Journey into the interior

Freedom was calling.  The convergence of a long weekend and a Home Exchange request from three Italians visiting Cape Town en route to AfrikaBurn, meant one thing:  Road Trip!

Andrew hauled out the unwieldy huge paper map which has all the roads we have travelled marked in red kokhi, and looked for a gap in the squiggles.  Our fingers landed on the tiny dot of Heidelberg, a small country village most famous for its petrol station.  And the attached Wimpy restaurant, of course.  We had whizzed past it umpteen times on our way to Sedgefield, but we have never  ventured off the National Road.  Why would we?  Our expectations were not high.

But it is a lovely little gem at the start of the Garden Route.  What we found was a beautiful, green country village, brimming with quirkiness, history and friendly people. We stayed in a unusual, hand built (by the owner) French styled chalet.  It was set in a garden of peacefulness.

  Perfect.  When we weren't eating or playing board games (no Scrabble or Crosswords this time!!) we sat in the garden and read our books.  We did stir our stumps to wander through the village, turning left at the railway line on day 1, and right on day 2.  Heidelberg is proud of its history - many of the buildings have information boards up and we could piece together parts of the Anglo Boer War conflicts that happened in the area. It was a complicated time in South African history, and one which casts long, dark shadows on British colonialism.  

One building in particular intrigued me.  It was a corner shop with Christmas decorations still in the window, despite Easter having just come and gone. (Perhaps its a place where time stands still.) It was not one of the most attractive buildings in the area, being drab and non descript.  I would have walked straight past it if it had not been for the information board. 

In 1901, the British opened fire on the Afrikaner Commando with casualties on both sides.  The British didn't want to admit that there had been losses on their side and so buried the bodies of three soldiers under the floorboards of this building.  Their skeletons were discovered when renovations took place, and the good people of Heidelberg held a Town meeting. They decided to leave the bones there and concrete over them, so I assume, they are still there.

The thing is, when South Africa became a Union in1910, Britain agreed to hand over all property and grounds to the new South African government with the exception of grounds where British soldiers were buried.  That means that this corner shop is technically on British soil.    How weird is that!

 We all have skeletons we have buried (don't we?) .  Often when renovating our lives we decide to leave them there and concrete over them.  That's ok, I think, as long as we remember they belong to foreign powers. I wonder though if the families of those three British soldiers would have been comforted to know what really happened to their sons, brothers and fathers.  Covering up old wounds is not always helpful for the survivors.  Sometimes admitting our losses rather than trying to pretend they didn't happen is the more helpful route.

Our road trip took us over little used mountain passes, through landscapes that morphed from verdant pastures to rocky outcrops.
It reminded me that adventures are easy to find close to home and that sometimes deviating from the main roads can take us on an enlightening journey of discovery.

 

Happy Human Year

 Alexa and I have been chatting quite a lot since we've been in the UK.  The banter is mostly about the weather - it is a key topic of conversation here, and it is easy to see why.  I have come to appreciate that weather plays a huge role in anyone's lifestyle.  I am missing the Cape Town sunshine, but was delighted to experience falling snow here on Saturday. 

 Saturday snow

The weather in the UK disrupts a lot - wind causes trees to fall and trains to stop, rain regularly floods roads and makes them impassable.  Snow and ice - so beautiful - are slippery and dangerous. The weather determines the Who Where and What of any occasion.  Alexa maintains a cheerful tone throughout her announcements, and she doesn't get irritated that I ask her multiple times a day for a forecast.

I do ask her other things as well, and depending on her connections she can be helpful or just plain stonewalling.  "I am unable to help you with that"  was her response to my asking her to clarify some politics.  We have encountered two Alexas on this trip.  We spent New Year in Cambridge at Tom and Hannah's apartment as we opted for an exchange within an exchange to enjoy some family time together. (If you are new to this blog, you might want to google HomeExchange to make sense of all this!) 

