Screw Movember: I want a beard like that.

Posted: December 9, 2009 in Theatre & Event Reviews and Interviews
Tags: , , ,

The Greek and the Turk find each other on common turf; A glass of milky anisseed something or another, damn nice.

Ah those beards!  Like ZZ Top, dropped in from a forgotten era. Stuck in a time warp; a happy hubbly bubbly of self-created bliss.

In the heart of the Mother City there is a magic garden, well there may be more than one, but this one… ah well it is special.   A 6-tiered garden, so close to Table Mountain that it feels as if the mounting is sitting inside the garden, lives in Higgovale.  Each level is laced with indigenous plants and flowers.  On every platform is a resting point with the mountain on your lap and the city below at your feet. The owner is an ex- American who lived a long time in Jamaica – doing everything imaginable there is to do – everything.  Anything to stay alive.  “But everything fails in Jamaica,” Says owner Allen, “The economy is just so screwed. Nothing lasts.”  Allen has a bold, voluptuous grey beard that is reaching for his belly button. His buddy, soul mate, best friend, Jason, has one too – a ginger one.  He looks like a pale jesus; thin and fragile with expressive eyes that nervously dart around, never really settling. He is also a damn fine chef.

The German Emilio Estevez parties it up with Freshleyground's double....

The real Estevez. But who can tell the difference right?

On the night he serves Angelfish smothered in a delicate orange jus, served with perfectly roasted butternut and salads.  There is a chicken pot roast. The chicken falls from the bone.  The table is made of plastic, the chairs too.   At my table there is a Turk, a few Germans, a South African and a Greek.  It’s an evening for languages.  The Turk looks dangerously handsome, or more dangerous than handsome. His broken English makes his words portent. The Germans are looking a little glassy eyed; the art of communication is taking its toll.  The Greek is comfortable, enjoying the mixed company. And then there is the girl that is still trying to find herself and at 26 she is getting worried that she is running out of time.  And now they are talking about extending the human life to 140 years with stem cell research.  ‘You can find yourself 10 times in a life time and still have time left’, I tell her.   Then we dance. 

The Greek and the Turk do a shuffle, the Greek squirming a little at the Turk’s enthusiasm.  The glassy eyed Germans alive now.  One looks like Emilio Estevich. I tried to explain to him later in the kitchen – who Emilio is. He stares at me desperately trying to understand.  I give up and pour us some wine.  Jason, the Ginger jesus chef, tells me he is a little tired of this. I tell him to take a road trip. His eyes light up.  Later, we say goodbye and stumble out into the busy city.

They were not my friends when I met them.  But they opened the door and said, if you want to, we can be.

Anyone can do this trip; you just need a few bucks and an open and curious mind,

They also have reggae, storytelling, and soccer trips… aaah life is good in the Mother City.


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