Weekend in Jozi

Not easy — and there is a lot of distance to cover. In spite of the bustle and urgency of the city everyone I am with takes ages to leave their houses. Alarms have to be set, garage doors and gates opened and closed, rubbish put out, security checked and checked again.
I came into the city on a Jo’burg commuter taxi.  It was mid afternoon and not crowded and the R9 fare into down town was a bargain. (a private taxi would have cost me around R300!) It took a while to work out the sign language — pointing a finger into the air indicated free space in the taxi as well as for a prospective passenger to flag a ride.
Seemingly less lawless than back home, the driver actually pulled off the road to pick up people. Passengers passed their fares to the front, working out change between themselves. It was all very quiet and calm, totally contrary to my expectations.
I then borrowed a car and spent the first couple of days getting acquainted with the GPS guiding system which we named Polly. We had some disagreements at first  which made us dub her a GPA (instead of a GPS) — partly because of her apparent confusion about direction with a simultaneous determination to continue on track come what may! Things improved as we got used to each other though I found it difficult to listen blindly to directions — “in 450 metres turn left then keep right” — without really knowing where I was being taken.
Onto the high-speed motorway or through a red light district because it was the direct route. Someone told me a story of a GPS leading her into a dam — because a breaking flood hadn’t made it into the computer memory. I guess there is always a need for common sense (and a map) alongside the latest technology.
I did a lot of driving — and a lot of eating both in homes and restaurants. First day, when we were still getting used to GPA Polly, we went for breakfast at 44 on Stanley — a trendy square close to the CBD — lined with upmarket boutique shops specialising in quirky gifts and decor, an extensive second hand bookstore worth hours of browsing, and a very good artisanal bakery offering Italian ciabatta and very tempting pastries.
Parking seemed impossible but we were skillfully directed into what looked like an illegal space by someone wearing a bright neon warning jacket. We shared poached eggs, served on toasted ciabatta and spinach, with a deliciously creamy and tangy hollandaise sauce (R50) accompanied by apple and ginger juice (R28) and a couple of cappuccinos. It was a good start to the day.
Jo’burg mid-range restaurant prices are similar to Harare, but as a general rule quality is better and service more slick. I ate out at places with an Italian flavour, serving interesting pizza specialities and a nice variety of starters and mains. I had forgotten how delicious and tender Karoo lamb is and enjoyed a starter of beef carpaccio drizzled with fresh green olive oil.
Arriving back in Harare in the dark, I would have welcomed any guiding system — preferably equipped with an early warning system for the potholes, and infrared to see through the long grass at intersections. It had been a welcome change to feel comfortable driving at night on well-lit streets.
 – g.jeke@yahoo.com