Cambridge cows

 

Alexa is marketed as a "virtual assistant" and I can see the convenience of voice activated commands.  We turn lights on and off, set timers, play music, get the latest news headlines, see who is at the front door, turn on the TV with a simple sentence. On a superficial level, two things bother me:  the tone of voice we tend to use when talking to AI (sharp and commanding!) and the needlessness of any politeness.  I worry, in an old mother grundy type way that, as the words please and thank you are superfluous to a machine, many people may forget to use them in other contexts. Will we become so used to talking to AI that we forget how to play nicely?

On a slightly more complex level, Alexa seems to me to be the perfect household spy. Everything we say is data .  As a wise person once said to me : " If it looks like you are getting something for nothing, YOU are the product." I presume most of the data is used for marketing purposes, as Google learns about what you like and who you are.  I don't really like that. I am not that comfortable with people knowing too much about me (says she writing a blog.)

I was given a book about introverts for Christmas by a person who knows me exceptionally well.  (The title is Sorry I am late, I didn't want to come by Jessica Pan.) The author decides to spend a year as an extrovert.  I admire her courage and determination, but I am not sure I could attempt the challenges she sets herself.  We all have different challenges I suppose, and, as I am still not into new years resolutions, I won't ask you what epiphanies you had on 31 December.  I had none.  I was content to enjoy the moment of being together as a family.

I will keep my eyes open this year, however, for opportunities.  I might nudge myself into uncharted territories, because I can't think of a reason not to.

I will also be on the look out for AI creeping into my life.  As much as I enjoy the novelty of Alexa, she is difficult to have a meaningful conversation with.  We need each other for that.

Let's make 2025 a happy human year.

 

Direction

 Landmarks give us direction.  I have been lucky enough to live my life using Table Mountain as my compass.  It is hard to get too lost in Cape Town - when in doubt, I can look up and see where I am in relation to the mountain's benevolent shadow, and I can breathe out.  I know where I am.

It is slightly more difficult here in south London.  It requires a lot more effort for me to determine which direction is north, and where (temporary) home is.

Andrew talking to our neighbour

  It is slightly out of my comfort zone.  Looking out of the bedroom window on the third floor, I can see horses grazing in the fields, and a wood beyond.  If I look up a bit more, I can also see the Shard, and that grounds me and gives me a sense of place.

We are living in someone else's home for December and January, and they in ours.  This house swap has been months in the planning.  It is an incredible opportunity to experience a different way of doing things for a bit. London is on our doorstep ( a 30 minute train ride) and beloved family are close by.  We can have lunch with our son during his lunch hour. 

On our way to lunch...

We can celebrate his turning 30 in Cambridge.  Our daughter has been to visit her cousin in Oxford.  We are making the most of creating special memories.  But we are also just living ordinary lives.  Andrew is working online.  We are catching up on sleep.  Sorting out the usual monthly admin. Watching TV.  There is less need to rush around using every precious minute like on previous visits because we have the luxury of time.

I have ambled through both the Tate, and the Tate Modern art galleries, soaking up the visual beauty.  We have been to Borough market a couple of time, and drank in the hustle and bustle and smells of the wonderful foods on offer.  And I have achieved a tick on a bucket list item (more about that in another blog.)

Getting around on public transport is not something I do at home.  The trains and buses  here are efficient and close by. The London underground however, confuses me direction wise.  That is where I fear getting lost the most.  There is absolutely no landmark in a tunnel to tell you where north is, or if you are going the right direction.  Thank goodness for apps that make me feel less disorientated.

Doing things differently is both exhilarating and challenging.  My sense of (self) direction has shifted this past year or so.  My landmarks have changed, and sometimes I gaze up and wonder where I am in my life.  Sometimes I get tunnel vision, and wonder if I am going the right direction.  There are two options that I can see - either create new landmarks to be my  Table Mountain, or just get on the tube and see what direction it takes me, knowing I can get off at the next station if  I want (so to speak.)  I haven't decided which option to take yet, or if I can combine the two.

In the meantime, happy travelling - at home or abroad- to you - and thank you for your company on the journey. 

En route to The Tate.  Cold and wet

Borough market on a quiet day!

London is beautiful at night.  It is dark by 4.30pm.  That takes quite a bit of getting used to!!

