Book Review. Bicycle Diaries: David Byrnes

 When I think about David Byrne of Talking Heads, his punchy song, Psycho Killer, and the peculiar genius of the Sledgehammer music video springs to mind.

 A lesser-known fact is that he is a keen follower of what he calls, ‘The Fantastic Voyage’: the exploration of the heartbeat and inner workings of urban landscapes from the seat of his beloved bike. Since the early 80’s Byrne used a bicycle as his main form of transportation in New York City. He soon discovered folding bikes and… voilla, he was in love. He took his bike with him on concerts and for thirty years he kept cycling around cities such as London, Berlin, Buenos Aires, Istanbul, Manila and many more.

Over the years he slowly pedaled through ever-changing urban landscapes and carefully recorded each journey. His writings are poignant and clever and at times sad as he describes the neglect, greed and eventual decay all around him. It is also very funny when he cleverly weaves in anecdotes of the band’s wild days and explorations of the different cultures. Byrne is like a sponge. Everywhere he cycles, he absorbs and allows himself to be fully mesmerized and enchanted by the people and the cities.  His open mind is wondrous, like that of a child, but his writing is that of an old soul. This is a real gem.

Byrne says it best when he describes his point of view from a bicycle, “Faster than a walk, slower than a train, often slightly higher than a person: this became my panoramic window on much of the world over the last thirty years. Through this window I catch glimpses of the mind of my fellow man, as expressed in the cities he lives in. Cities, it occurred to me are physical manifestations of our deepest beliefs and our often unconscious thoughts. Riding a bike through all this is like navigating the collective neuron pathway of some vas global mind. It really is a trip inside the collective psyche of a compacted group of people. A Fantastic Voyage but without the cheesy special effects.

Eloquently written, insightful, rambling, funny, and sometimes delightfully rude. A must-read.

@Astrid Stark

http://www.amazon.com/Bicycle-Diaries-David-Byrne/dp/0143117963

Book Review: Shadow of the Silk Road by Colin Thubron

“Sometimes a journey arises out of hope and instinct, the heady conviction, as your finger travels along the map: Yes, here and here… and here. These are the nerve endings of the world…

A Hundred reasons clamour for your going. You go to touch on human identities, to people an empty map. You have a notion that this is the world’s heart.”

After reading just the first few pages into prolific travel writer, Colin Thubron’s journey along the Silk Road, I guarantee you will be captivated. It is part travelogue, part historical re-exploration and anthropology, written in a somewhat poetic philosophical style that is easily accessible and a great read. Especially if you are planning on exploring this route by bicycle on the http://tourdafrique.com/tour-overview/?t=silk-route.

Thubron chose the easy way out, kind off: he hopped on buses, donkey carts, trains, jeeps and camels through the drifts of the first great trade route, the heart of China, into the mountains of Central Asia, across northern Afghanistan and the plains of Iran into Kurdish Turkey. And even then it is a harrowing journey. I wonder if he could do it all over again, on a bicycle, if he would sign up? After all the TDA’s Silk Route Bicycle Tour has been described as “The longest, hardest, highest, hottest, coldest bicycle expedition on the planet.”

As you read Thubron’s tale your eyes will stumble over names like Xian, Lanzhou, Anxi, Charklik, Cherchen and Kashgar, and many times I had to go back to the map to try to figure out just where I am.  Perhaps it is just me, coming from a sunny country like South Africa with mostly easy to pronounce names, and not too many vast and curious stretches of lands still whispering of arduous journeys and ill-fated travelers. Yet he makes the journey accessible by his interactions with the locals, his honest curiosity and all the research he prepared. His description of the silk moth’s life span is as funny as it is chilling. He spends time to speak to strangers, visit mosques and even did a stretch being incarcerated in a Chinese cell. He encounters Hunan traders, Uzbek prostitutes and volatile Kurdish Turks. There is also that bit about him receiving root canal treatment without anesthetic in Iran, which should serve as a serious reminder for anybody taking on this journey, to visit the dentist prior.  Perhaps one criticism is that he gets somewhat nostalgic and too literary as he explores some of the people and places he meets. However his writing is filled with compassion as he attends burials and speaks to the relatives which reveal as much of the history of the locals as of their modern adaptations to an ever-changing world.

I would not take this book along on your journey as a light-hearted recount of the Silk Route but would rather recommend that you read it well in advance and let his evocative, poetic explorations sink into your psyche and hopefully, when you do get the chance to do this incredible journey, you will in part see it through his sage like eyes, which is what any decent travel writer should aspire too.

