Adventures in South Africa

I have just completed the longest commute, if you will, of my life: I left my hotel in Cape Town yesterday at 2.30pm (London time) and opened the flat door just under 2 hours ago at 6.30pm (again London time).  In between: a 9 hour flight from Cape Town to Dubai, a 4.5 hour stopover and a 7 hour flight to London Heathrow.  I practically did the same (naturally in reverse) only 6 days ago,  In between: a 6 day adventure in the Western Cape area of South Africa - my first trip in the southern hemisphere (which was a welcome break from the London cold) and the first long flight(s) I have ever taken.  And a few other 'firsts'.

One of the perks associated with work in academia is the rather consistent opportunities to attend researcher conferences.  In my mind, these are nothing more than glorified tourist propaganda exercises organised by the learned for their fellow peers worldwide, invariably always held in tourist magnets and close to the height of summer, which in the case of South Africa is November.  And this was the venue for the 2016 fib conference, at which Dr. Micallef II was to present a research paper.  After much deliberation, I finally decided to go along, only on a different (indirect) flight which however was £400 less than my wife's at £600, quite a bargain I must say, given that AirMalta flights at £300 or more are not uncommon, but that is another story.

And so the day came: all the summer clothes unearthed from hibernation and with a few trips planned and scheduled, we ventured to Cape Town, the place about which I had read since I was a very young child: the fateful tip of the world where explorers or merchants dreaded to go around due to its infamous weather.  But not this time of the year, or so we hoped.

It was my first time on an Airbus A380 and I was blown away (so to speak).  I am always fascinated at how a big object such as a plane can fly, but this was another level of bestiality.  The Emirates experience, complete with WiFi whilst 10km up in the air and some 2500 movies to choose from and proper meals with proper cutlery, proved to be beyond my expectations for 'economy' class (what do the business class get then, I wonder?).  Stopping at Dubai (again my first time in the UAE), confirmed my suspicions that this place was all about money; not quite streets paved in gold but not too far, for the airport is a continuous feast of marble and stainless steel, 120 person lifts, triple height internal waterfalls and sheer massiveness.  Time passed quickly and I was on my final leg to Africa.

It was hot and sunny, right from the start.  Promising.  I was met by the chauffeur and after exchanging some rand, made my way to the hotel at the V&A (that is Alfred and not his father Albert) Waterfront.  My first impression was positive: excellent road surfaces and signs, neat buildings (bar the few shanty towns along the highway), lively and very clean streets.  It was almost hard to believe this was Africa.  I noted a few highrises - obviously dwarfed by the 1085m tall Table Mountain - but these seemed old as if the city 'stopped' developing in the 1970s, but I could also note a few towercranes dotting the skyline.  And obviously the relatively new 2010 World Cup stadium close to the hotel and the Waterfront itself.  The city seemed buzzing with life.

I met my wife, who had arrived beforehand safe and sound, and ventured off to the V&A.  It felt very much the UK, a Portsmouth or Brighton if you like, only warmer and with a very un-flat backdrop.  A lunch of seafood ushered me into the Capetonian cuisine and the evening closed off with a conference reception.

On Monday morning, we made a trip to the city centre, in particular the District Six Museum and the guided tour by an ex-resident.  In my ignorance of non-obvious world history, I was not aware of the full atrocity of the apartheid, such as the forced removal of people in this area of Cape Town.  The most shocking aspect of this was not clearing the area for the sake of some national project or rebuilding programme, which are often met with resistance (similar to what happened in some slum areas in Malta in the past, for instance) but this was simply left undeveloped; the aim was solely getting rid of the people because of their skin colour.  Another startling fact was that non-whites were only granted the right to vote in 1994, which is terribly recent.  On a lighter note, the other highlight of the day was a short cruise around the harbour, where we spotted a couple of sunbathing seals!

Tuesday was another 'cultural' day, starting off with a visit to the 2010 football stadium, which design I found very appealing.  The sunny morning soon became cloudy if not chilly and this was not a good sign, given we had to take a ferry to hop over to Robben Island, 10 km away (on the way, we were lucky to spot a few surfacing whales and dolphins).  The tiny island hosts a maximum security prison with minuscule cells one of which hosted Nelson Mandela for 18 years, the highlight of the island really, alongside a small colony of African penguins.  The day was concluded by an excellent meal: the conference banquet.  In this case, a culinary feast of African dishes, including springbok and ostrich meat, naturally both 'firsts', and all washed down with excellent South Africa wine.