 

unbelievable

 

 Our home will be welcoming new custodians for the months of December and January. We have arranged  a house swap with a family from the UK.   This promises to be an adventure par excellence!  So it is time to sparkle the space and make it neat and tidy.  Most of it is, but our work areas tend to get creatively messy.  I have started the process of cleaning the blood, sweat and tears (quite literally, I'm afraid ) from the room in the roof which is where I do my glass work.

I have just finished a big project, which used lots of glass, lead came, putty, linseed oil, baby powder, nails, and solder. It also involved courage, most of my head space and quite a few plasters. I was asked by someone who has buckets more faith in my abilities than I do (thank you, Donna) to create new leaded panes for a shop front in Observatory.  A truck and a storm had destroyed the originals.

work in progress...

The task seemed Herculean from the outset, but I have so enjoyed the challenge and sense of accomplishment.  And I have learnt so much along the way.  Mostly about measurements and cutting and sourcing the right glass, but also about asking questions until I understand what's what and believing that I am capable.  

We fitted the three panels on Saturday.  Andrew's expertise, patience and unwavering support made this possible, especially as it turns out that old buildings have their foibles and glass is not bendy. 

We shaved off some of the lead came with my power sander, chiseled offending bits of the wooden frame and eventually it all fitted together.  It was a huge relief and I am delighted with the result.

The thing about glass is that it is both tough and fragile at the same time.  It can withstand  the rain and wind battering it, and provides a barrier keeping the outside separated from the inside.  But it is easily breakable, particularly if you step on an edge it seems.  (I had to throw that piece away.)  Cutting glass starts with scoring - essentially you create a flaw or weakness in the glass before using pliers to complete the break. 

I think there is a reason I enjoy working with glass so much.  I can identify with the medium.  I know what it is like to be tough and fragile simultaneously.  I understand the importance of a shield between external and internal.  Our scars are our weak points, and where we are most likely to break.  I get all that.  But I also get the beauty of glass - how it reflects and refracts light, how it amplifies and frames a viewpoint. People have innate beauty in them.  Sometimes the panes just need a gentle wash for us to see an unclouded version.

 Self doubt has often been my shadow.  I have sometimes felt unbelievable, or unheard, and that has, in the past, put speed bumps in my path.  But recently I have allowed myself to see the possibility of potential.  Thank you to those of you who have encouraged me.

TaDa!

 

 

 

 

And on we go....

 2023.  Are you ready for whatever is going to be flung at us this year?  For South Africans, the year has started with up to 10 hours every day without electricity.  And the most upsetting part of this is the feeling of powerlessness that comes with it.  Frankly, it scares me.  There is no way an economy can grow, or even survive, without the power to work.  And from here, it is pretty much down hill into a deep, inextricable mire of societal issues.  Even more than we face now.

Despite my gloomy start to this blog, my year actually started off Very Well.  As midnight rolled the years over, we - the 5 of us - were still eating the feast that our son and his partner (S) had prepared for us in Cambridge.

  And what a feast it was - scallops on cauliflower puree with pomegranate seeds, cheese souffle, roast beef with potatoes and asparagus, and a rich chocolate tart - all locally sourced ingredients  cooked to perfection. What an immense gift to start the year surrounded by my lovely family.

Christmas was just as special.  S was still in Cape Town, so the 4 of us spent the most relaxing, leisurely day celebrating love, and being together.  Some days are stand out moments in life.  This was one of them.

We spent most of our holiday in Cambridge itself.  It is a beautiful place, small enough to have most things in walking distance, and big enough to find new places to explore every day.  I love the cobbled streets, the river, the quirky sense of humour scattered around the place.

(Check out https://www.dinkydoors.co.uk/ as an example.)

And we had SNOW.  It dazzled and delighted us. How wonderful to be surrounded by blankets of white fields.

We took a lot of photographs because snow is a strange phenomenon for us at the bottom of Africa. 

We ventured into London twice. (There is an excellent parking app if anyone is needing that sort of info - people let out their driveways or front garden space for a day, and it is much cheaper and works much better than trying to park officially anywhere in the outer London area. Park at the edge of zone 2, and use the underground - it's quick and affordable....)  Our daughter had prepared a "treasure hunt" (my description, not hers) and mapped out a route to see the unusual side of London.  So we went to Hoxton to see a Monster Supply Store.

