, which he probably assumed none of us understood, but Brian did. With whoever he was chatting to, they were planning a number of exploitative and manipulative schemes.

Schemes of Exploitation

The first was to register a number of cars with fake identities on the Uber platform, then traffic people from rural areas in Zimbabwe to drive the cars with the aim of paying them poverty or slavery wages as they drove endless hours to bring money home for these chaps with pretensions to being crime bosses.

In the words of Trust, and I paraphrase, "Just put a plate of food before them and they'll be happy as Larry." They had every intention to mistreat, abuse, exploit, and deal wickedly with whoever they were able to entice with the bright lights of South Africa.

A Difficult Decision

I learnt all this after our ride, to which I suggested Brian should have exited with a greeting in Shona, just to let him know we were onto him. Obviously, there was no possibility of us giving him five stars for his service, even if he did not carry out his evil intentions, but we were left in a quandary as to whether to report this encounter to Uber and how to frame what we understood had happened.

Another Overheard Conversation

No sooner had we begun our walk beyond the territory of the shopping centre into Century City proper than there was another wheeler and dealer on the phone. I do not think he was planning a new magic trick for his next performance, but he probably works in one of the offices in Century City. He confided in his interlocutor on the other end of the call about how he had to try to make four million South African rand disappear.

I doubt we'll recognise him, as we only heard him as he walked by us in the opposite direction, and the disappearance of the money can only pertain to him having view of, or access to, that money somewhere in an organisation and scheming to thieve or embezzle it.

The Audacity of Evil

It did make us wonder about both the audacity of calumny and the recklessness of incriminating conversations that others think no one is hearing. These are thoughts that should never emerge as words spoken when there is a conscience alive in us, even if barely so. In both cases, we saw the clear sign that the love of money is indeed the root of all evil.

It is quite likely there are many instances of human trafficking, people exploitation, and embezzlement as we visit places around Cape Town that we are totally oblivious to. Yesterday, I gave a tip to a server in an establishment where the personification of Cruella de Vil superintended with vicious verbiage; the server's deep gratitude would suggest something I am unready to countenance.

The question is, who will stop these evil people before they implement their rotten plans?

A Google NotebookLM AI Audio Overview Discussion of this blog

Cape Town Apartment Chronicles

Making Do in Cape Town

As a writer of blogs, I could write a review and start a travelogue of all the apartments we have stayed in, the restaurants we have visited, and other venues, whether for tourists or not. However, I suspect you are more interested in your holiday than in a commentary, especially about things not going right.

We checked out early from a place in Rugby to take another apartment in Pinelands. This is something we usually do: splitting our living arrangements in two and having an overlapping day to move from one location to another. Only once have we not done this, because the new place was just 200 metres away and the host had agreed to an early check-in.

The Rugby Apartment

The place in Rugby was one we liked after a few adjustments, including a visit from the host to try to make amends. However, the critical issue, as Brian noted, was that the place lacked a feminine touch. Broadly, it offered just the practical things for essential apartment living. For days, this niggled until the microwave played up and I had to use a mug to scoop food into another pot.

So, I wrote to the host to highlight the issues rather than complain, and this reflects some of what we have experienced with apartments in Cape Town.

Hello, I'm staying at your apartment with my partner. At first, I thought we could manage, but I need to inform you of a few things before I write a very honest review of our experience. It is a lovely place; we are comfortable and feel safe. However, you cannot manage a property from a lock box.

We are very domesticated people and are usually in Cape Town twice a year, sometimes for more than a month, staying in places as varied as Camps Bay, Sea Point, Foreshore, Muizenberg, and Bloubergstrand since 2019. We have a good idea about apartments, service, and the quality of accommodation.

First, we asked for a spare set of keys, which, as I informed you, we have always had with other places. Then, the size of the apartment is about half the over 600 square feet advertised on Booking.com.

Basic stuff: not enough hangers in the bedroom, many crooked. That's manageable. You have a kitchen but no kitchen knife; we bought one yesterday, just as there are no kitchen scissors. The Power Defrost and Power Level buttons are not working on the microwave. This was the last straw for me, because the prawns for our stir-fry ended up cooked, or we would have had to wait hours for a proper thaw.

The clothes rack should have been replaced; it is full of rust, and we can't hang clothes on it. We could use the clothesline, but we are strangers here. There is a litany of things I could list about the homeliness of your place, but we can manage. As I have said, you will need to visit your apartment to see that things work or are right. Having a lock box is not a substitute for that responsibility. Thank you.

We ended up buying a proper kitchen knife, and this is the third time we have had to do this. It could have happened many more times if Brian had forgotten to bring the typical kitchen utensils we had acquired over time: spatulas, a sauce ladle, and some deep bowls.

When the host came to visit, some 30 minutes behind schedule, he brought a set of ten hangers and a bottle of plonk that might have passed for cooking wine, if Brian's taste for alcohol had not got the better of him.

Moving to Pinelands

After church yesterday, we packed up for this new place in Pinelands, which backs onto a Jewish cemetery just about 150 metres away and is clearly visible from the seventh-floor window. You can bet my vivid imagination is under serious curtailment, and I hope the rational will overwhelm the irrational, as I do not intend to lose my mind in the process.