Keen to explore his journey by bike? The TDA is a 12,100 kilometer self-powered caravan that begins at Shanghai, China, the bustling center of China’s economic rise, and follows the classic Silk Route across fiery deserts and forbidding mountains. Eighteen weeks later you will arrive in faraway Istanbul, the majestic capitol of Byzantium, the Roman Empire.

One of the riders, of the 2007 Silk Route, Jo Demmler, says it best: “Beautiful sunsets, early morning sunrises, days of biking heaven, days of biking chaos, extreme temperatures , different cultures, headwinds, hills, heat, a cold beer at the end of the day, sharing tea, vodka & beer with generous locals, desert camps, sore bum, bike maintenance, snow, ice and yurts, kids on the streets, high fives, rough and smooth roads, long days, history, culture, architecture, generosity, markets, food, life long friendships” @Astrid Stark

Seville Sunday

I am not sure what is going on. It is nearly winter solstice, rainy season, in Cape Town and we are experiencing ridiculously balmy sunshine days and clear skies. So it was an obvious decision to take a Sunday trip out to the gorgeous seaside village of Kalk Bay.

I have eaten my way through Kalk Bay, several times, so I got pretty excited about trying out the newly opened tapas bar and restaurant, next to the Olympic Bakery, in the main road. Even more so when I discovered La Parada’s chef, Eva de Jesús Galán, hails from Spain and has worked in a 3 star Michelin Restaurant. 

Expectations were high. And we were not disappointed. The restaurant is small and cosy with long gorgeous wooden tables that open up the possibility of sharing your tapas or drinks with complete strangers, which inevitably happens. It overlooks the ocean and other daytrippers stroll by your window as you leisurely nibble your way through the menu. Complimentary tapas are offered with your drinks. Eva’s marinated olives are delicious and spicy.

My Cousin of Awesomeness, who has been working in the industry for years and who has an appetite for life and food bar none, almost platzed when he sampled the fresh Serrano ham. He actually stopped talking for almost three minutes which is highly unusual. The Serrano ham is cured locally by a fellow called Lucas Jamon. True story. Jamon of course being the Spanish word for ham. Talk about being born into your destiny.

I love the yellowtail with salsa verde. Yellowtail is not my favourite fish as it can be quite wild and strong in taste but the team cooked this up to perfection, the salsa tames the fish somewhat and they grilled it to juicy perfection. The Cousin had the Grilled Lamb with honey mustard, garlic and rosemary and said it was utterly delicious but a little bit too much to finish. Hard to believe, anyway I am sure the car guard loved it. The crouquetas de jamon and prawn croquettes are creamy and utterly delicious. I can’t imagine a better way than to sample your way through an entire menu on a gorgeous sunny day. Kalk Bay and tapas are the perfect partners. The wine list has something for everyone and it is very reasonably priced.  I was a little surprised to find only one dessert on the menu. But as soon as I tried the rice pudding, I understood, why. “There can only be one,” as the immortal Highlander once said before beheading his enemy. Or to quote The Cousin, “The most spectacular explosion of flavours in this perfectly prepared rice pud. Best I have ever had. BRAVA!”

La Parada tapas bar and restaurant is the newest addition to the Harbour House family. It trades Monday through Sunday from 12pm to late (the kitchen closes at 10pm). The coffee brand used is Tribe.   021.7883992 (no reservations) @taste_kalkbay

Adios Costa Rica and thanks for the saddle sores.

This was a good day. All we had to conquer was 20km of ass pounding gravel road followed by gorgeous downhills which made our bikes fly. In retrospect the 20km of gravel ‘road’ is an insult to upstanding roads across the globe: loose rocks, potholes, sand, and all of it climbing up and up – and up. 

It took our slowest Doomsday riders almost three hours to complete 10km of this. But we did it. This is where you need your sense of humour the most.

The lunch stop was, for once, out of the wind and rain, in the heart of a dodgy roadside bar. We had music, a dancefloor – though we felt a bit too pooped to do a jig – toilets and running water: sheer luxury. Some of us ran out of drinking water after a while and stopped at a dairy to get some ‘agua’.  

Yesterday was a very tough ride and some of the riders are struggling with muscle fatigue. A big challenge for us is the short daylight hours. We can only have breakfast at 6am which means most of the riders can leave at about 7am, depending on how quick we can get it all down.  The rule is that as soon as it is dark, about 5pm, nobody is allowed on the road. A sensible approach since the roads are narrow and steep and dark. Then there are issues: Bill had 3 punctures which needed to be fixed before we left the hotel and the first of the saddlesores have arrived.

