oki my peeps,
a long awaited update, I assume...
I left you, wondering if I would have the keys in time and if the moving company would come. Well, they did. Everything went according to plan, in spite of it being plan B obviously.
After a couple of calls and a fair amount of driving around in taxis, I held the keys to the flat in my hand at exactly 9h23. At 10h the movers would be there. That's about as close as it can get, isn't it? But it's the end result that counts, so I headed to my flat with a big smile on my face. The guys from the moving company were in time, which only made me feel more elated. So I joined the guys, basking in the sun, waiting for the truck to arrive with my stuff. After a while, still no container, the leader off the pack received a call. He broke lose of the pack, headed my way, holding out a phone. Was he holding is head down? The leader of the pack, showing signs of defeat? The voice on the line confirmed my feelings, something was wrong. They forgot to pick up the container.
One doesn't need to know much about container shipping to understand that having the actual container in the place it needs to be (preferably on time) is the essence of the whole thing.
I left the guys waiting for the container whilst the moving company (not Maersk you cheeky reader) rectified their mistake to pick up my things at the apartment I was happily abandoning. I even squeezed in a nap I think. And then, surely enough, the container arrived at 13h00 sharp and the movers could start working their magic. Well, "magic" is a massive overstatement because it was a simple matter of dragging heavy boxes up 3 flights of stairs. But I was the elated one, remember, and I saw all these things coming out of the cartons just the way they were stuffed in there, in Mechelen, thousands of miles up north and several weeks ago. So it was magical to me.
You have to take the part "just the way they were stuffed in there" very litterally. These mover guys in Mechelen did not ask a lot of questions, they just executed. So if I said "everything on this shelf", everything on the shelf
was put in a box and shipped. That includes a bowl of half eaten hazel nuts, a cup with -now moulded- tea, receipts from supermarkets, an envelop with 100 EUR worth of meal vouchers (maaltijdcheques),...
So now I am a resident of the Mazoli building, on 129 High Level Road, appartment 15 in 8005 Green Point (virtually the same as Sea Point actually).
Although the movers unpacked a lot of things for me (including the ridiculous number of glasses I had with me), still not everything is unpacked. Mainly because I took an unfurnished apartment and need to buy a nice cupboard still. And a table and chairs, couches and maybe something else... good thing it's the shopping period.
Now the next big thing to get in place, and actually the crux of any type of free/social life, is a car! It looks like I will have one next week. And I will tell you much more about it then. And I will also tell you about how I claimed the title of Nonkel Wouter because a little baby girl was born this week.
Please check out the pictures I uploaded on the move here
December 11, 2009
December 02, 2009
something wicked this way comes,
wicked, wack, weird... tomorrow should be the big day. My stuff will be delivered to my new flat tomorrow, in sound condition I hope, and in due time... The observant reader must have noticed my reserved expression. The issue is namely that I don't hold the keys to the flat in my hand. I'll save you the details, it all comes down to HR not doing their job diligently. They work thoroughly, but slow, which resulted in them paying the warranty quite late (today). But I'm not too worried about the outcome, I'm still confident I'll be in the flat tomorrow. I will just have to run around more and make an extra effort to get things organized.
Running around and making efforts, that is exactly what I did last Saturday (after my previous post). From the list of things to achieve, I succeeded in only half of them. Much to my dismay. No, in reality "dismay" is too big a word, but it's fancy... so I'll use it anyway.
Saturday started with me running around the City Bowl (center part of CPT), looking for a scooter to rent. All scooters were rented out, not that there were that many to begin with. That resulted in me being late at the bank, finding the doors closed. I comforted myself with some exquisite sushi and headed to Voortrekker Road, a long street with a lot of car dealers. It's quite a stretch so that means a taxi driver had a good day, at the expense of, well, me... To add my frustration - by know I had used quite a lot of nasty vocabulary already- most of the flippin' car dealers were closed. No progress made, money not well spent.
Sunday was the exact opposite. A friend-colleague of mine ( we should definitely find a word for a colleague who is also more of a friend, like a friegue or colleand or just randomly "a clort" - should I start up a facebook group now?) took me out of the city. We ended up in a small village called Mamre. As road tripping will teach you, you can always expect unexpected things to happen. In this case we ended up in a brimful church, with us sticking out on the first row and as the only white people. This is the point where I should tell you that I was "dressed down". It is a little trick I do when I go out, to stand out a bit less. I wear simple clothes, no bag pack, nothing fancy that would entice thieves. Now in this case we were "just going out the city" so I dressed down extra. I had selectively chosen a T-shirt that didn't smell too much, and shorts I would wear to paint stuff. So there I went, into that packed church with everyone dressed up in suits and their best clothes. A moment of self awareness. The men were all in suit and tie, the children clean from head to toe, the women with nice necklaces and other subtle jewelry. The grandmothers all wore a scarf, over their head.
