The End of the Beginning

My days at work are numbered, as are my days with internet access. I'm hoping to keep posting in Mozambique, but I might also take a little hiatus, so check back in a month.

I'm really excited about leaving, but a little sad as well. I felt the same when I left Rhodes. This is a concrete end to one part of my life, and the beginning of another. It would be wrong if I wasn't a bit sad.

But I will miss Cape Town. I'll miss:

The Mountain, and its serenity, its steadfastness, its ability to keep me going in the right direction. Seriously - no matter what city I'm in, I automatically search the skyline for a familiar landmass to orientate myself by. Without the mountain I have no idea what direction I'm facing. I forsee much getting lost in my future.

Butler's Pizza, the i-ching of pizza. You can keep your Debonairs, your Scooters. Give me a standard olive, salami, garlic and avo guacamole, the hottie delivery guy and check back in the morning.

The trains, although they might be late. I'll miss the hawkers with their "chipsy, juicy, spookies" and the evangelists; the one on the way home who likes to talk about burning in hell, a lot, and the one on the way in who calls everyone beloved. The policemen who travel in packs of five, taking free rides but not actually keeping an eye on anything. The two guide dogs who carefully conceal themselves under the seats but can't resist sniffing at every passerby, even if they are "professional animals".

Stardust. Theatrical dining. Brilliant margaritas. Best birthday ever.

The flower sellers on Adderley street, who look like they come from a previous century.

Newlands cricket stadium. The sight of the pitch still gives me a thrill and makes me think of my first game there with The Father - Brian Lara out for a duck; Jacques Kallis scoring a century.

Driving to Simon's Town along the coast, with the mountain climbing steeply on one side and the sea rough on the other. The lovely old Victorian mansions and tiny fishermen's cottage. I won't miss the hordes of tourists though.

Swimming of Boulder's Beach with the penguins shooting through the water nearby.

The seals chilling on their platforms at the waterfront, and yelling at each other when someone tramples on a flipper.

The view of the city from De Waal drive, especially at night. The lights are so beautiful.

The waterfall in Cecilia Plantation.

Going to build houses and getting covered in cement

Taxis and all the hilarity associated with them. The guards, many of whom appear to be stoned. Being tightly packed between two huge people while travelling at 100km an hour in rush hour traffic. Being nominated as the person who makes change when the guard buggers off to parts unknown. Holding a complete stranger's bag of frozen chicken on your lap to make more room.

Hearing English, Afrikaans, Swahili, French, Xhosa and German, all in one trip to work.

Seeing Table Moutain from the window of the plane and feeling a lurch, because this home and always will be.