Wednesday was practically all devoted to the conference (my wife's presentation was great, as always) and the late afternoon spent exploring some of the Art Deco gems in the city centre.  Unfortunately, in the evening some intestinal issues started to crop up, which alas lasted, more or less, for the rest of the stay...the discomfort was definitely offset by a full 1 hour body massage for us both!

Then on Thursday, with a little help from Imodium, we managed to venture out of Cape Town to the winelands of Franschhoek, or French Corner.  It was like a journey back in time, where the world was still untouched by man except for the basic exploitation of natural produce, in this case the grape.  The vineyards and their spectacular settings took away some of the discomfort but unfortunately could not be as adventurous in the tasting as I wished to!

By Friday, I was feeling a bit better, but poor Marianna had her turn now.  Nonetheless, we set off for a peninsula tour all the way down the Atlantic coast to the Cape of Good Hope and Cape Point, via Camp and Hout Bays and the Seal Island (no need to explain its name!) and then Boulders Beach along False Bay where the highlight was certainly the big colony of African penguins.  It was at first unusual to associate penguins with Africa, but who wouldn't want to stay basking away in the African sun rather than the Antarctic icy wind?  A stop at the beautiful Kirstenbosch Gardens concluded the day tour.

Saturday was my last day but before leaving I could not not visit the Cape's most famous permanent resident: Table Mountain.  The cable car ride, albeit 2.5 minutes short, was scary to say the least but once at the top, it was worth every second of fear.  The sun was scorching hot and by early afternoon I had to stay in the shade on the hop-on-hop-off bus for my arms looked like a Maltese flag!  And it was time to leave Cape Town and Africa.

The biggest resource of all that I could see in South Africa, certainly in Cape Town, was not the vast expanses of land but the people.  Every single person we met, locals I mean, were extremely gentle and cordial and at the same time funny and friendly.  This country, almost literally at the end of the world, proved that Africa has so much to offer and my final thought, or rhetoric question, is: why do Africans bother coming to Europe?  I think we should be going there instead, for it is very much an unknown paradise and the Mother City is its gateway.

Speaking of mothers: now it is time to sleep for tomorrow is back to work and this is going to be the mother of all Mondays!

Trumped!

It is becoming a sort of trend for me to write about worthy events one week after they actually happen.  In this case, there is a sort of valid reason: I am at home - sick - and hence had a good opportunity to catch up on what has been going on lately.

Last Wednesday, the 'GMT' part of the world woke up to the news that the President-elect of the U.S.A. is Mr. Donald Trump, in direct contrast to what the polls (and all the world, really) predicted and expected.  Since then, there has been uproar in the media everywhere: protests in the States, posts on Facebook predicting the end of the world, doom and gloom all over the place.  And Trump is not even in the Oval Office yet.

I still cannot really understand why all this fuss.  Elections in the democratic world are held all the time, certainly every 5 years in most countries (or 4 in the case of the U.S.A.) and, like every other competition, there is a winner and a loser.  Some, generally close to or just above 50% of the people, "win", and the rest "lose".  Why are people protesting now that Trump and not Clinton won?  Is it not the whole idea of the democratic process that election results are to be respected?  Or is it now the case that when a result does not match the popular expectation, the result is null or will not be accepted?  After all, voting is done by the people and for the people.  The people get what they choose and what they want.  Otherwise, it is the whole way of exercising democracy that needs to be revised, and not only these isolated cases of when people 'do not like' a result.

The same was with the Brexit vote a few months ago - the predictions were that the "Stay" will win, and so did I hope and vote for, too, but the results proved that Mr. Cameron's bluff to hold a referendum had been called by the British and now Brexit is on the cards.  From my point of view, the Brexit result truly saddened me, more than anything else.  I have been a voter in Malta and the U.K. for a number of years and sometimes I "won" and sometimes "lost".  But never was I really sad whenever I lost, except now in the Brexit vote.  But this is not about Brexit here...so back to Trump I shall go.