We ended up at a gorgeous hotel with en-suite bathrooms – yes really. Much appreciated after the bunk beds and cold water at the last stop. It is our last day in Costa Rica.

Tomorrow we cross the border into Nicaragua. We can report back that the roads in Costa Rica might be narrow and at times potholed but the sedan drivers where pretty considerate. There are a lot of transportation trucks that are not as kind and a few times we had to fling ourselves off the road just to be sure to be safe. But overall it is a good country for cycling. Adios Costa Rica. Hello Nicaragua! 23 November 2013

More fun on this Doomsday Ride here:  http://tourdafrique.com/category/tour-blogs/la-ruta-maya-the-doomsday-ride/page/3/

Swimming with bicycles in Costa Rica

Costa Rica has two seasons: Rainy and dry. Our group of Doomsday Riders are clearly still at the drippy end of the rainy season. We had to cross a river to get across the great lake Arenal and we really had to do this, otherwise we’d be thrown off our schedule by a day which is a logistical nightmare on a tour like this.  e

Tour leader, Cristiano, hardly slept a wink as he listened to the rain pounding down on the roof the night before the river crossing. No fear. Despite setting up supporting gear for the riders, they pretty much just got into the river with their bikes and winged it.

The water was warm and the adrenalin pumping. We all made it safe and sound but thoroughly soaked and ready for one of the most grueling days of the tour.

More info here http://tourdafrique.com/category/tour-blogs/la-ruta-maya-the-doomsday-ride/page/3/

Doomsday – La Ruta Maya- Costa Rica, Arguas Zarcas to paradise…

Day 2 & 3, 73km

Our reward!

That was a lot easier.  After a rather dramatic first day, the second was a piece of cake – sort of. The first 60km came with a lot of lever roads and temperate conditions.  Then, just a few very steep and very long climbs were followed by fantastic downhills. Ok sure, some of us had to push our bikes a bit to get over the hill, and the granny gears were working overtime. The cyclists loved the second stretch – a bumpy gravel road. The first rider in was our French representative, Eric, who glided into the ranch at 10h30. The rain stayed away. Lunch consisted of Peanut butter, Nutella, tuna, and cheese sandwiches – not all together, mostly. For hours we cycled next to Volcano Arenal, one of the 10 most active volcanoes in the world. The last time she blew her top was only two years ago. There are still hotels that are built along the slopes of Arenal.

Fauna and Flora check:

Sloth x 1 = Riders who sighted this elusive creature reported that it slipped away remarkably fast so they could not document it for us.

Toucan x 3 = These gorgeous birds hung out in a tree next to our lunch truck for a while.

Stray dogs = Many. One lucky boy licked his chops as he finished our lunch leftovers.

Bat x 1 = Came flying down the passage at me early this morning.

Mice x 3 = Discovered at 1 am in Linda and Lisa’s room. The screams were remarkably contained. It was a mum and her 2 babies that decided to nest in Linda’s comforter. Cristiano’s, our tour guide,  voice was heard in the room but he says that he was only enquiring after the ladies’ health.

Leafcutter ants x gazillion = Documented by Lisa, National Geographic style. The spotting of the tiny colony removing large parts of the rainforest on their backs had her remark that if ants with their small brains can be so organised, we should be grateful they are not our size, as they would wipe out the human race in a heartbeat.  Some people get very philosophical when they get on their bikes.   The leafcutter ant travels for over 2km to get food to and from their feeding place. They feed from a particular mushroom. So the leaves they are transporting are to fertilise the soil for their little mushroom plantation. One leader ant carries the leaf, and atop two tiny inspector ants taxi to make sure there are no poisons such as pesticides on the leaf which might contaminate their mushroom. So Lisa’s is a good philosophy. Tonight we are staying in the most gorgeous ranch right in the middle of a rain forest: a paradise retreat.

What we do when we don’t cycle

Today is also our day of. We are at the self-sustainable Rancho Margot: home-made yoghurts and cheese, organic fruit and veg, pancakes, free-range eggs and fresh milk.  For relaxation? You’d think the lot would be exhausted. Nope, they go horse-back riding, kayaking next to the volcano, ziplining,  yoga classes, and yes, the milking of cows. Our doctor, Sarah, and I decided to give it a bash. It is a little harder than it looks but I recon we got at least a glass out between the two of us.( See pic Shanny)  Suzette and Esti chose to go ziplining through the tropical forest. (See attached photo pls Shanny).

