The Best Nest

Some said we were crazy to try to find an apartment in a city that we didn't know very well in just 2 days, battling jetlag and navigating the city without a car.  Obviously, those people don't know us very well.   When on a timeline, there is no such thing as an extension.  Or compromise.  Or defeat.  We came, we saw, we leased (venimus, vidimus, leasimus). And not only did we find a place, it is absolutely the Best Nest!  For mere $200 more a month than some of the subterranean rat holes we viewed, we have a lovely, light, airy apartment facing a park in a really cool part of town.

We also managed to achieve what one might have thought was previously unattanaible: a modern kitchen with a dishwasher. It is true and it is all ours... well not really ours, but ours for a bit and ours to share with you, our faithful reader (after a rigorous screening process, of course).

Earlier in the post, I mentioned that we lived near a park.  This park is called Dolores park as it is very near the famed Mission Dolores.  We had heard that this was a cool place to hang out on a sunny weekend day, but WOW! we had no idea what we were in for... check out this video that jared took from our balcony on Satuday afternoon.

Clearly, we live in a happening spot! So, this is it our first West Coast travel soliciation: come visit us at our new place in San Francisco and find your inner hippie by hula-hooping the day away!

Coming to America

We have had a few questions regarding the future of the Dos Texpatriates blog now that we will be moving back to the States.  To this, we remind the inquirer that California is still a foriegn land to we native Texans and that the tag line, "Two Texans away from home" still rings true. So continue to check back for updates as we continue to navigate strange and foreign territories.

All Aboard the Breakfast Express

Before departing Cape Town, Jared and I decided that another must-do was to revisit one of Cape Town's quirkiest breakfast spots, the Atlantic Express.  Tucked between the barber shops and Chinese food restaurants on hectic Main Road in Sea Point, the Atlantic Express had peaked my interest from the first drive by.  When I saw a sign advertizing pancakes a few weeks later, I knew that it was meant to be.

One Saturday morning a few months ago, I convinced Jared to let me blindfold and escort him to a mystery breakfast. Although the importance of the blindfold took a bit of convincing, I managed to keep him in the dark until we were directly in front of the old school train.  Needless to say, he was suprised to find this overlooked gem parked on the sidewalk. This morning, we were happy to re-discover this magical carriage ready to transport us to a world of breakfast bliss.

Competitive Eating

Since arriving in Cape Town, one of our favorite weekend activities has been to head to the Neighborgoods Market at the Old Biscuit Mill on Saturdays for brunch.  Overflowing with delicious prepared foods, baked goods, meats, cheeses, and sauces, the market offers almost anything you can imagine would be delicious to eat.  A mistake that we make time and time again is to show up to the market hungry. Sometimes ravenously so. Sometimes this hunger is exaggerated by an accompanying headache, a reminder of Friday night's activities out on the town. Needless to say this is not the ideal state to show up in at a jam packed market with literally thousands of food options and very little seating.  For some (i.e. me), these choices can become quite overwhelming.  I will often wander around for 20 min, usually to return with either enough food to feed an army because I was unable to decide or just a beer, having been repeatedly defeated by the more ambitious diners.  Both Jared and our friend Liz, on the other hand, always head straight for the stand selling the rump steak sandwich, a messy but delicious meal that has them raving until the next fix.  Despite having eliminated the "what to get today" problem that plagues me so terribly, fighting for a spot in line and a place to sit can certainly get the competitive streak in those two going.  Despite the momentary rage at the person slowly lingering over their savoury crepe or Thai breakfast stirfry, no one leaves hungry and everyone leaves happy.

City Toad, Country Toad

Monday morning started with a bang, or should I say, a hop. Barely awake and going about my morning routine, I was startled to notice (insert high-pitched shriek, here) that I was not alone in the bathroom.   Alongside the toilet, hopping along was a smallish toad.  For those of you who have not visited us, I should mention that we live on the third floor of a concrete high-rise apartment, increasing the strangeness of this appearance.  It is very difficult to imagine how a toad would have gotten into our apartment.  Did he take the elevator? Open the door? Come up through the drain? I soon realized that the most likely transportation method was one of our bags that we had brought home from the camping trip.

But forget the cause for a moment, and lets return to me and the toad in the bathroom.  After finding a paper wine bag that seemed an appropriate toad transporter, I crawled around after the toad, trying in vain to convince him that I would be taking him to a safe place.  Hearing me cajoling the toad, "Stop it, come on now, stop it," Jared mistakenly thought I was calling the toad "Thomas," so that became his name.  Although this post could go on much longer than necessary, lets just say that little Thomas did not go easily into his new home at the golf course but that he is now a city toad, rather than a country toad. 

"But what type of toad?" you might ask. Well here are the most likely suspects:

         Karoo Toad                                                                                                  Raucus Toad

      Leopard Toad

Feel free to contribute your identification suggestions and queries for the story rights to the childrens' book my way.