Trump won because the people voted for him.  There is widespread talk that those who voted for Trump were the uneducated and the like, which is ironic since such an idea is generating a sort of elitist division between the educated (the infamous "Establishment" being talked about?) and the not.  Democracy was born in Ancient Greece, where the right to vote was somewhat exclusive to the learned - in that case, the philosophers - and this was believed to guarantee that the 'best' choice would be made on who would then lead the demos, the people.  Society has come a long way since then and voting rights have been extended to everyone, irrespective of wealth, education and gender (and rightly so).  This could have worked when political propaganda was limited to sensible debates, the spoken word, genuine manifestos, ideological principles of Left, Right and all in between and so on and so forth.  However, it seems that this is no longer working in our age, where debates are mere shows, great speeches have been reduced to Tweets, what a person or party stands for is heavily diluted and often skewed by personal opinions in the social media and the concept of ideology is completely gone.  I think that the whole notion of democracy or at least how it is exercised needs serious revision.  How?  I obviously do not know.  Or actually, the desiderata in the mind of the 21st century citizen would be a government per person.  Individualism is the religion of the day.  I, me and myself.  Or a number of parallel governments to which one can belong and not to the other.  How is this allegiance maintained and not switch daily from one government to another?  I don't know, either.  Perhaps I am talking gibberish, given I am sick.

What struck me the most in this whole Trump issue was that during the campaign and prior to the election results, virtually everyone was anti Trump: leaders, Prime Ministers and the like.  Now, these very same people and sending messages of congratulations and wishes of collaboration with the new President.  I never witnessed such hypocrisy before and this was very disappointing although in a way I was not surprised at all, for I had commented about this on Facebook back on 28th September.  I am more looking forward to see meetings between world leaders and Trump than to see Trump himself.

One final word on Trump: I believe he is, in essence, a showman and all of the 'nasty' speeches prior to the election were simply propagandist in nature and served only to attract an audience and 'captivate' people, which he did.  Trump the candidate and Trump the President will surely, and hopefully, be two different people and my take is that we will not be witnessing any new Great Walls being built nor mass deportations.  I am sure, though, that these coming 4 years will have their fair share of gaffes, quips and diplomatic manoeuvres characterised by comicality.

Double trouble

It has now been a week since returning from my latest trip to Malta.  In truth, it was the 4th trip in the space of 6 days: London-Gothenburg-London-Malta-London.  The Malta flight in question had been long booked - since January to be precise - but, as it often happens to satisfy Murphy's Law, things always crop up to create complexity.  This case in particular was one which could not be altered (quite literally) at all costs: I was to travel to Malta for the wedding of Manuel and Amanda back-to-back with an unplanned business trip to Sweden.

It has been quite a while since we had a wedding (2014 was the last one, in Italy).  Manuel was the last but one of 'the gang' from the class of '83 who met back in 1999 at 6th form and after 5 years of architectural school and full time jobs, Master degrees abroad and all in between stuck together.  To me, he is a sort of brother I never had and been through thick and thin.  A few years back, when he and then girlfriend Amanda were in vacation in Italy, I recall mentioning, half jokingly, that he ought to make a trip to Verona and get down on his knees outside Juliet's balcony; little did I know that it was part of his secret plan to do so (only that I got the city wrong - Venice - and that it was almost impossible to do on one knee - for it was on a gondola).  The rest became history, or rather was only made history last week.

The news of the wedding was too exciting and again half jokingly I told Manuel that my wedding gift deposit was to be the (structural) design of their marital home.  This also materialised and it is a project we are now both proud of, albeit I only last saw it in raw concrete.  As the year of the big day approached, the excitement started to build up when Manuel told me that the wedding was to be on 22nd October 2016 or the day of my 33rd birthday!  The news was made even more exciting when Manuel asked me to be a groomsman.  I have been a pageboy in the (distant) past and obviously a groom in the not-so-distant past.  But a groomsman was something else!  I could not wait for the day!

A week before the wedding, unforeseen circumstances at work made it essential for me to travel to Sweden for a 2 day workshop related to 'my' project there.  The day of travel back coincided with my planned outbound trip to Malta and there was no way I could make it without altering my flight.  My wife left on the Thursday night and I literally landed 30 minutes later, only to come home and sleep, change suitcase and return back to Heathrow, with a severe sleep deficit and accumulating fatigue from travel and long work hours.

After landing on Friday afternoon and collecting my suit, my family and I celebrated as best as we could, given the little time available, my 33rd: a third of a century.  It was my first birthday in Malta since 2006!  I recall celebrating my quarter of a century in London when I bought myself an iPod; so much has changed since then!  At the same time, little changed, for London is still the place I (or we) call home!

Back to my Malta story.  Saturday arrived and at 9 I met Manuel and the rest of the groomsmen for some final preparations, mainly involving fixing some lighting fixtures at the reception venue in 27 degree scorching sun, which made it hard to believe this was late October.  And then the time for dressing up!  The afternoon kicked off with a few photos at the Darmanin residence, a glass or 2 of Scotch and then a classic ride to the church in vintage Mustangs - very unconventional but equally cool!