  (It's really a front for something far more sinister than monsters - it raises funds for creative writing courses.  Monsters won't scare the world, but creative writing just might).  We found, after much searching, because it is UNDER the Bloomberg Building, the Temple of Mithras.
We went to Novelty Automation (https://www.novelty-automation.com/). We explored St Dunstans, a casualty of the second world war. Another treasure was an Algerian coffee store that has been around since 1887. 

Our visit there was fleeting because our feet were sore and it was raining.  We did the mainstream stuff too - Hamleys, Burlington Arcade, Selfridges etc and rocked up home at a respectably late 11pm.

I am worried I am making you all a little jealous, so I won't go on and on about all the fabulous times we had, or the delicious pub meals, or seeing beloved family, or the hilarious games we played, or our trips to Leicester, Norwich and Surrey.  Or the London Christmas lights and atmosphere, or the quirky house we stayed in (The house swap thing worked well) I won't even mention the Kings Speech bingo, or the swans on the river Cam. And I will avoid stories about the snow wanderings and wood fires with mulled wine. Suffice to say, you would have wanted to be there too.

I seem to have written myself out of my load shedding bad mood.  Remembering all the good stuff is an important balance when life seems a bit dark.  The Monster Supply store is definitely onto something- creative writing is an excellent way to tame a Kraken.

With a bit of spit and polish, this old house will do nicely

 A few years ago we joined Home Exchange.  As implied by the name, it is a scheme to swap homes with another family anywhere in the world, to make holidays more affordable and comfortable.  We almost had our first swap a couple of years ago, but, you know, Covid...

 The angst that comes with leaving your home to strangers is real.  It's daunting. What if it isn't what they are expecting, despite the myriad of photos on the web?  We don't photograph the cracks or idiosyncrasies, do we. We wait for the light to be good, and take "best scenario" photos with the cushions plumped and slightly too short curtains gathered into a fetching pleat.

Or what about the practicalities? Friends who stayed in our house while we were away earlier this year, diplomatically pointed out that our house is, shall we say, "complicated". For us, it is just home, but for newbies getting the hang of the rain water toilet flushing system (and the pump decided to be glitchy just then) or that our hot water is solar panel heated except when it is too cold (and Eskom was making everyone's life difficult just then), or that our alarm is a little fussy about where on the pad you press the button (etc) can be challenging . We blip over all this stuff because we are used to our own muddles and systems, but for visitors it may require some explaining.

Which is why we are working on a home manual.  It includes all the basic information, and the quirks of the home: why our tortoises have to remain in their allocated garden sections; that a neighbouring cat likes jumping on the glass roof of one of the bedrooms (Alarmingly scary if you are not expecting it.) Or how some robins think this is actually their home, and fly in daily to see what's new and happening. Come to think of it , it is quite a long document.  (But indexed - order in chaos)

We are keen to go ahead with the house swap plan anyway.  We love our home, and hope whoever stays in it will love it too.

All this got me thinking.  According to good psychology, houses represent the Self in dreams.  And I wonder if the doubts about imperfections and quirkiness that I have about our home are similar to the doubts I have about myself.  I don't think I am alone here (or am I?) in thinking that sometimes we think we might disappoint others when they get to know the real deal, and not just the social or choreographed  images we share.  We all put on our "best scenario" selves in public, but what about the cracks and cobwebs?  Or perhaps I am too complicated, and sadly, no user manual can help with that - indexed or not.  External (what I look like, what I wear, for example) and internal (am I likeable, do I live my best) insecurities have almost always plagued me.  Nothing, and no-one is perfect, and that is something I can celebrate (yes, celebrate!) more and more the older I get.

I have a few houses that crop up in recurring dreams - one on a distant hill, one on a suburban road - the ying and yang of my life. And I still have dreams about projects I want accomplish and places I want to see in this vast world.  So house swapping seems like a really good idea.   Apparently a lot of home owners share my angst about their homes being suitable - there are lots of FAQ on the topic.

 With a bit of spit and polish, this old house will do nicely.