Breakfast at the Deli

Had breakfast at Olympia Cafe & Deli in Kalk Bay today. Sweaty runners and cyclists in those ghastly pants jostled for position with the less sporty of us. Bicycles valued at thousands of Rands were stacked against the wall. Fractious toddlers whinged and kicked at table legs under disapproving glares. Prams clogged the spaces between tables. Flames shot up high from the grill where grillhands tirelessly churned out plate after plate of freshly prepared delights. The buzz of animated conversation drowned out the clatter of dishwashing in the kitchen. All in a space of about 30sq m.  With waiters clearing and serving.

That's what brings people back again and again. Exceptional food (to die for!), no bookings (put your name on the board), friendly service (they recognise you), a fascinating mix of people (you always see someone you know) and, if you remember to look, a spectacular view over the harbour and across False Bay.  The decor hasn't changed in 30 years - in fact there isn't any - but nobody cares.  I doubt whether anyone leaves there dissatisfied with the experience.

Kommetjie #4

It's spring tide under a new moon in Kommetjie.  Below the lighthouse, a vast expanse of slippery, seaweed covered flat rock is exposed at the lowest tide and everyone is down there to do the things they can only do at springtide. Mussel pickers are filling their bags with black mussels which cling to the rocks, usually safely protected by the shore break, but are now high and dry. The flat rocky ledge is the top of a sea cliff which drops straight off into deep water. Skilled crayfishermen stand with their bamboo poles, a bait bag attached to the end having been lowered into the depths to lure the crayfish to an easy meal. A catch net is at the ready to grab the crayfish which drop off the bait as they are lifted from the water.  A little way off shore, those who can afford a boat are also chasing after red gold.   Young girls lie on the rocks soaking up the sunshine.  Children are gazing into rock pools, paddling in the icy water.  Dogs splash past them on their way to the next seagull. A diver rises from the kelp and clambers onto the ledge, his bag full of crayfish - a successful dive for dinner.
  No sounds disturb the scene - everyone is going about their business without interfering in anyone else's.  All is calm under the lighthouse. A drift of air from the sea keeps us cool as we clamber over the rocks and make our way back home along the boardwalk.
  In an hour's time, the sea will once more cover the rocky ledge and the sunbathers, dogs, children and fishermen will have to retreat from its advance until the next spring low. It is easy to forget that the scene is so different in winter when the north-west gales rage around the Cape. That is the fascination of the sea. I never grow tired of it.

Kommetjie #3

I'm sitting on the rocks at Kommetje in the late afternoon of a balmy early summer's day.  The lowering sun casts a peach light on the rocks which are exposed by the very low tide. It's almost full moon and it looks as though someone has pulled the plug out and the water has all drained away.  The waves swell gently through the kelp beds on their relentless journey to the shore, the wallowing kelp heads glistening in the soft light. The view across the bay towards the back of Table Mountain is as stupendous as ever, changing every day with the movement of the sun.

There isn't a soul in sight - what a treat. Absolute silence except for the sighing of the sea and the calls of the hundreds of birds which live here on the island during summer.   They are all going about their business -
terns wheel and bank in their distinctive flight. A pair of oyster catchers guard their territory. Two egrets appear to be doing a courtship dance. In the Kom, gulls are picking at the remnants of last week's sardine run.

The sea is calm today, ordered waves rolling in and breaking at precisely the same spot, the crests blowing off in the wind. The sun luminesces through the swells as they peak, picture perfect.

What a place to be.

A Clovelly Childhood #2

Christmas is the time that the clan gathers and when we were young it was usually in Clovelly, at my family home.  There is a large cemented area where about 30 people can comfortably gather (appropriately called The Big Piece of Cement). An ancient vine covers a pergola, providing shade for the last hours of sunlight in this sheltered corner of the garden and the view across the golf course and the Fish Hoek mountains and sanddunes is spectacular as always.  An old home movie has been converted and put onto our computers so that we can once more enjoy seeing ourselves 40+ years ago.  There I was, in a purple outfit my mother had made (she made all our clothes, a very skilled needlewoman) which consisted of a long top covering hotpants, which were barely visible, making it look on the movie as though I was wearing a daring micro mini. It was the early 70s and the men all had sideburns and long hair and the aunts and uncles were so young!
  Seeing myself in that outfit took me back in an instant to that Christmas Day 40 years ago.   I went to visit my good friend, Mandy (Hi, Mandy, in Australia, remember that day? You made a movie of us and that is why I know I was wearing the purple outfit.) We were playing darts outside and I looked up at the mountain and saw a thin wisp of smoke rising from the other side.  The southeaster was blowing fiercely over False Bay and the fire spread and burned all day and night.  There was great excitement in Clovelly because the first house in the path of the fire was thatched and had to have its own fire engine.  Hundreds of sightseers clogged the road, getting in the way of the firefighters and causing pandemonium.  We were warned to be prepared to evacuate our house if the flames came any closer, but fortunately the wind died down and we weren't in danger.  There were a few close calls for other residents and it came to light that the fire had been started by a sailor from a visiting British ship, who went back to his ship and sailed away, leaving us with a devastated mountainside and incinerated reptiles. I wonder if he ever thinks about it?

