Posted August 19, 2022: I need a reason to post more photos, so let me share a little more of Johannesburg and Cape Town. As I’ve written before, our Johannesburg arrival was traumatic (well, only for me I guess) but a few nice things happened in our time there. We were in a fancy suburb which wasn’t the plan, but, you know…there’s always a good side. Turns out one of Sara’s favorite clothing store of recent years, and a favorite of mine from a long-ago visit to New Zealand, was nearby in that big shiny mall next to our small shiny hotel. Cotton On. So what could we do but shop? After all, we had been in the wilds, only communing with nature, for three weeks. And then there was the previously mentioned spacious and well-stocked bookstore right there. Last but definitely not least, next door, waiting for new sweaters and books, a luggage shop with a 30% off sale. Result, I gave my two very small suitcases to the hotel housekeepers and bought a Big Red French Suitcase. See.

Here’s the best story. I’ve been to Soweto several times, and have come to think of it as where some of my talented and successful dance friends grew up in ordinary homes, and where an elegant art center looks out over what is now one of Africa’s larger cities, the formerly infamous township of Soweto. I very much wanted Sara to experience it, but I was thinking more of Soweto’s successes and less of its harrowing past as the wretched chunk of land to which blacks were relegated during apartheid. Fortunately Celia and Sara picked a tour that promised personal and historical stories and, it being a freezing day and me being mildly ill, I decided to stay in bed. That turned out perfectly; I would have pushed my narrative on them, while on their tour, they were told the stories of Soweto’s past, and what that place meant in terms of horror and hope for so many. Sara was deeply moved, and it may well have changed her whole perspective on the world for good.

A short hop to Cape Town and, to some degree, another world. South Africa Lite as it’s fondly called. We had booked a lovely apartment and intended to relax. Sara and I managed a grand photo op. A must when in Cape Town, taking the tram to the top of Table Mountain and having a wander.

 While I think Cape Town is lovely, I don’t really have any emotional attachments there (no dance festivals), except for Clarke’s Bookshop, of which I’ve written previously. I was pushing Robben Island but my companions weren’t ready to put it on the top of their list. Celia had art contacts for her work, and she and Sara attended a dance performance. My only outings were the Company’s Garden (oldest cultivated urban garden in South Africa, originally created in the 1650s by the region’s first European settlers, to grow fresh produce for the trading ships making the long journey around the Cape) with Celia (an obsessive duck feeder) for a lengthy stroll and tasty lunch, and then, of course, a visit to Clarke’s.

We think we can order any book in the world on line these days. That’s only partially true. First of all, without extensive research, we have no way of knowing what’s available out there in the wide world unless it is by a major author. And, let’s face it, the majority of the best fiction and non-fiction of any country is not what’s on any best-seller list. Some of my favorite books have come from obscure bookstores in Singapore, on Zanzibar, and other far-flung places, Sometimes the English language books will be few, whereas in heavily English-speaking countries like South Africa they are plentiful.

The other problem is, if you find these must-have books and do not buy them, and they are books that will likely not be published in the UK or US for some time, it will cost a minor fortune to ship them. I tried to order three books from Clarke’s in addition to the ones I brought home; for $50+ worth of books the postage was going to be roughly $130. So be sure and buy the book when and where you see it.

Recipes for Love and Murder and The Satanic Mechanic (Sally Andrew) are not usually my cup of tea…so to speak. They are what’s known as cozy mysteries, and I’m addicted to all things dark and murderous, so this genre generally seems a little too…well…light and cozy. However, Andrew’s stories take place in the Klein (Little) Karoo, the fascinating region of southern South Africa we were about to tour, and they seemed like the perfect read for the occasion. Turns out they were. Even with lots of traditional South African recipes and friendly animals and simple pleasures surrounding the murders, the series doesn’t ignore the basic stuff of lives lived in better and worse circumstances. There’s an intriguing juxtaposition of sexual abuse and doilies, dead bodies and recipes for milk tart, stories rich with the natural and human environment of the area. Now I must figure out how to get the other two volumes in the series so I can extend my time in what is truly spectacular country…more about that in the next post.