Wednesday, June 13, 2012

The Big Adventures of Three Little People

"To live would be an awfully big adventure"- Peter Pan

On the 13th of June,at 7:35,Rebekah,Daniel and I braved the cold Winter's morning to embark on a shopping mission to Oriental Plaza in Central Johannesburg. We started out just as we would on any other expedition. Armed with hot water bottles and flasks of tea,we piled into the reliable old Jetta and headed off into the mist. With Daniel at the wheel and Rebekah navigating,things went as per usual with missed turn offs and illegal U-turns. Rebekah has,since then, been nominated for The World's Worst Navigator Award while Daniel will soon be decorated with The World's Most Relaxed and Placid Driver medal. 

We moseyed along the highways,three unsuspecting travelers who thought they were at the start of a regular day of shopping. At a particularly busy intersection, Daniel tore off his hat and gloves and said to Rebekah "Hold my fluffies!!!This is getting serious!!!" This statement,followed by yet another illegal U-turn, was a clear sign that this was no ordinary day. 

Our first stop,which we reached after much turning and driving in dodgy areas, was Oriental Plaza. Oriental Plaza is a collection of shops owned mostly by oldish Indian men. Some shops are amazing. Some are not so amazing. One is called Minty's. Yes,really. Maybe the clothes smell great. Or something. One shoe shop was named OOZ. Like ooze,but misspelled. One Bridal shop was called Honey Bee Florist and sold absolutely no flowers. It did, however, have a sink in the corner of the shop. In case you get your hands dirty in there. A children's clothing shop was called Funky Kids. Another Bridal shop serenaded us with the reading of the Torah while we browsed through the plastic cake toppers and blue incense holders. One shop was rather upscale, with crisp suits and beautifully designed waistcoats. Finally, a decent shop... This illusion was shattered by a hand written sign boasting that they sold "The Best Special Trouser." This best-special-trouser was a light cotton baggy elastic banded pair of pants. Because that's exactly what every bride longs to see her groom dressed in as walks up the aisle to her happily ever after.

At one point in the morning, we lost Daniel,only to find him again in a spice shop,sniffing the air. After informing the owner that his shop smelled really good, he took a few more sniffs and we carried on way. Besides interesting shop names and questionable music, we saw several ""No Spitting" signs, a "baby shop" that sold candles and kitchenware, a bookshop that sold cards and Chinese element wind chimes, a lot of fake flowers, odd Indian shoes (which Rebekah tried on) and smelled at least twenty brands of incense.

After that cultural experience, we set off to find the Chinese Mall, which tuned out to be called the Dragon Something Or The Other. The "mall" which was honestly more of a warehouse,was designed in a way akin to the passages of the catacombs. That is,there was hardly any design at all. It was as though some one had  dropped a few rooms at random and connected them with passages and when those were filled up they added another haphazard story,connecting the two with a ramp-like structure that spiraled downwards. To make the addition more official,a large sign proudly stated, Dragon City, Phase 1,2,3,, and so on till a collections of shops merged together to form a building of ridiculous proportions. To save on space,the areas outside the little shops were used as storage areas,so that your stroll through a mall became a climb through boxes of cheap plastic jewelry and naked mannequins.

Besides the suffocating claustrophobia of the place,the smell was indefinably WEIRD.  In one little shop that sold beaded hair clips,plastic bowls and sex tea, Daniel exclaimed "This place smells like I wanna die!" Our thoughts exactly. Upon entering, the place smelt like some one was frying rice. Which,being that it was owned by Chinese people,was quite possible. At some point, however,some must have decided it was time to cook the meat dish and thrown the cat on the wok, because the starchy smell of rice was no more. Needless to say,we did not linger.On our way out, we passed a man selling boots to a lady,shouting "It is less spend,more buy!!!". 
On the bright side,there were quite a few Chinese babies toddling around. Had I been alone, I certainly would have acquired an addition to my family. Rebekah and Daniel don't agree with my theory of Surprise Adoption,so the children remained in the care of their parents.

Mercifully, our day was saved from being a complete misadventure by The Best Restaurant In The World. It was so amazingly wonderful,that it will have it's very own blog post. We ate lunch at this small Indian restaurant with a black doorman and coloured car guards. After encouraging Daniel into his parking space with "Little reverses,little ones" and "Number one!!" these men assured us that the car would be watched with "every eye". Upon emerging from the restaurant,changed people,all three of us, one man loudly exclaimed "It is the Jetta UNTOUCHABLE!" The car was indeed still intact and the man received a generous tip.

The ride home was quiet and sleepy compared to the adventures of the day. A mushroom cloud in the distance was the only interesting sight that entertained us on our journeys. The conversation was lazy and theories of a possible neclear attack were pondered upon. The lethargy was briefly disturbed by an enthusiastic singing along to Hot Chelle Ray's "Tonight".
All in all it was a peaceful ride through the smoggy sunset. And so the big journey of three little people came to an end to the faded words of la la la...whatever....la la la...oh well...




Monday, June 11, 2012

Dear Nobody,Letter #3

"Memories ~ they can sometimes become vague and foggy and there are times when they disappear altogether.
Therefore, because there are many things I don’t want to lose track of, I will record everything in here for the sake of those moments that should not be forgotten."
-Haruka's Diary


Dear Nobody,


I have lately been contemplating certain habits. One habit that I am unable to shake is that of obsessively journalling. I do believe I have a fear if forgetting. Some part of me seems to believe that if I forget something,it will be as though that piece of life was never lived. This ridiculous belief is also the reason I am becoming increasingly interested in photography and film making. Both provide the tools to eternally capture a moment and keep it there. And yet...


What is memory really? What makes a moment pause in time. While I can record each detail on paper, or capture a moment on film, I cannot save the way a day smelt or how the felt in a certain moment. And that's what life is, isn't it? It's feeling and smelling and tasting and seeing and hearing. 


One day, some one might find my journals. Perhaps you, darling Nobody. To date, about ten lined notebooks of roughly 192 pages in each. Some written in beautiful penmanship, some scrawled all over in different coloured pens, each filled with notes about my day and those who filled it. That person,however good their imagination, will never live what I have lived. They can read details, hear things from my point of view, but they will never know how I really felt that day.


People can look at my photos, but not see what I saw. No one will really ever understand why I took twenty photos of the same brick in the wall or just what fascinates me about dandelions.


I think, dearest Nobody, what I am trying to tell you in amongst the ramblings of my mind, that the best thing to do is to live each moment so intensely, that even if I were to forget the exact details of the moment, I would always be 100 percent certain that I HAVE indeed lived each moment that has passed. Perhaps it is alright to let some things become foggy and vague in the vault of my min, as long as they were bright and brilliant as they occurred.


So here's to living each moment fully up,to being memorable even if unremembered,to memories,the forgotten and the remembered,the recorded and the unwritten. And to you Dear Nobody,for reading the confused jumble of my mind.


So,till my next letter, I will be here,making memories worth telling you about. And you will be out there,wherever you are,being you. Goodbye Nobody.


Me