The aroma of our fully organic home-grown supper is drifting across the breeze. Tomorrow is our first river crossing. This should be interesting.

END

No turning back

Doomsday Ride – Day 1 San Jose to Aguas Zarcas

No turning back.

Our first day of riding gave us a spectacular taste of what lies ahead.  We started out at 7am from San José under an overcast sky with delicately dripping clouds.  Riding a convoy out of a busy city is always a little nerve-wrecking and San José’s narrow, winding roads are no exception. Toss in the increasing drizzle from the sky, first-day nerves, rush-hour traffic and short and consistent bursts of wickedly steep hills, which made a handful of riders push their bikes – just for a bit. http://www.dtourdafrique.com/doomsdayride.com

At the end of the 17km convoy the road straightened out somewhat, which gave the riders a breather, but then the skies opened up and it came down in buckets. They were soaked in seconds. Still they stayed on their bikes. Soon the inner city roads lined with houses stacked upon each other like playing cards made way for lush green foliage creeping all over roofs and into the roads. Within less than an hour from the city we were entangled in a tropical garden where some of the glossy leaves are big enough to wrap our Jos in – and he is a big man.  Our lunch truck canopy and our nurse, Sarah, had to hang onto the ropes not to get blown away by gusts of rain laden wind. She must’ve thought she is back in Wales. An earthquake had left stretches of the road open to erosion and tiny rivulets criss-cross the roads at parts. At times there are potholes that could swallow a scooter and part of the tarmac has simply been washed away. But it is only for a small section of the road. Some of the riders called this stretch a ‘great adventure’.

Brit, Julie Dakin, who is only cycling the first stretch, was a little nervous before the start of the day but she actually came in smiling – first woman – not that it is a race, and said, “it was fun!”.

When our team scouted this road, the La Paz (peace) waterfall was small and pretty. Now it is a thundering giant at the side of the road. The slow mist that crawled up from the valley added a mystical allure to the green tangles of vegetation, muddy roads and fruit sellers on the side of the road. Today we covered 94km’s: 1200m up and a very sweet, 2560m down. The day so far has not been without minor casualties. One of our female riders became sick yesterday and she sat rather sadly in the van with us, until the rain came pouring down and the first of the murderous hills made her remark that she is glad she sat this on out.  We hope she will be able to get in the saddle tomorrow. Another one of our riders battled too hard with the hills on the convoy and chose to sit out on the van – determined to try again manyana.

Tonight we stay in a little village called Aguas Zarcas. At our hotel, Sueno de Luna – which means Moondreams – the rooms are spacious and clean. Our host is friendly and very kind to all of the wet bodies and bikes.  Oh but I forget to mention the breakfast, fit for conquistadores, that we had this morning at the hotel: omelettes made á la minute, lathers of cold meat, platters of fresh tropical fruit, every kind of Costa Rican pastry you can imagine, home-baked bread, a range of juices, percolated coffee, nutmeg and yoghurt parfait and so on. We have been warned that from here on it is more likely to be the standard beans and rice for breakfast. Well we can always dream of San Josés buffet.  So we had a taste of hills, torrents of rain, a bout of cramps, wind gusts, battered roads and we also got a glimpse of what it means to cycle through tropical forests and adventurous surfaces, and to eat like kings, hopefully we will all be a little stronger tomorrow.

A small bite out of the Big Apple

What can you really tell about a nation if you have only spent a few hours on its airport? New York’s JF Kennedy airport is monstrous, but it is not a monster.  It is surprisingly easy, and almost fun, to navigate your way around it.  And it is shockingly clean. Maybe I’ve just spent too much time in our South African airports.