We encountered the usual issues again. People do not cook, hence the kitchen setup is lacking. Once, we had to buy a pot, and this place has just one pot for cooking. There is no kitchen knife, but we already have one. Surprise: there is a pair of scissors in the kitchen drawer.

There is a thriving takeaway and fast-food culture in South Africa, where ingredients for food can be organic, fresh, and healthy, but people are not cooking, except when they have a braai.

Two bedrooms, not really the size that was advertised, but that is a minor point. There is a worktable from where I am typing, but no centre table in the living room, as if we should eat off our laps. In the fire escape, we found two stools and a floor mat that matched the one in the apartment. I think we can consider ourselves resourceful.

Making the Space Work

We had to change the orientation of the bed, as it was just wrong. When our hostess returned that afternoon, she agreed that the realignment was better. However, what I cannot understand is the dearth of sockets in these apartments. We had to get extension leads with dual sockets to have somewhere to plug in our devices.

She cannot remember the Wi-Fi password, as the two she provided did not work. Meanwhile, I found a way around the issue. The Google TV box connected to the television has a Wi-Fi hotspot feature, but when switched on, it disables the Wi-Fi connection. Usually, the WPS (Wi-Fi Protected Setup) button on the router should work, but we failed to get a link.

I connected the Google TV box to the router with an Ethernet cable and set up the Wi-Fi hotspot. That way, we have Internet connectivity without the fuss, or we would have had to wait until Tuesday to get that sorted.

Meeting Miranda Priestly

We joined her in the lift and, whilst she understandably refused entry to another resident with a shopping trolley (though there was enough space for all of us), it was the mother holding a baby that she barred, which left us stunned. Her explanation: "I am the Miranda Priestly of this apartment block." The funny thing is, on my first visit to South Africa in May 2015, I did watch The Devil Wears Prada on my outward flight. I did not expect to meet her in real life.

We have different panoramic views of Table Mountain, and just a glimpse of the sea, even though it is almost seven miles away. For that alone, I am not so forlorn this far inland in Cape Town.

A Google NotebookLM AI Audio Overview Discussion of this blog

Finding Dignity at Zeitz MOCAA

Finding Kindness

Having done some shopping at Woolworths in the V&A Waterfront, I walked to Silo District past the Nelson Mandela Gateway to Robben Island to hail an Uber back home. The Friday evening rush hour, combined with the impending weekend, meant it was quite busy. However, leaving from this end of the V&A Waterfront cuts out a good deal of the traffic involved in exiting Cape Town.

I did not get an Uber for eight minutes, and when a driver was found, he was ten minutes away. Then he cancelled three minutes into my waiting time. Uber began looking for another driver, just as I realised, I had chosen this location to get me home on time, before getting caught in the traffic I might encounter if I had hailed a cab from the Breakwater end of the V&A Waterfront.

A Pressing Dilemma

It became a battle in my mind: should I wait for a cab or seek the use of facilities? The nearest one was about 250 metres away, up flights of steps that I am usually supported in navigating. But I was alone in town with two heavy bags of shopping and a walking cane I could not use if I needed to balance the load.

My better judgement intervened. I cancelled the Uber and decided to try my luck at the Zeitz MOCAA, the Museum of Contemporary Art Africa, which was behind me. As a total stranger, I would not have been able to just walk into any establishment to ask to use their toilets. Or maybe I have never really had the courage to. Besides the museum, there were two hotels nearby, but we had been fully paid-up members of the museum before COVID-19 struck, and I knew where the entrance was.

Navigating the Process

The first thing was to get my Just Can't Wait card up on my mobile phone, which was running out of battery. I had to put it on Power Saving mode to ensure I could at least call an Uber before it died. I showed the card to security at the door, requesting to use the toilets, and she directed me to reception.

At the reception desk, one of the staff took a picture of my Just Can't Wait card on the phone and then gave me directions to the toilets, which were in the basement. My explanation that I needed urgent use of a toilet because of a medical condition was sufficient.

As I walked to the lifts, another security guard stopped me. I believe he checks for entry tickets, and I did not have one. I explained my situation, and he even offered to have my shopping bags deposited at the check-in desk. But I did not have the time; I needed to be at the toilets immediately. Even the lifts were slow in arriving, but I was soon where I needed to be, as relief and gratitude welled up in me.

People Over Things

My experience with this organisation reminded me of the spirit of their Executive Director and Chief Curator, Madame Koyo Kouoh, who passed away last year after a recent cancer diagnosis, even as she was about to serve as the artistic director of the 2026 Venice Biennale. In the museum's tribute to her, she was remembered for her belief: "People are more important than things," and for quoting the African proverb, "If you want to go fast, go alone. But if you want to go far, go together."

We live in communities shaped by experiences and circumstances. Some are so fleeting and yet significant in simply having empathy and understanding for invisible yet critical human vulnerabilities and responding to such encounters without question or judgement. People do not even have to have walked a long, hard mile in another's shoes. Even in South Africa, where basically no one knows of the Just Can't Wait card, a human story becomes the willingness to help rather than the fear of losing one's job.

