I broke a front tooth a week ago. Not earthshattering, or not worth a tweet, I would have thought. But the broken tooth led to a trip to my dentist in the centre of Cape Town. The trip into the city led to a long wait for a lift home. The long wait led to my taking my camera in with me, and a morning wandering around the city photographing whatever took my fancy.
I had forgotten how I loved the early morning walk from the station to the office, Cape Town waking to its day, stalls being loaded, the shoe-shine man calling for customers while sipping a cup of coffee. This time, completely alone, I had four hours to do what I wanted, when and where I wanted, and I rediscovered the magic of the metropolis. I had recently edited an article on Senegal – so made a new friend in St George’s Mall when a smiling stall-keeper who came from Dakar and I could talk about his home town. Spent time with Jack from Malawi and his bright and lovely artworks, visited the flower sellers and was awed all over again by St George’s Cathedral, to say nothing of the other old and beautiful buildings that pepper this square kilometre of architecture.
St George’s café in the crypt made the best cappuccino I’ve tasted in ages, very necessary after a couple of hours of looky-looking. No time for the Company's Garden, I’m afraid, that will have to wait for next time, and next time will be very soon.
By lunch time my legs would not walk another step. But the feeling had come back to my mouth and to me – mine for this beautiful city that I call home.
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