 

Tales of Europe #1

As someone who has to plan even the shortest outing around the ease of access to a toilet, I can quite safely say that I have no qualms about a short trip into the bushes at the roadside and the call of nature can be answered by a brief scan of the environment for snakes, scorpions or ants' nests. However, the densely crowded cities of Europe provide sparse access to suitable vegetation and you are forced to use public facilities.  Being used to the freely available toilets at every garage, shopping mall and restaurant in South Africa, it was surprising to find that you had to pay for using public conveniences in Europe. How can they be convenient if you don't have 1 euro on you?
    Suddenly there is nothing more important to you than getting into that toilet. As you dig frantically in every pocket for coins, you break out in a light sweat. Perhaps you can get rid of it that way?  No. The deepest recesses of that huge tote bag you thought would be so useful could hold the kitchen sink, but no small change. Suddenly the rose bushes outside the toilets seem quite enticing. But no again. Too many people around.
    The lady taking the money seems unmoved by your agitation or attempts to ask for change as you hand over 2 euros. A R25 piddle. It costs more to get rid of it than to drink the water in the first place.
    So if you see people lurking in rose bushes and behind tree trunks in Europe, don't be alarmed.  They aren't about to mug you. They're tourists carrying Cash Passports and credit cards, not loose change.

Sssnake ssstory

 Mom and Dad saw the cobra for the first time this summer.  It lives a little way up in the garden and has a hole that he goes into when he doesn't want us to see him.  He is about 6 feet long and we don't know which generation he belongs to.  We have always had snakes in our garden in Clovelly.  There is no fence between us and the mountain and a variety of wildlife roams freely through the garden, eating Mom's cherished plants and leaving only their droppings for identification.  But the snakes have always been the exciting part.  As children we would play on the mountain and often come across snakes, particularly puffadders which never bothered to get out of our way.  They are not at all frightened of people. Many a time we would rush back down to tell Mom about the snake that was lying in a crevice of the rock we were climbing. But most of the excitement has occurred in the garden itself. 

 The cobra has been around for about 20 years as a permanent resident, coming to feed on frogs at the fish pond near the back door. From time to time he is taken away and released on the mountain far from houses.  He either comes back or there are many more than we think.  Sometimes he ventures to other parts of the garden and we are startled as we go around a corner and see him lying in the sun on the path, warming his golden body.  Another favourite spot is a large flat area at the top of the steps which go up to the house next door.  It's a source of some amusement to see unsuspecting visitors going up these stairs and then spotting the snake as they reach eye-level on the steps.  One step forward and three steps back!  The postman stopped delivering post up there many years ago.

 It's been a privilege to grow up in a place where we can learn to respect nature and in Clovelly we have been brought up to appreciate birds, snakes, porcupines, buck and even the odd baboon.  None of us have ever been harmed over the years, which proves that giving them their space and the necessary caution enables humans and animals to interact and not overreact, in comfortable co-existence.

High cost of living

My son had an emergency appendectomy this week.  It started with agonising pain, which was diagnosed as gastroenteritis despite not having those symptoms.  Two injections and some pills and off to bed.  That night, he is writhing in pain. I phone the doc (he answered!) and asked if he had tested for appendicitis. Yes, but the symptoms weren't presenting. 3.30am more writhing and a temperature. Off to the doc first thing - sends off blood test just to make sure (apparently 60% of appendectomies are done in error) and by mid-day we are off to the surgeon. Within 45 minutes, my son is in theatre and is there for an hour and a half while they clean up the poison from the ruptured appendix. He is subsequently in hospital for a further 4 days and told he was in a bad way and is a very lucky young man (is this a reference to having survived?). Still on painkillers and antibiotics for another 10 days.
The point of this story:  I got the anaesthetist's bill.  On it are 2 items for after-hours and away from rooms attendance.  I phoned the accounts lady and queried this. She informed me that if you have an emergency operation, the doctor is allowed to charge certain extra fees for having shifted his existing appointments. Question from me: Can you reschedule an emergency operation to an appointment and if so, will those charges fall away?
Answer:  Errr, yeeess? 
Q: Is the purpose of an emergency operation so that you do not die before the appointment?
A: Errr, yeeess? 
Q: So we are being penalised for the inconvenience of having a life-threatening emergency? 
A: Well, I suppose if you put it that way....
Q: Who has set these fees?
A:  A medical authority.
Q:  Do they have a brain?
A:  It doesn't seem like it... 
Q:  Would you like to have an emergency operation?
A:  Not really...
Q:  So you agree that this is just an excuse to raise an extra fee because nobody will choose to die rather than live?
A:  It seems like it....

So there you have it - the high cost of living.