Not that I want to remember what happened barely a month before, when I was refused the use of facilities with all the desperation written across my face, in my own Manchester, of all places. Thank you, Zeitz MOCAA, for simply being human. It meant a lot to me.

Blog - The Just Can't Wait Card Test

Zeitz MOCAA Staff Tribute to Koyo Kouoh

A Google NotebookLM AI Audio Overview Discussion of this blog

Living the breeze of Cape Town

Cape Town on My Mind

I might miss Cape Town this December, but when I look back on the last seven years, I have spent a bit of every month of the year there, except for February and March.

This city brings me more than joy. I get to spend beautiful moments with Brian: walking the promenade, shopping at the Victoria & Alfred Waterfront, eating and dining in friendly restaurants, feeling the breeze on long stretches of beach that seem to have no end for miles, attending cultural events, and basking in the nature and beauty of Kirstenbosch National Botanical Garden.

If we wander away from Cape Town, it is to a wine estate, though we have not done that in a while. We live and desire Cape Town as the destination of our dreams. We can be as occupied as we can be idle, but every moment is fulfilling. Nothing beats the yearning to return and have an extended, or even permanent, stay there.

The Cape Town I Know

After Brian met my best friend in Pretoria last month, Kola left for Cape Town, where he saw the city through my eyes and my knowledge of the places he went to, as if we were there together.

Such is the familiarity and sense of belonging that we, Brian and I, have acquired. However, we need to cultivate stronger ties and relationships beyond just knowing the city: to have friends and become part of the community.

In some ways, Brian also needs to take the initiative on planning and scheduling, rather than suggesting outlandish ideas that he would never attempt, like hiking up Table Mountain or paragliding from the mountain to the Sea Point lawns. He uses these crazy ideas as a tactic to get me to suggest something less dangerous.

Cape Town in Our Hearts

We rarely do anything on the scene, just as I have no such interest in Manchester, but there is much to gain from engagement in the churches we attend.

We seem to attract both interest and curiosity, and for most of the time we have met with a very welcoming and enriching atmosphere. Brian, though, would rarely attend church alone, usually after I have left, when being there could provide some succour for the feeling of separation.

Cape Town exudes that vivid quality of pictures, memories, events, and feelings, all too real in my mind. Even from 9,900 kilometres away, I feel the warmth, hear the waves, and could touch the wooden slats of the benches at Nobel Square, watching the clouds billowing over Table Mountain and listening to the marimba bands performing as we sip Mango Bang fruit smoothies. We do love Cape Town.

A whoosh moment

Coffee Gets Milky

The wind lifts the leaves and sends them dancing. What a thing it is to feel that sea breeze against your face, salt-sharp and bracing. This is Cape Town in all its contradictions: the water we adore from a distance, too dreadfully cold to ever step into, lapping at shores of the beach we walk but never wade.

Morning breaks, and somewhere in a sanctuary, someone reaches for their second cup before the first is fully drowned. Here, beneath vaulted ceilings that will echo with songs, the beans speak their own benediction, at hands one mirroring another.

The milk froths to an airy resurrection, poured into waiting darkness until the black turns cloudy with grace. It's communion of a different sort, but no less sacred for its secularity.

Notes Get Windy

In the dreaming hours, when consciousness drifts between waking and sleep, a figure moves through half-lit streets. From her handbag tumbles a scatter of notes, and in that suspended moment before she reaches down, the wind stirs with intention. You call out, to warn of the loss she's about to suffer, as dream-logic speaks in your voice.

Then the child appears, whimsical and wild as wind itself. From his lips comes a sound, a playful whoosh that blurs the line between breath and breeze. The notes lift, caught between gravity and air, between currency and sound, everything suddenly, impossibly airborne.

It's the kind of moment that clings to you after waking, vivid and strange, the sort of thing that makes you wonder if wind has always been this mischievous, this alive.

All that jazz around Cape Town

Reminiscing and Remembering

I returned from a short holiday in Cape Town just over five weeks ago, where Brian and I had a wonderful seaside apartment in Bloubergstrand with amazing views of Table Mountain and Robben Island.

The last time we were in this area was probably about six years ago, when we boarded a tour bus to visit wine estates in Paarl and Franschhoek. Bloubergstrand presents one of the best views of Table Mountain; you see the table as it is, which is why an area of Bloubergstrand is called Table View.

On one of the beautiful long walks on the beach, I did get sunburnt on my lips, the front edges of my hands on the side of my thumbs and forefingers, and the tips of my big toes. I could not believe that at barely 19° Celsius, as winter was coming to an end, I could be that susceptible, but there I was.

All That Jazz

Cape Town city centre is about 15 kilometres from Bloubergstrand. We could have ventured onto the MyCiTi buses but stuck with Uber rides. For church, we found a multicultural, international Pentecostal church that was both welcoming and exciting. The coffee makers exhibited skills on a par with, or even better than, Starbucks quality.

One of the many highlights of our time together was discovering that Chicago, the musical, was playing at ArtScape. We booked tickets and attended, where we were feted for our dressing and some patrons asked to take pictures either of us or with us.

During the performance, a gay couple behind us were the better part of a nuisance, singing along to the songs to the point of irritation. We did not complain, but at the end, they both came to say hello, apologised for being noisy, and then gave us their programmes on noticing we had not bought one. You never know what comes from keeping your cool.

