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Posts Tagged ‘Cape Town’

The benifits of looking after your parents house whilst they are in Germany are many. There’s the fact that you can turn the heater on without feeling too guilty. The fact that the lounge isn’t tiled. The swimming pool in summer. The DSTV. And that I can watch America’s Next Top Model in glorious 32″ LCD flatscreen glory. Beautiful.

Last week the redheaded stepchild was sent home. I liked her, in the way that she had balls. Unfortunately I also strongly suspect that she was a lesbian, and she may have been sent home after peeking at the other girls in the shower. I’m only saying it because no-one else is. But that was last week.

This week’s ‘skill’ the girls had to learn was the art of multi-tasking. ‘Task’ might be a bit of a strong word though. What they had to do, was walk down a catwalk (already a challenge for some), and take off a jacket. At the same time. The poor girls made it seem like a very difficult task indeed. So, to see just how difficult it was, I walked to the kitchen and took off my nightgown (at the same time! And yes, I wear a nightgown. Do you know how cold it is?). No problem. I then made myself a coffee, put on the robe and then, whilst walking back to lounge, had not one, but several sips of coffee. I am totally America’s Next Top Model.

Multi-Tasking. Even this guy can do it. AND he took the picture.

Multi-Tasking. Even this guy can do it. AND he took the picture.

Earlier on in the evening I bumped into MusicLady on Twitter, and we had a great Twitter dissing session whilst the show was happening (I know. I need a life). Her contribution to the girl’s general lack of basic motor control: “they are retards. youre taking off a jacket, not assembling a rocket ship! tools!” What amused me even more than the girls not being able to walk, was the extend to which the tranny runway coach was either hungover or coming down from whatever drugs. It was beautiful. Almost as beautiful as the flamboyant, homosexual, bald, pencil-moustached, overweight twins which followed.

This led to the mini challenge, which was essentially, once again, a wonderful exercise in stereotyping. The challenge took place in a church, and the girls were outfitted in clothing best described as NunSlut. Right from the over-zealous black minister to the hand fans held by the audience, I had swallow the little bit of puke that made it up the back of my throat.

Meanwhile, back at the palace of all things Tyra, Nnenna was once again on the phone to her boyfriend. For hours. This obviously pissed Brooke off, leading to her spewing the hatred of: “What makes her special, she’s from Africa. Well go back to Africa then!” Oh bitchy bitchy Brooke. You just can’t say things like that. Especially if you come from Texas. People will make assumptions.

This is the best picture based joke of Texas I could find. Sorry.

This is the best picture based joke of Texas I could find. Sorry.

But now for the scariest part. The final photo shoot.

For this shoot the girls had to model a pair of shoes (all of which were fugly as shit). Cool, no problem. We can do shoes. The girls were then told that for this shoot they would have to dance. Cool, no problem here either. The style of dancing would be something known as crumping, a form of hip-hop dancing featuring clowns. Wait, what? Did I just use hip-hop and clown in the same sentence? I think I did.

Now imagine this, dancing to hip-hop.

Now imagine this, dancing to hip-hop.

I struggled to find a good definition for crumping. You know, one that will tell me the influences of the dance, certain moves, etc. I couldn’t find any. Urbandictionary did however provide me with an excellent alternative definition:

Crumping The act of dressing up as a crumpet. Covering yourself with butter and jam and then through a series of dance like shaking movements attempting to remove them before your competitors.
Man that was the worst crumping I have ever seen, you were as fresh as just out of the packet.
So besides hardcore clown dancing, the ladies managed to get some nice shots of the ugly shoes. When it came to elimination time and Tyra put on her serious voice, Jade’s ego got inflated just a little bit more, and Leslie got sent home.

Which one was Leslie?
Oh yeah, that one. See what I meant with the clowns?

Oh yeah, that one. See what I meant with the clowns?

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Last night I went and fetched Betsy, my aging but faithful old lady car, out of her garage. After about 45 min of struggle to get enough juice into her battery to get her going, I headed out to Cape Town, to go and see some friends that I haven’t seen in a very long time. That part of my story is a little bit irrelevant. But, should you ever need a very funky place to start your evening off, I highly recommend the bar slash restaurant at the Hotel Fire and Ice. It’s really cool.