Once at the church, I must admit I felt too emotional reminded of our own wedding and mixed with the fact that Manuel was, finally, getting hitched.  It was a beautiful ceremony.  Mr. and Mrs. Darmanin were born.

A short drive away and the fun began: catching up with 'the gang' and a few old friends whom Manuel and I had in common, coupled with Negronis on a quasi summer's night.  And then the dancing.  And the photo booth.  And more dancing.  And lifting the bride and groom on the shoulders.  Then again.  Then the cake.  Then more lifting.  And then the tiredness really starts to kick in.  But first all the flower stands need to be packed away.  I did not long for a good night's sleep like that night in a while.  The age, perhaps?

My wife and I had been dreading the flight on the next day for we mistakenly thought it was the first London flight.  Luckily, it was only at 5.30pm which meant we could get up and enjoy the Sunday almost in its entirety.  Goodbyes done, we made our way back to London and here we are now, one week later, getting ready for another week of work (incidentally including another equally challenging trip to Gothenburg at 7.30am but that is another story).

We will soon meet the newly weds here in London in a few weeks' time but, until then, I sincerely wish Manuel and Amanda an amazing married life.  The special day we shared with them last week was a promising start to what, I am sure, will be a life-long journey of care and love and knowing that all along the friendship which started years before our own marriages will endure.

Congratulations Lel and Amanda!

"Wearing only this"

So added then 22 year old Kate Winslet immediately after her request to Leonardo di Caprio to draw her wearing a giant blue diamond necklace in the 1997 epic "Titanic".  Being only 14 at the time and an all-time (RMS) Titanic aficionado (recall this), I had found this to be extremely radical, not to say sensual.  However, post Sunday last, the "only" has indeed become redundant; let me explain.

It was an ordinary Tuesday aboard the 8.12am Overground to work, with 1000 commuters and the weekly "TimeOut" to keep me company.  As soon as I read an article featuring what was to be London's first naked restaurant, "Bunyadi" or Hindi for 'natural', I knew that my first task at the office was to sign up on the 'waiting list'.  Little did I know that that list had already accumulated some 36,000 people before me.  I knew the odds of actually going were slim and, upon sharing the idea with my Mrs., it seemed to her (and myself too, really) that this was nothing more but an immense bluff call.

Until I received an email last Friday at 4.30pm that it was possible for me to book a place in the following 4 hours before the same email is sent to the 'next in line'.  Within 5 minutes, I was booked after emailing my Mrs. and telling her, "Please accept the invitation below; consider this to be your birthday gift, which you have to enjoy in your birthday suit".

And Sunday evening arrived.

We knew the code of conduct: you arrive at the venue in an otherwise unmarked location (an all-black, boarded-out ex-pub but with a fancily dressed bouncer at the door off a nondescript part of Elephant and Castle), you leave your clothes and all belongings (devices and the like) in a locker and put on a gown and wait in a bar area until you are called to the dining area where you are then free to take off your gown, if you wish.  And then enjoy a dinner of all-raw natural food.  Served by equally (un)dressed waiters/waitresses.

The waiting bit was brief but seemed too long and when our party was called, we were escorted through a labyrinth of dark, candle-lit spaces of bamboo booths with soft jazz in the background.  The temperature was just warm enough to make you want to take off the gown.  Which we did once we settled in our booth (of 6 but just for the 2 of us).

The staff were very cordial and all natural (not only in dress but also in their interaction) and in no way made us feel uncomfortable, especially on our waitress's first appearance in the booth.  Magical atmosphere combined with tasty food and wonderful wine is my kind of perfect ending to the weekend.  The seaweed and sashimi-style salmon starter was as fresh as the ocean while the steak tartare main dish was exquisite (including the edible cutlery) and the crumble-coconut mouse-berry combo for dessert (washed down with fermented milk and raw cocoa) was the perfect finale.

The 1 hour 45 minute slot passed too quickly but we could not take off the grin off our face, even though being greeted by 'sunshine' at 8.45pm was a bit of a shock after almost 2 hours in the dark.

It is a shame that "Bunyadi" will be open for 3 months only for it would have found a very regular customer.  The taboo-ist inhibitions imposed by society on society over the past 21 centuries has really taken away a great sense of freedom which unfortunately is nowadays limited only to the few so-called naturists.  In this post-Brexit age, I think I am about to leave London and settle on some Caribbean island where I can have breakfast, lunch, dinner and all in between bunyadi style...