Cape Town: Is it time to lean on the fat?

How addiction hobbles our chances

Walking through a cancer hospital to the department where you are receiving treatment reveals a world of great suffering, the unerring will of humanity to survive, the purveyance of hope for which the only currency of purchase is faith that could waver depending on prognosis, pain, confidence, or despair; it is a teaching and humbling moment.

How I have wanted to walk out of that hospital and snatch a cigarette from the lips of a young smoker totally oblivious of what cancer does to the body and how the odds one faces with cancer depends of what it is, where is has been found, if it has spread and if there is a body of knowledge and expertise available to give you a chance to survive.

Then, I do not have to walk far to realise how much of a hold tobacco and nicotine has over people. As at a designated area near the entrance of the same cancer hospital, you will find patients undergoing cancer treatment huddling in corners for another drag of the poison already killing them. They give themselves no chances at all, and if they come through, good for them.

This is obese in plain sight

In Cape Town, there was something we could not unsee, when we stay in Cape Town, we try as much as possible to walk everywhere and everything is within walking distance. Even on days I did not seem to have the strength or the capacity, I made my daily 10,000 steps.

Walking alongside us or coming into view from our vantage point of observation was someone carrying just that extra extra bit of weight on their hips, their bellies, and usually both, then arms and thighs; sights to make you catch your breath.

What you cannot deny is there is an obesity problem which should be registering somewhere in the South African healthcare system. There cannot be any aesthetic value to wanting to tip the scales until the springs broke.

How you address this obvious health crisis will no doubt require tact, wisdom, and some innovative policy initiatives, it should not be ignored. You could see people who could barely move, some were panting every few steps and I cannot put a statistical value on those who might have already acquired diseases of the heart, the kidneys, the pancreas, the liver, and other related serious health problems because of this excess weight.

The fast in fast-food is weight

One other observation we made when we were in Muizenberg, some 25 kilometres from Cape Town, with long stretches of beautiful beaches that more deserted than walked, was the number of delivery bikes that attended our estate at all hours, as if most did no home cooking, but relied on fast food. We do most of our cooking, from quick preparations like stir fries to slow cooking activities, it is about the willingness and timing.

In town, the fast-food outlets are full, taking orders for tables and takeaways for patrons and the ubiquitous delivery bikers, God forfend we dignify those places with the moniker of restaurant. They offer you something to masticate and swallow, but none of it is of value to your body and if you do not work it off, it sits somewhere in your body and accumulates in fatty tissue.

Maybe the new miracle weight-loss drugs might bring respite to the South Africans we saw and give them a fighting chance, but it also must include some desire and the will to do something about it.

While everyone is free to celebrate their bodies and love who they are, while not being shamed for what they have become, we need to square the circle between feeling good and being healthy. That will not come by lying to be nice.

Between haughty Hillsong and bounty biltong

Giving thanks but no thanks

It was with great anticipation that we decided to choose Hillsong Church as the place to attend to give thanks and praise for triumphing over situations and circumstances that had befallen us for the last couple of years.

From a natural perspective, many things seemed insurmountable but providence and good fortune even with limited resources gave such an opportunity for celebration and we were excited about it.

We arrived at the church in Century City, just outside Cape Town and followed the crowd into the building. An usher was closing access to the first entrance to the hall we got to until I said we were first-time visitors. We were allowed into the darkish hall with bright lights on the stage as the praise and worship session was about to begin.

We found seats, squeezed between people who appeared to want to be elsewhere as we joined in congregational worship, and we just went with the flow. Once everything was done, we left as we came, unnoticed, unengaged, and quite unwelcome too. We were blessed but did not have the feeling that we would return.

Surely welcoming is standard church practice

Cape Town is an international tourist destination; we usually attend St George’s Cathedral when in Cape Town and we have always felt welcome. One would expect as with church traditions we have witnessed in many places that there is an acknowledgement of visitors to the fellowship with an opportunity provided to meet up with new faces, presenting the church as a welcoming and open community.

We found it quite strange that at no time during the 11:00 AM service we attended at Hillsong that visitors were welcomed or acknowledged. The church was just busy, too busy being church and probably feeling too full to notice anyone attending for the first time. My partner felt that the worship leading had become a self-absorbed performance to entertain us, it was lots of activity accomplishing little.

Maybe it was an oversight as it did bother me, I volunteer as a steward in my local church in Manchester, we welcome people as they come in, the clergy acknowledges visitors during the service, and everyone is invited for refreshments at the end of the service. We are a community regardless of when you come or where you come from.

Writing to the blind and deaf

I decided to write to the church about our visit and the atmosphere we encountered, apart from a boilerplate response, no one acknowledged or replied from the church. Seeing that the pastors of that church had gone on to lead the global fellowship. A few days later, I forwarded my original email to the main church in Australia, another boilerplate response without acknowledgement or reply.

Even for a business, basic standards of professionalism would suggest a basic response for emails sent on the 25^th of June and then on the 3^rd of July, the substantive elements of our experience and observations might be dealt with later.