New York

1 day before www.tourdafrque/doomsdayride.com takes off from San Jose…

After 16 virtually sleepless hours on a flight from SAA to New York, I find myself whittling away 7 hours at the airport. It is not enough time to visit the inner city and according to the baggage storage dude, the city only comes alive at night anyway.  So I stand outside the airport and at least take in the New York air. It smells a bit like Cape Town but it’s got that lovely crisp icy bite of Autumn – just enough to clear your head. Then I take the airtrain – which I thought was called an L-train as explained to me by this cool dude from Haiti who had to go search for my oversized luggage (the friggen huge Doomsday Tour banners that I am dragging around) -and I go round and round from terminal 1 to terminal 8 called the Jamaica, train which made me smile – for a few fun loops until the security guard asks me where I am getting off.  I then get lost in the foodcourt in Terminal 4, spending at least an hour converting the various items at Dunkin donuts and Jose’s Café into Rands and decide that the cheese and biscuits from the aeroplane will do.  I visit every terminal and chat to the cleaning staff only to hear their purring, soothing Caribbean accents while, “do you know the way to San Jose”, is earworming me, badly.   I sip on a take-way coffee ($3!!) and eavesdrop on conversations in Spanish, service staff gossip and sound as if they have just walked out of an American sitcom, policemen eat donuts and look all macho – for real. Oh and the toilets flush themselves – the Yankees just don’t trust us enough. And dangling dough in lit and heated boxes remind me that I am in Bagel Country.Thanks to the movies I feel like I know all these people.   I can’t wait to get to San Jose and meet my colleagues and the mad cyclists that are undertaking this crazy journey.  But first I have to make it out of JFK airport. I am beginning to feel like Tom Hanks.

Journey to the end of the world – really.

Book reviews:

Turn Right at Machu Picchu by Mark Adams

South America has such a mystical allure. It seems a little dangerous, somewhat untamed, and rather exotic, especially from a South African’s perspective. We have our own curious creatures and cultures but there is something so enthralling about names like Guatemala, Nicaragua, La Paz, Puerto Torro and Lake Titicaca. And what true adventurer never dreamed about exploring the heart of the Amazon and imagined fighting off piranhas and other blood stealing creatures? I used to suck up those thin Tarzan booklets and fantasize about getting lost in the Amazon on some heroic mission or another to rescue an exotic butterfly or something cute and furry, only to be captured by Indians; hostile and strangely beautiful… And then my hero would come charging through the lush foliage and sweep me into his sweaty muscular arms and together we would journey through the man-eating forest. But I am mostly over that fantasy now. Now I am more interested in riding a bike from San Jose from 18 November to finish with the end of the world in Belize on 21 December. Funny how our goal posts shift.

If you are signing up for the  South American tour (www.tourdafrique.com/tours/vueltasudamericana) or want to see if the world will truly end on 21 December on the Doomsday Tour, www.tourdafrique.com/tours/doomsday) you will especially enjoy mark Adams’ insights.

Adams is a prolific writer and editor who follows the footsteps of the peculiar Hiram Bingham III who ‘discovered’ Machu Picchu.  Bingham III was later accused as a villain who stole both priceless artifacts and credit for finding the great archaeological site. Adams sets out to discover the truth armed with a pack of donkeys and a very odd and thick-skinned Australian guide.

This book is part travelogue, a history lesson presented humorously and accurately, and part philosophical journey. It is a lot more cerebral than your average travel literature but Adams skillfully makes his writing accessible and enjoyable whilst still being very informative. I am sure it will be a keeper to read over and over again.  O

Doomsday Ride Costa Rica to Belize.

Bangkok Days by Lawrence Osborne.

If inner city madness is more your thing you will love Bangkok Days.  I found myself trapped in Bangkok at the height of last year’s floods.

The train tracks were under water and I could not get to Chiang Mai. At my backpackers I had to leap over sandbags to get into the foyer. The Chow Praya river had bursts its banks and the locals were escaping en-masse by bus and car. I decided to sit it out, found a dry and safe haven at the Buddhist temple, and got myself a copy of this gem.

Osborne loves to visit Bangkok because of its cheap dentistry and, well, its general cheapness. His account of this mad city is spot on as I slowly discovered during my forced stay. He so perfectly captures the sounds and tastes of the city. If you have been to Bangkok’s Khao San Road you will have wondered about the miraculous way that people are not electrocuted on a daily basis. The electricity wires are like massive tangled birds’ nests drooping dangerously low down to the flooded streets. They never seem to take away the dead wires and simply keep adding on layer upon layer. Just get the book to read his explanation of this phenomenon.

Osborne befriends ex-pats and describes them accurately as I discovered later on after meeting some of them. The ex-pats in Bangkok, and the rest of Thailand, are a curious bunch. They are also there for the cheapness, the gorgeous weather and beaches, the ladies of course, and some of them for doing some dodgy business that seems to easily slip under the radar.  A really beautiful and evocative read.

By Astrid Stark

What good is sitting alone in your chair?

Sexy, dirty, malicious, gentle, conniving, beautiful and tragically flawed almost sums up the complex personalities in this flirty production with a big heart.

I have always enjoyed Kander and Ebb’s music and lyrics, but it’s the storyline that still fascinates me after all these years.