Glamping

Glamping-verb (used without object)\ [glam-ping]

         1. to camp in style

         2. a style of camping popularized in the movie "Troop Beverly Hills"

         3. term invented by Liz Hawthorne to explain the only suitable method of sleeping outdoors

Last weekend, we joined a group of friends in Greyton, a town about 1.5 hours west of Cape Town for a weekend in the great outdoors.  John and Liz had visited this location in the past and offered it up as a possible list-worthy item.  John loved the place so much that he once attempted to romance the cleaning supplies.  His enthusiasm must have caught on because on the first night he, Jared, and I stayed up until about 4:30 singing, dancing, and generally annoying anyone within 5 miles. I even managed to incorporate John's beloved broom into a rousing rendition of "Putting on the Ritz" ("Young Frankenstein" moaning included).

Despite the well-warranted disciplining we received from the management the next day (John to camp manager: "4am? Izzit? Shame, man."), we had an awesome time with our adopted South African family.

(Maya and our new friend "Toro")

The Jazziest of them All

For those of you have either met him in person or have been following his antics through the blog, I am sorry to bring this news... the white Polo has moved on.  Yes, it is true.  We are no longer driving around in the most generic vehicle in the most generic color (South Africans love white cars... not sure why) possible.  Last week, our buddy Riedwaan at the VW dealership let us know that someone had decided to purchase this gem and that we would have to give it up.  Since we only have a few weeks left, Chevron decided that it would be more cost efficient to just rent a car for our remaining time.  Fine. Not a problem with us.  Until I saw the rent car, that is.  I can't explain why this car (a Chevy Aveo) made me so angry.  Maybe because it was white.  Maybe because it was even more generic than the Polo. Maybe because I am just sick of other people picking things out for me. Who knows. You would think that 6 months of driving a white Polo would have stripped away any pride I might have had about driving an uncool, generic car but I was immediately loathsome of this newly imposed method of transportation.  Upon getting in the car, I hated it ten times more.  No automatic locks. Manually adjustable side mirrors (try getting the passenger side perfect when you are practically shaking with unexplainable rage).  And manual windows!  We were going on a road trip that weekend, for pete's sake.  This just would not do.

I drove straight home, called Avis and calmly explained how unacceptable this new arrangement was ("And what is the problem with the car, ma'am?" "Well, it completely sucks and I refuse to drive it."). Luckily, the airport location had a few other cars that were suitable for American drivers (a.k.a. automatic transmission) and they were willing to exchange the hated Aveo for something different. And different it was! Everyone, get ready to meet... the Honda Jazz!  Not available Stateside, but easily living up to its name by boasting a completely unconventional body style and a brash blue (not white!!) color.  Here are some pictures of the Jazz in action:

tearing it up on the open road

resting in the shade

showing off its hot bod

I am sorry to say that no visitors will have the opportunity to ride in fine specimen, but whenever you are feeling down, just visit this posting and imagine us cruising around in complete luxury and style.

Full Moon Fever

Now that we have finally been given our departure date (Mar 23), Jared and I have been making lists of things that we absolutely must do before leaving town.  Only two items on the list earned a special star, which indicated things that we would have to miss our departure flight if we hadn't done.  One was eat lunch at Mzoli's. Check.  The other was climb Lion's Head mountain on the night of a full moon. 

This one was a bit harder because, as we all know, a full moon only happens once a month.  Knowing that our time in SA was soon coming to an end, we set Feb 28 as the "must climb" date. Normally, this would be totally do-able.  Although the climb is a bit steep and challenges some peoples comfort with heights (Mom: "I am not scared of heights, I just don't like being up so high"), we both knew that we were up for the challenge.  Enter the Sauvingnon sloppy fest and things get a bit complicated... lets just say that there were several times that I thought that I was going to either pass out, puke, or fall off the mountain and I was in better shape than my beloved companion.  Despite the physical hardships and sauvingnon blanc-flavored sweat, we made it!

Not only did we make it to the top, but we got to watch both the sunset and the moon rise.

Although we did not linger for the stargazing and wine drinking that was to come, we had an amazing sense of accomplishment and the light of the moon to help us down the mountain (which apparently wasn't enough to keep me from scraping my knee).

We have now officially checked the two specially starred items off the "to do" list, so there is a chance that we might just make that plane...

White wine extravaganza

Cute picture, huh?  I thought so too. Unfortunately it is the only picture from the Sauvingnon Blanc festival in Costantia last weekend that is acceptable to post. 

We have truly found friends here that fit our style, there is no doubt about that.  Not content to accept the unlimited offers of free tastings from the 30+ wineries on site that day, we decided to make it a competition to see who could con the hapless winery representatives into giving us full bottles instead.  Now we have quite a charming group, so when we stumbled walked away from our area after the sun had set that evening, approximately a dozen empty bottles littered the ground.  Add that to the unlimited tastings, the pre-event cocktails, and the totally necessary after party, and you get one excitable group. 

So, if any of you readers were nervous that it was all work and no play here in Cape Town, think again.