It is not a scandal, we eventually concluded Hillsong had decided we did not matter, and we could not have been so uniquely affected, we were random worshippers who thought there was a prospect of adding a Pentecostal flair to our Anglican devotion in fellowshipping with the Hillsong community. We can however conclude there are more issues in that family than meets the eye.

Biltong engagement was much better

In comparison to the biltong shop that used to be in the Time Out Market that moved into a vending van at the other side of the Watershed at the Victoria & Alfred Waterfront, even after almost 2 years of last patronising them.

The different vendors that manned the van on the separate days that we bought biltong were enterprising, engaging, welcoming, friendly, and inspiring of the desire to return. It is quite bizarre that I am comparing Hillsong to biltong, much was desired of the former, but we found a better relationship with the latter.

Everything is about establishing connections for human relationships, if a church cannot effectively do that, it has by all terms lost its purpose. In my email, I did suggest that we were not trying to change any Hillsong traditions, just highlighting something that could be useful.

My experience with Hillsong London was different, but that was 11 years ago before the scandals happened. I have written a bit about those issues before, my feeling is things have not changed, a window dressing does not a shop make.

Blog - Thought Picnic: Where Everybody Shares Your Pain (August 2013)

Blog - Hillsnog: How the scandals at Hillsong took root (September 2021)

Blog - The Hillsong controversy and resignation (April 2022)

Sleepless in prose

What questions at crazy times

Many a night is spent sleepless,
Even at times, one is quite listless,
As midnight gains hour on hour,
The brain seeks stuff to scan and scour,
What could I do at this strange hour?

Then inspired by what I just read,
For quite a while not woven a thread,
Of words and thoughts within the mind,
To test a skill of wit, prose, and kind,
What is it that we might find?

In a bed, I sleep without that warmth,
Of arms that wrap around like cloth,
Those hands that soothe a good back rub,
Or when we shower, I get a scrub,
What in the morn is in my hot teacup?

My daydreams are walked all by the sea,
With winds and sprays that bring me glee,
I know my dreams prepare a way,
A foretaste of true living into the day,
What they ask makes them happy and gay? 

Backsberg: Not what it was

Setting standards of view

Backsberg Estate Cellars was the very first wine estate we visited in the Cape Winelands as we began our discovery of places and things to do around Cape Town in April 2019. We were greeted with a full tour of the estate, a visit to the cellars, and a well-arranged wine tasting in a beautiful dining room with cheese and chocolate pairings. It became the benchmark for what to expect from wine estates.

We returned in October and December of the same year, though in December 2020, the pandemic alcohol ban meant we could not visit and by December 2021 as excited as we were to be on the Franschhoek Wine Trams, we found that Backsberg had been taken off the itinerary because it had been acquired and so were moving from the farm Backsberg generations had occupied since 1916.

Not what it was

We have visited almost 30 wine estates and that nostalgic Backsberg experience endeared us to the place and the people. Having moved to a new location, the acquisition has changed what we knew of Backsberg. The farm the family bought from the neighbouring Babylonstoren wine estate over a century ago was sold back to Babylonstoren necessitating the relocation.

At the new estate as a part of other acquisitions, we can see the relics of generational providence and provenance, but that is what remains, a modern museum of memories, history, past achievements, laurels, and prizes. We were the first guests to try the tapas at the new location and another group after us, the wine tasting. The Backsberg Cape Ruby that I liked, which is the equivalent of a Portuguese port wine has been discontinued, amongst others in the range, maybe, the shadow it has become of itself might yet materialise into something substantially redolent of our cherished memories.

On this, the new Backsberg Family Wines is what it is, however, it is not what it was.

Tested by many things

Just doing it

I decided not to beat myself up for the fact that July presented no prolific blogging activity even as I split the month between celebrating my partner’s birthday and holidaying, out of which I took the time for intensive study to do a Microsoft test.

After I did the AZ-900: Microsoft Azure Fundamentals entry-level test which I had been putting off for so long until early June, I began studying for the AZ-104: Microsoft Azure Administrator test, though this was not until I had completed all the course work on the Microsoft Learn website, even though I had handsomely passed the test. I did initially think I would finish that track before I travelled to Cape Town at the end of June.

Recovering self and purpose

Events and issues scuppered that plan, I lost my uncle, my contract was ending, and I was preparing for the trip to Cape Town to celebrate Brian’s birthday and spend the month together. The first few days left me slightly indisposed even as I discreetly planned for his birthday. Visiting Cape Town in the southern hemisphere’s winter might have me considering if I need the flu jab as we do take it for the winter in the northern hemisphere. Winter in Cape Town is like a mild spring to a summer day in Manchester, they are closer to the tropics than we are.

After his birthday, we did a few things, and moved accommodations and I found that I had some free time to do some study which required discipline and concentration as there was a lot of material to cover. Beyond the theory, there are the hands-on labs and then getting used to doing requisite tasks towards achieving goals or requirements borne out of typical case studies.

As I learnt and understood much more, I believed I had gained enough confidence, maybe folly to book the AZ-104 test in cape Town, a few days before my return to the UK. The more I thought I had covered everything, there was much more to do. A YouTube video signified the test in its current format with its current syllabus would change on the 28^th of July. I was now running against the clock to get it done.