At Berlin’s bohemian Kit Kat Club the opportunistic performers find it never too late in the evening to turn a trick and make a buck. They girls are saucy and the men sleek and sly as the Emcee shrieks, “the audience is beautiful. Even the orchestra is beautiful!” The champagne and money flows and the nights are silky and sensual. The music is loud. Life is great. But something is very wrong. The Weimar Republic is crumbling. The Nazi movement is bubbling up like a stinking mud that will eventually swallow all their hopes and dreams. A couple’s long-awaited love is ripped apart. A girl falls from grace and a writer’s fantasies lies in tatters.  Sounds a bit heavy but it’s mostly fun and games.

Samantha Peo is the beautiful boozy Kit Kat Club singer, Sally Bowles, who falls in and out of mens’ beds as she nurtures her fear of her fading looks in a world where it is truly everything to a working girl. Peo is grace and tragedy personified and she is perfect for this role. She portrays Bowles’ multi-faceted character skilfully. And she can sing.

I last saw her in the production of Chicago for which she won a Naledi. She is a skilled performer and singer. Her beautiful figure and face is utilised to its fullest glory by costume designer, Neil Stuart-Harris. Her outfit changes are plentiful and each one more rich and silky and gorgeous to look at. In fact the entire cast looks delicious in satin, blood-red silks, black lace, virginal white bloomers, and lots of leather and straps and stockings.

All except for Bryan Hiles, Clifford Bradshaw, the hapless writer is dressed in a dull as dishwater suit describing his character’s state of mind and position in life. He is poor, shy and nervous, until he meets the characters of the Cabaret.  Hiles’ performance is great and he brings a bit of stability to Peo’s outrageous character, but not for long.

The Emcee is all leather and whips, oozing sexuality, leery sneers and cynicism: wonderfully portrayed by Sascha Halbhuber.

The sub-plot involving a love affair between Fräulein Schneider, Charon Williams-Ros, an older woman who runs the boarding house that Cliff and Sally live in, and Herr Schultz, Peter Court, an elderly Jewish fruit shop owner, threatens to steal the limelight, this despite their minor roles and far more subdued characters. Both portray the doomed relationship with heartbreaking honesty.  Court’s, It Couldn’t Please Me More, or as I call it, The Pineapple Song, is so utterly charming in that lovely gentlemanly way of long ago.  Williams-Ros too has a beautiful voice.

Lyle Buxton as the German, who later reveals himself as a wicked Nazi, is very engaging and a reminder of how charismatic the Nazi’s were in order to convince the country that they only want what is best for all. And he can sing!

Kate Normington as the conniving but cute prostitute that loves to tease Fräulein Schneider is fun to watch.

The song-and-dance routine with a girl in a gorilla suit, If You Could See Her.’ is funny and touching as it concludes with a strong message, ‘if you could see her through my eyes… she wouldn’t look Jewish at all’.

Then there is the dirty, sexy, raunchy Kit Kat girls whom you just can’t take your eyes from.

And the live orchestra truly is just the cherry on top of a rambunctious and highly entertaining show.

A criticism would be that at times the cast were perhaps directed, or felt influenced, to turn up the snarls and ugly side of their personalities. At times this leads to peculiar and ugly sneers that continue for just a little too long. It is understandable that this is done to reveal the ugliness lurking beneath the surface, however this at times feels overly exploited, and over the top. Even when Peo sang the much-awaited Cabaret, it felt just a little over-dramatised.

The final rendition of Willkommen is loud and wonderful and despite it being quite a long production I felt reluctant to leave the seedy underbelly of the Kit Kat Club.  I highly recommend this if you need a break from reality and if you’re in the mood for a spectacularly entertaining visual and aural extravaganza.

Bookings are through  www.computicket.com.

CABARET, Directed by Steven Stead. Musical Direction by Evan Roberts and Justin Southey. Set Design by Greg King. Costume Design by Neil Stuart-Harris. Choreography by Janine Bennewith. Lighting Design by Tina le Roux. Sound by Mark Malherbe. Starring Sascha Halbhuber, Bryan Hiles, Samantha Peo, Charon Williams-Ros, Peter Court, Lyle Buxton, Kate Normington, Duane Alexander, Reg Hart and Malan le Roux. Marleé van de Merwe, Jodie Renouf, Londiwe Dhlomo, Suzzi Swannepoel and Carmen Pretorius. At Theatre on the bay until 23 September or 6 October at varied times.   Review by ASTRID STARK