12 ways to survive Cape Town

Cape Town. 120112. People walk their dogs without leashes on many beaches in Cape Town that allow it like here on Fish Hoek beach. Meeka Riley, 2, was attacked by a dog on Clifton beach. Reporter Nontando Mposo. Picture Courtney Africa

Cape Town. 120112. People walk their dogs without leashes on many beaches in Cape Town that allow it like here on Fish Hoek beach. Meeka Riley, 2, was attacked by a dog on Clifton beach. Reporter Nontando Mposo. Picture Courtney Africa

Published Oct 20, 2015

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Cape Town - Hi everyone. My name is Helen and I’m a former Durbanite.

Chorus: Hi, Helen.

This is my 4 056th day in Cape Town and, so far, I’m doing alright. Staying strong.

Chorus: Hallelujah!

I have left behind those dark days of mugginess and Mynah birds and have learnt how to wear organic earrings and a beanie without looking like a complete wally. It has not been easy.

Chorus: Ag, shame.

In an effort to help others in this predicament, I have compiled a 12-step Cape Town survival list, available for sale at the door.

Step 1: Change your number plates and remove your Sharks stickers. Most middle-class Capetonians have never travelled further than the V&A Waterfront, so an ND number plate implies you are from a shameful place where people still wear Teesav shorts and eat prawn cocktails. They will flash their lights at you, make rude gestures and steal your parking. And if you’re thinking of trundling around Newlands with a Sharks sticker on your boot, be prepared to be lightly beaten with a punnet of sushi.

Step 2: Come with pots of cash. Don’t think you can arrive with a few waitressing tips in your back pocket and a box of samoosas for sale. A coffee here costs a month’s rent, and Capetonians will only eat spicy stuff if it comes in a bamboo steamer in an expensive Thai restaurant or is sold as curry when it is, in fact, stew with masala dusting.

Step 3: Know the name of your local homeless person. While Durbanites don’t pretend to care, fancy Capetonians like to engage in meaningless interactions with people who sleep on the streets. “So, Yusuf, how’s it going today?” they will greet their pet impoverished person, as they pile into their Audis and speed off to their loft studios.

Step 4: Get a dog. Canines, particularly shelter mutts, will make you look like Mother Teresa in Cape Town, and having one loping by your side – preferably with a cute, non-allergenic ball in its mouth – confers automatic entry into the hallowed circle of Those Who Care.

Step 5: Know your wine. While it might be acceptable to order a glass of “dry white” in Durban, this will elicit sneers from those around you. Even if you don’t give a fig about that French theme town, put on a Prince Charles accent and order something from Franschhoek. And never, ever say, “I’ll have the cheapest”.

Step 6: Embrace fynbos. I know, they do look like a collection of twigs – and one of them even smells of unwashed groin – but Capetonians are very fond of their buchu and blombos, so refrain from referring to them as scrub.

Step 7: Ditch punctuality. Capetonians love being late, as it implies they lead such interesting lives that they had to hurriedly finish hanging an exhibition/completing a sculpture/wrapping up a film shoot to get to the restaurant at least two hours late. And then they will drink Champagne all night and start to laugh funny.

Step 8: Don’t ogle tourists. Yes, there are socked and sandaled Germans everywhere, and tattooed Americans taking bad photos of buildings and pretending to be Jack Kerouac, but if you marvel at them, you’ll look like a hick. Rather sweep past them when they ask for directions or swat them away when they trouble you for advice while you sip lattes at a café.

Step 9: Learn how to wear scarves. In Cape Town, we do not place our scarves around our necks and fling one of the lengths over our shoulders. Nay. We knot them and fold them in an intricate origami fashion. And we are not scared of wearing antique curtains as shawls.

Step 10: Wear slippers in public. This is hard to get right, but nail it, and you will be a Capetonian for life. Instead of heading to the video shop in normal footgear, slip into a pair of sheepskin loafers and adopt a slovenly slouch, taking care to skim the soles on the pavement as you walk so you make a “sssttssssht” sound with every step.

Step 11: Believe in angels, The Secret, monks who sell their Ferraris and chakra balancing. Most popular in the Muizenberg area, these endeavours will get you invited to mouldy retreats in houses made from tofu and to satsangs run by men with big, scary blue eyes.

Step 12: Most importantly, never, ever, ever diss The Mountain. Trample on her, mountain bike on her, fall off her, look at her, but never, ever, ever refer to her with anything but reverence and respect. She may just be a slab of rock, but to locals, she is their idol, their inspiration – their confirmation that they are south, and there is no need to go anywhere else.

Cape Argus

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