Upset to messed up

I found some practice tests and subscribed to an annual membership of Whizlabs, this exposed some areas of serious weakness in my grasp of the concepts and the detail, that needed urgent addressing if I had any hope of scraping through the test. Progress in gaining the requisite understanding of the weak areas was slow.

The test was booked for Tuesday, the 26^th of July at the Prometric office in Cape Town, I checked in the shared workspace and was working towards taking the test at noon, when at 9:38 AM, I received an email from Prometric Vue, the test provider that they could not offer the test and I had to reschedule. Their scheduling system lagged the reality of what they intended, as I spent the next hour with an agent trying to sort it out. In the end, I had the test cancelled and booked a new test date for the next day at another Prometric test centre of the 4 in Cape Town.

The morning’s nonsense left me a bit messed up, I did a walk from the shared workspace home and back to clear my head before I could pore over the material towards the test the next day. Meanwhile, my Whizlabs profile got corrupted that I could not review test attempts and it was not working on my Android devices at all. Thankfully, the CEO contacted me to connect on LinkedIn and that gave me access to the technical team to provide a temporary account whilst they fixed the issue.

Facing up to it

On Wednesday morning, I had a niggling thought that I was about to undertake the test with the barest minimum grasp of the material. Yet, the truth is I had put in over 4 weeks of work along with my experience, and my confidence was taking a hit as Brian assured me that I will do well. At the test centre, I was met with both nonchalance and officialdom, both of which I put down to getting what you pay for in a different kind of setting. The test costs $55 in South Africa, £113 in the United Kingdom, and $165 in the United States. It would appear South Africa has the lowest cost, as most other African domains pay $80.

I was stripped of everything including my walking cane I had to ask if I would have been allowed to use a wheelchair. Then short of being patted down, I was asked to upturn my sleeves to see if I had secreted away cheat sheets of something. Heck! I have been doing vendor certifications since 1994 and this was the first time I was so violated. I surmised, it came with the territory and calmly went into the test room to begin the test some 15 minutes ahead of schedule.

Tested by the test

I did not get a hang of the interface when I was presented from the first question with case studies. I could click on the case study body and requirements but did not realise I had to click on the Question box at the top to return context to what I was to answer. I was close to panicking mode. When I eventually worked out how to do things, I had two case studies, with 9 questions and 32 minutes gone out of 90, with 45 questions to do.

Halfway through I scared myself into thinking I had already failed the test. With 10 minutes left, I had 12 questions to do, they were point-and-click multiple choice questions that I got done with 2 minutes to spare. I marked one question for review, answered that and could not wait to end my ordeal that when presented with the 54 questions to individually comment on each, I passed on the opportunity and closed the test.

The relief of passing

My heart beating at rates it should never reach, the test result came up and I had passed, not glowingly, one section required work, others were rated at average understanding and one at the level of very good. I would not deceive myself into thinking having passed by the skin of my teeth, I was through, I am going to study the material fully again and this would be necessary for the next stage AZ-305: Designing Microsoft Azure Infrastructure Solutions for the Microsoft Azure Solutions Architect Expert certification.

However, after this, I did give myself the time to do other things, especially with Brian and time to myself. There is a good feeling and sense of achievement, the quest to challenge oneself to ascertain, validate, and certify the knowledge and expertise one has gained. I suppose that is the pleasure one has in the work one does.

A walk of Cape Town angst

A camp of distress

Except when tired or lazy, getting around Cape Town is quite easily done as a pedestrian as we usually stay close to the city centre. The first part of our stay was at Camps Bay, a rather well-to-do area that attracts menace and crime like flies to rotten meat, that each night was as uneasy and unsettling as it could be, we were regaled with stories of rather determined burglars and incidents of home invasions.

That the walls had an electric fence, or we had reinforced gates to our doors did not seem to present the idea that we were safe, especially when the burglars hulled out a wall to gain entrance into the compound. We were glad to leave when our time was up.

Camps Bay is also hilly, the inclines are so steep that every view I had of being fit was soon abandoned to the challenge faced. The beauty and aura of wealth, ostentation, and sometimes gaudy architecture in the display of means did not once endear the place to us.

Gone when they are going

Back to walking though, it can be frustrating, if it appears those walking around you have no purposeful destination that a saunter looking like deliberate loitering is what one observes. This apart from the no consideration of others, people who just stop suddenly in the doorways, gateways or on pavements without allowances made for others, not to talk of those who walk abreast oblivious of space or having no spatial awareness.

At times, I seem impatient as my stride is broken by the impediment of sloth, that I have to call out to be given way to pass. Our sedentary existence did not mean we slacked, but eventually, I did get an average of over 10,000 steps done for the month. Whether that is helped my weight management goals, I won’t be able to tell until I get home.

Coronavirus streets between continents - LXVIII

It is still here

One statistic that rarely makes the news these days is the number of COVID-19 infections anywhere, back home in the UK, through countries that one does transit and now in South Africa where I will be for a month. When I left the UK last week, the rate of infections was rising, and the government website provides figures of 116,312 new cases in the 7 days to the 26^th of June 2022.

Every indication would suggest this dreadful virus is not beyond us, even for the fully vaccinated and boosted, the risk remains and so precautions are necessary which I barely see anyone adhere to. On my flight from Manchester to Amsterdam, there were a handful of face mask wearers. Apart from when I needed a sip of water, I had my face mask on the whole time.