Having both feet firmly stuck in Stellenbosch, and Betsy not behaving at the best of times, it’s not all that often that I find myself in Cape Town (Aside from the occasional visit to my parents, I hardly ever get into the bright lights and the big city). So behold my surprise, when driving on the N2 around the airport area, to see actual houses. That’s right. Not a lot of them, but they definitely weren’t there a while back. Which means only one thing: The ruling party is trying it’s best to convince us, just before election, that they are actually capable of pulling finger and doing something for the people that elected them.

Phase 2, nor phase 3: She won't subsidise it. Credit: GIANLUIGI GUERCIA/AFP/Getty Images

Phase 2, nor phase 3: She won't subsidise it. Credit: GIANLUIGI GUERCIA/AFP/Getty Images

Many dismiss this as too little, too late. And to a certain degree, this is true. Not wanting to support the ANC, but something clearly is being done, albeit very slowly. The fact remains that despite the countless people who still live in shacks, there are now people that have a proper roof over their head. The change isn’t very big, but every dent helps. I always get a little irritated when people say that our ruling party does nothing. I must say, I was very impressed on my recent trip to the Transkei, to see that no matter where in the Transkei you are, you always seem to be at least 15-20km a clinic, many times even closer. Still a sizable walk in a place where not many people have cars, but it’s a start. Perhaps we should have an election every year.

I am by no means advocating that this is nearly enough, but with it being so close to election day, it seems that far too many people have jumped on the Let’s-Hate-The-ANC bandwagon. What happened to seeing the positive side in our country. It’s there. All you need to do is look. If you feel better change can come with a different party, then vote so. It is true that there is corruption – there will always be corruption, whether you are an African nation, a European nation, or an American nation. Corruption will always exist where there is human nature involved.

Another aspect of my trip that seriously impressed me was the infrastructure upgrades. Having not driven in the De Waal Drive/Hospital Bend area in a long time, it was seriously impressive to see the work that has been done. Which brings me to this:

Green Point Stadium, under construction

Green Point Stadium, under construction

Now you must admit: That’s one sexy friggin’ piece of engineering. And, last night, whilst releasing a light sweat as I waited in line for a police roadblock, I got a brilliant view of what it looks like at the moment. It’s meant to set like 68 000 people. To put that into perspective, that’s 3 times the number of students currently at Stellenbosch University (including med students and military students). That, my friends, is a lot of vuvuzelas. The progress that’s been made on the stadium looks way better than the picture above, and the final product is set to look like this:

The finished product: Sexy.

The finished product: Sexy.

Man, I love this country. In it’s own, strange, African, somewhat offbeat kind-of-way, there’s just something so awesome about this place. Hell yeah.

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Right, so I’ve decided to give this blog thing a go, and see if the world is at all interested in the goings on in the life of a 22 year-old, living in Stellenbosch. So here goes, oddly enough, in Cape Town.

This weekend, I decided to take a break from the hecticness of lectures, first year’s with tight bodies and little clothing, and in fact remove myself from Stellenbosch completely. I decided to have a weekend of free food, big bed, DSTv and a big TV, by spending the time with my parents. It has been a while since our last contact session, and it’s always good to put in a bit of facetime, especially for the benifits on the side, like a couple of free groceries. But main issue I wanted to discuss in this blog was the movie I saw today – Slumdog Millionaire.

My parents invited me to come along on their sometime ritual of Sunday morning movies at Cavendish. They decided on Gran Turino, and seeing as I wasn’t in the mood for a tightly-jawed, wrinkled and mumbling Clint Eastwood being mean and racist, I decided to bite the hype, swallow the oscar buzz and see Slumdog Millionaire.

I can understand how some would find the film superfantastique, but I wasn’t convinced. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a delightful story, about an orphan boy from Mumbai who appears on the Indian version of Who wants to be a Millionaire, and the film starts off with him one question away from winning the main prize of 20 million rupees. The show ends, and he will answer the winning question the next day. Meanwhile, he gets arrested on suspicion of cheating, and through his torture and interrogation the audience find out how the events throughout his life give him the answers to every question. There’s also a bit of a love story, and a troubled relationship with his brother. There’s poverty, orphans, and the Taj Mahal. Unfortunatly, the song that seems to be stalking me (M.I.A. – Paper Planes), also makes an appearance.

All in all, the movie ends and you get the expected warm and fuzzy feeling, but other than that I didn’t think it was all that special. D0n’t get me wrong, it isn’t a crap movie, but all the hype and publicity may have stolen a little bit of it’s soul. I still enjoyed it though.

Tonight, I get to see how the political parties embarrass themselves again, and that shall be the subject of tomorrow’s post. Until then.

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