Goodness me! Was this, in some strange twist of reality, a muslim church? No, it was clearly a christian church. But a scarf, really? Surely it's a sign of their backwardness then? Settled in their ways, these christians did not evolve like we and they did not become modern. Has to be! But the priest was a woman, quite a young one at that, and she made jokes in her sermon. That is very progressive, very modern, isn't it?
Leaving that aside, I was still on the first row in shorts, with incredibly pale legs lighting up the room, it seemed. Someone had pushed a book in our hands, which contained all the songs. They sang a lot. The entire mass was in Afrikaans, much to my benefit. The melodies and texts were just like the ones we have in church, so I felt very confident to squeal along "In genade, groot en ryk, bou U, Heer, u koninkryk" etc... (have a look at the building, it dates from 1818, could have been standing anywhere in Europe, right?)
After the very interesting mass, we headed out to a wine farm. Did the tasting, had an exuberant lunch and enjoyed the ubiquitous sunshine. You will understand I was very glad with this day out. Thanks very much to Georgina, my freague, colliend, clort...
Now wish me good luck for tomorrow! If all goes well, I should have an interesting series of pictures next time!
If you want to get a feel of where I will be staying, have a look at the inlay at the right. I will move to High Level Road in Sea point.
Running around and making efforts, that is exactly what I did last Saturday (after my previous post). From the list of things to achieve, I succeeded in only half of them. Much to my dismay. No, in reality "dismay" is too big a word, but it's fancy... so I'll use it anyway.
Saturday started with me running around the City Bowl (center part of CPT), looking for a scooter to rent. All scooters were rented out, not that there were that many to begin with. That resulted in me being late at the bank, finding the doors closed. I comforted myself with some exquisite sushi and headed to Voortrekker Road, a long street with a lot of car dealers. It's quite a stretch so that means a taxi driver had a good day, at the expense of, well, me... To add my frustration - by know I had used quite a lot of nasty vocabulary already- most of the flippin' car dealers were closed. No progress made, money not well spent.
Sunday was the exact opposite. A friend-colleague of mine ( we should definitely find a word for a colleague who is also more of a friend, like a friegue or colleand or just randomly "a clort" - should I start up a facebook group now?) took me out of the city. We ended up in a small village called Mamre. As road tripping will teach you, you can always expect unexpected things to happen. In this case we ended up in a brimful church, with us sticking out on the first row and as the only white people. This is the point where I should tell you that I was "dressed down". It is a little trick I do when I go out, to stand out a bit less. I wear simple clothes, no bag pack, nothing fancy that would entice thieves. Now in this case we were "just going out the city" so I dressed down extra. I had selectively chosen a T-shirt that didn't smell too much, and shorts I would wear to paint stuff. So there I went, into that packed church with everyone dressed up in suits and their best clothes. A moment of self awareness. The men were all in suit and tie, the children clean from head to toe, the women with nice necklaces and other subtle jewelry. The grandmothers all wore a scarf, over their head.
Goodness me! Was this, in some strange twist of reality, a muslim church? No, it was clearly a christian church. But a scarf, really? Surely it's a sign of their backwardness then? Settled in their ways, these christians did not evolve like we and they did not become modern. Has to be! But the priest was a woman, quite a young one at that, and she made jokes in her sermon. That is very progressive, very modern, isn't it?Leaving that aside, I was still on the first row in shorts, with incredibly pale legs lighting up the room, it seemed. Someone had pushed a book in our hands, which contained all the songs. They sang a lot. The entire mass was in Afrikaans, much to my benefit. The melodies and texts were just like the ones we have in church, so I felt very confident to squeal along "In genade, groot en ryk, bou U, Heer, u koninkryk" etc... (have a look at the building, it dates from 1818, could have been standing anywhere in Europe, right?)
After the very interesting mass, we headed out to a wine farm. Did the tasting, had an exuberant lunch and enjoyed the ubiquitous sunshine. You will understand I was very glad with this day out. Thanks very much to Georgina, my freague, colliend, clort...
Now wish me good luck for tomorrow! If all goes well, I should have an interesting series of pictures next time!
If you want to get a feel of where I will be staying, have a look at the inlay at the right. I will move to High Level Road in Sea point.
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