Carefree and without

On the Amsterdam to Cape Town leg of about 11 hours, whilst it was advised we don face masks, it was neither enforced nor announced. Left to their devices, a majority chose not to wear a face mask for the entire flight, in my case, I was not ready to take the risk except for the times I had drinks and meals.

I was first to disembark the plane in Cape Town and first through health checks and passport control, and until during the Ebola virus times, there was no one standing around with a temperature gun, life has returned to uneasy normalcy that is as daring and it could be foolhardy.

On one Uber ride the driver half remonstrated that face masks were optional, we did not need to wear face masks, I would rather not have the option of getting infected in the remotest way, so I keep my face mask on and more times than not, I am the strange looking one because I have my face covered and everyone else is happily without.

No courting danger

Seeing that I have just come through a bout of flu after my arrival in Cape Town that took me out of effective ability to do much for myself, talk less of anyone else, much that I desired to attend church on Sunday, I was not up to it. The face mask is a temporary inconvenience and I have more than enough in supply to last months.

In my view, we still need to be careful, people who have had COVID-19 though mild in their symptoms have not had the kind of recovery that represents a complete eradication of the effects of the virus, I would rather err on the side of caution than walk bare-chested into the lion’s den of a raging pandemic. We have to learn to live with COVID-19, but smartly too.

Thought Picnic: On strength to my bones

Changes bringing changes

Generally, I would think I am strong and doing my best to keep healthy. It is however likely that with the change of environments from Manchester to Cape Town even though winter in Cape Town would pass for a mild summer at home I became slightly indisposed.

Irritation in the throat and a bit of a cough, before you knew it, I was completely sapped of energy of verve. Walking around our apartment, I was shuffling my feet rather than properly lifting them off the floor; not a good feeling at all.

A nurse without equal

I sicken too easily, and recovery can be brisk, once I have taken a good rest and slept the apparent fatigue off. I must commend Brian for his care, I guess he is worried sick seeing me literally incapacitated and he has seen this quite a few times too.

He rustles up a ginger, honey and lemon drink which is quite helpful and if he can persuade me to take a vitamin, it might well be strength to my bones. I hate popping pills apart from the ones I have been prescribed and for the aches and pains, Paracetamol with codeine gets to the root of the problem. I am perking up and feeling stronger, I won’t be doing any domestic chores today.

I put it down to change and the need to acclimatise taking comfort from stepping out onto the balcony to view Table Mountain and the beaches of Camps Bay, in one sweeping turn of the head. We love Cape Town, and this is where we meet to love.

Cape Town reflections: The sexy things we failed to do

The sun

Leaving the chill of Manchester to the warmth of Cape Town via Paris was one trip I was so looking forward to for almost a year. It was almost scuppered with the advent of the Omicron variant when the Southern states of Africa were put on the red list. Were it not for the fact that I was spending 6 weeks away and travelling through France, I would have had to cancel my trip.

I love the sun and make the most of taking in the sun, as you would regularly see me in shorts, with a half-unbuttoned short sleeve shirt, a seagrass or straw hat, lots of water to drink, walking more than taking a ride to the Victoria & Alfred Waterfront or going to Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens.

Obviously, there are times when I need the shade, some shelter from the direct heat or to cool off from the warmth. It is strange that of the things we used to do so often in Cape Town and in Johannesburg, we never visited Häagen-Dazs for ice cream, but Christmas in the sun can never be beaten.

The sand

Probably everywhere we could do was green, with grass or other exotic plant life, the sand could probably be found in the dunes that we once tried to visit but the trip was cancelled. The tourist activity now boasts electric bicycles or buggies, it is not what I would feel that confident to do.

Another good view of the sand can be seen from paragliding and there are many who go tandem paragliding from Signal Hill to the fields of Sea Point between the main road and the promenade. Much as Brian would threaten for us to paragliding, I know it would near happen with his vertigo and fear of heights, to get him on the balcony takes much Dutch courage, I was surprised when he offered that we go on the waterfront Ferris wheel after my birthday dinner.

Sometimes, we go to Camps Bay and walk on the beach, though when we went to the Victoria Bay Beach near George, it was windy with ferocious white horses, anything but beach weather. Then we missed out on a place we do love to visit using the City Sightseeing tour bus, Hout Bay where we could walk in the sand, though we have not.

The sea

I suppose we now gravitate towards staying near the sea with easy access to the V & A Waterfront, we are surrounded by water with much to see. The marina there is occupied with idle yachts, probably a few get to wield their sails if ever, more they move under motor power.

The fascination is rarely with the boats but the seals basking in the sun or popping out of the water, beyond that it is the draw bridge or the swing bridge that lets the boats out and cuts off passage to the jutting out landscape of the waterfront and the quays.

For one, we took an apartment with no obstructive views of the sea where ghost ships might have cruised at unbelievable knots of speed, but the more glorious view was when MSC Orchestra came into Cape Town and could not be moored because of the wind, so it loitered in the bay. What it also heralded was the idea that the pandemic was being put behind us and what a crowd of passengers we saw trying to board when you saw her close by, at the passenger’s terminal.

I did not get my feet wet, not once. How could I have had the pleasure of sun, sand, sea, and sex, in Cape Town but missed out on ample opportunity to take advantage and commit to memory the amazing things to cherish. We love Cape Town.

Stuck on unpacked

Stood still at stop

Three weeks after returning from Cape Town, I cannot say I have settled down or acclimatised in any way. The four suitcases that I brought back from my travels remain unpacked in my living room as my mind is already contemplating the next time I can be out there again to be with my fiancé.

The weather here at home, though mild has taken a turn for the dreadfully depressing worse, as it is getting colder and taking on the characteristically disreputable signature of rainy Manchester. Good for farmers and no one else.

As I look for sorts of distraction that I have not quite found in enthusiasm at work, I have been baking bread modifying the recipes to get better outcomes, though I should extend my baking repertoire to attempting other exciting baked goods.

Urge for a surge

My truth-telling weighing scales displays numbers that has me looking for consistently sure ways of shedding the pounds and keeping that bulk off without having to radically change my diet. Beyond that trouble is the need for a kickstart of engagement, something that reignites the quest, the curiosity, and the joy of learning that I cannot seem to begin to interest myself with any aplomb. It requires discipline and consistency as much as I need to be enthused.

Brian is my constant source of encouragement and light as Kola is the most unstinting confidante, I know it would all come good. I just need to weather the storm.

Cape Town reflections: Feathering the nest

But for a love nest

We aim to create home away from home when we meet up in Cape Town that has become our city of choice in South Africa. This requires we have suitable domestic arrangements beyond what obtains in a hotel, and so certain things need to be taken into consideration.

I have used Airbnb once before and, in many ways, I did not enjoy the experience as the upfront costs can be quite high in terms of deposits and I was not sure on the dispute resolution process. With Hotels.com, whilst we cannot make bookings more than 28 nights, there are other benefits as it is part of the larger Expedia Group and for even 10 nights you book, we get an average cost reward night, I have been quite happy with the rewards of almost 9 years of loyalty.

When seeking accommodation, we look for fully-furnished apartments with certain requirements, this demands apartment block information and the apartment inventory are detailed and frequently updated as things do change and sadly, this not always the case. We would rarely book a place where we are not sure of what the apartment contains on the main booking page or in the small print.

Things we note

We can probably trade-off on unlimited Wi-Fi as we have once had to use a Mi-Fi (mobile wireless Internet) when the landlord forgot to keep up with their Internet Service Provider subscription, however, the apartment must have a washing machine, probably with a dryer, a fully kitted kitchen with cooking plates, an oven, a microwave oven, utensils, crockery, cutlery, and other essential elements to make for a homely setting.

Sometimes, the inventory would not suffice and we are left with scrutinising the pictures of the apartment and views from it to see how it is furnished, the general layout, what and where things are installed and gleaning subtle detail as fixed showerheads or those on hoses, the furniture and the bathroom.

On location, Cape Town

Location is obviously important, we try to be within walking distance of the V & A Waterfront, and though we first stayed in the Foreshore area, we have tried out the Gardens, Mouille Point, Green Point and Sea Point. The apartment at the Gardens near the District Six Museum was quite spacious on the second floor, but the area seemed a bit precarious and unsafe, even if it was just 6 blocks up from a main police station. It has a draw, but we have not been persuaded to return.

Obviously, Mouille Point gave us the best views of the sea looking all the way to Robben Island, but the apartment needed some cleaning up before we could move in. The overworked manager who is desperately in need of help but probably too parsimonious to spend on the need to modernise and maintain his portfolio of apartments could do with some aspects of personal hygiene too, our first meeting left me quite crestfallen, I was afraid the last 17 nights of our stay would be in a hovel.

Just to get it right

We lodged our most complaints in a choice of 7 apartments at Sea Point and it was dire. Information on booking page suggested there was no lift in the apartment block and there was. I could have in the absence of a lift for a 3^rd floor accommodation decided on somewhere else. How whoever took the inventory missed the bathtub in the bathroom is totally beyond me.

Then, in the kitchen, there was no microwave oven, like whoever had stayed there before had never spent more than a couple of nights or did not have any inclination to order takeaways or warm meals, surely. Then when trying to cut some kitchen, I found there was no kitchen knife and then we had to go shopping for a knife after 8:00 PM on a Sunday night and we just about got a something slightly longer than a penknife.

The pots were aluminium bowls with handles for the pots or the lids, we needed a laundry basket and a clothesline, we should have asked for a table fan as there was no air-conditioning installed, though there was a gas heater; for Cape Town? I guess I too Northern hemisphere to think winter is Cape Town demands heating.

For convenience always

For our first 28 nights, we were not going to endure the absence of these essential things and it was 6 nights on before we got a useful pot, the microwave oven, a laundry basket and a dozen clothes hangars to supplement the mere 3 in the wardrobes.

When moving to another apartment we have an overlapping day, to check-in the day before we checkout where we are. It gives us time to move apart from allows us to make essential arrangements if necessary. The option to extend always exists, but we have found that for the third time moving apartments during our rendezvous helps give us a feel of the Cape Town and prepare us for our eventual move there.