observatory bucket list

Before leaving Obs a few months (or was it a lifetime?) back, I made myself a 'bucket list' (loathe the term) of shops, restaurants, places of interest I wanted to visit, and revisit, before we moved.
Then in the chaos of moving and subsequent weeks with no internet access (once again a big fat Up Yours to Telkom on that one), I completely forgot to post it!

But I think it's still relevant, and as I find myself back there at least once a week now, looking at that beautiful and crazy suburb with new (possibly more appreciative?) eyes, I quite enjoyed revisiting the list of revisits and reminding myself why I just hated to love the place so much for all those years.

Number 1: Have tea & cake at Queen of Tarts

Number 2: Trawl Munro's 2nd Hand Shop
Text borrowed from Cape Town Magazine 'cos they say it all best:
Owned by Mr Munro, this junk shop on Lower Main Road in Observatory will give you the feeling that you’re looking thorough someone else’s attic. The shelves are stocked with vintage finds galore: from old-school kitchen equipment to dusty paintings that may need to be reframed. Also available is more basic second-hand furniture, such as bookshelves, desks and tables.
Best for: Quirky objects from another time, whether it’s an ancient snow globe or antique spoons.
Price range: Affordable.
Opening hours: Monday-Friday: 9am – 5pm; Saturday: noon – 3pm. 
131 Main Rd | Observatory | Cape Town |  +27 (0)21 447 1852

Number 3: Stock up at Fargo Trading
The best stockist of spices, basmati rice, poppadums, oils, coconut milk, pink Himalayan rock salt, Smarties in bulk, baking chocolate, crisps, couscous, fish sauce ... the list is endless.

Number 4: Reese's Peanut Butter Cups at Komati Foods
By god I ate too many of these while packing ...

Number 5: Milnerton Market (again and again and again). Although not actually in Observatory, it very well could be!

Number 6: Stock up with art supplies at Artsource

Despite having the most boring website (can I even call it that?) in the world this is one of the best art supply shops you'll find in Cape Town. Catering for professional artistes and kiddie crafters alike, Artsource was a pleasure to visit and the Perfect Source of endless birthday gifts, both given and received.

Number 7: Pancakes from Crespella

And so, so much more. Love you Observatory!

crespella café creperie

With one month to go in Observatory I've compiled a 'bucket list' (dreadful concept really) of places I'd like to visit and things I'd like to do before we move.

Number 1 on the list was crepês at Crespella in Lower Main Road.

We've been meaning to go there for years ... I walk or drive past it every day for pancake's sake.

Vast menu, utterly vast. So much sweet and savoury goodness to chose from. Selections finally made (Italian owner makes his own dulce de leche!), we scoffed them down before I thought to take any photos ...

If gorgeous presentation is what you're looking for however, you'll be disappointed - there's no bells and whistles here - but if wafer-thin crepês rock your world, look no further.

And don't just take my word for it ...

They're 'Crespelicious'!

moving on up

So we sold it!

And in a couple of months we'll be leaving Observatory, something we'd sometimes thought would never happen. We'll be leaving Obs and moving to our dream house where we'll all be thin and beautiful and fart rosebuds and no one will ever tantrum or get sick or call me 'Poo poo Mum' ever again. Right?

Right.

But it's bitter-sweet, this leaving the old hood.

On Saturday we grabbed a break in the rainstorms and walked around Obs delivering Friday's birthday invitations.

And I was struck, again, by how lucky we've been with our little community. We hand delivered 8 invitations on Saturday. 8 invitations to 8 little friends who live within easy walking distance of our house.

I think that's a bit special.

buying & selling in a time of children

We've put our house on the market. As of this morning there's a big yellow sign on our front gate and I'm imagining the neighbours are all a-twittering out there (as in twittering like birds not tweeting like people with nothing better to do, but you never know ...).
We've had our offer accepted on a gorgeous place on the other side of town, but as it all hangs in the balance until this place is sold we're walking a strange line between elation and apprehension. Interesting times.

Trials and tribulations of buying and selling in a time of (small) children:

We're trying to only give them as much information as they need, or can deal with, or we can deal with, but are still having to answer some pretty interesting questions .... 'So our new house will still have my room in it hey Mum? My room will still look exactly like this, just the rest of the house will be different right?'
'And we'll still have a pool hey Mum? I mean, we can't leave this ugly pool behind?'
Overheard to little sister: 'Just hide that juice bottle under your bed, we don't like it, it can stay here when we move.'

We're trying not to nag them too much about keeping the house tidy while we work ourselves to the ground getting show-house ready.
We continually weigh up the pro's of them being preoccupied in a game which allows us time to get other stuff done, versus the cons of the game in question being moving the entire contents of the playroom onto our bed.

We have sotto voce cryptic half-Afrikaans conversations about bonds and agents and try not to swear - they understand swearing in any language.

I discover that there are few things as demeaning as completing bond application forms when you're a stay-at-home-mum with a tiny personal income and a BA English degree. A walking stereo-type.
The first time we applied for a bond I was a business lady, in a not quite business suit but with with a folder of relevant docs and a meaningful signature and a sharp haircut. This time I wrote N/A (not applicable) more times then I care to mention on all the forms while attempting to entertain a 2 yr old with some paper clips and a bank deposit form.
As we arrived at the bank I'd turned to my husband and said, 'Damn, should I have power-dressed a bit for this?' He looked at my jeans, sneakers and sticky-faced toddler and said, 'Nah, you're dressed for work.' Then he ducked.

I discover that the standard rules of parenting apply to all situations. The toddler will fill its nappy seconds before the estate agent arrives. The nearly-5 yr old will want to 'be naked' at the most inopportune time. Someone will fall and crack skull and scream hysterically as you answer an all-important call from the bank. Someone will discover the box of toys you've been collecting (with stealth and subterfuge) for the charity shop and declare the contents to be The Most Favourite Toys in the Whole World and How Dare You even consider doing away with them?!

Fun times. Interesting times. We go on show on Sunday. Hold thumbs for us!

the crossing

This week I got back on my bike for the first time in months. I've managed 3 cycles in 5 days - not long distances but I've been pumping it, making those sessions work.

I'm hoping to cycle Sunday to play-group some mornings. It's about 2.5 km away, perfect distance to transport a chatty small person on the back of my bike and a good 5 km round trip for me.
Most of the route is along the recently established Liesbeeck Parkway cycle route, a nicely paved designated pathway well away from the busy road.

However, to get there I have to cross the railway line. I have 3 options.

1. Over the very busy (at that time of the morning) Station Rd bridge. Narrow pavement, fast cars and delivery vans, tricky exit at the bottom.
2. Train station subway. 1000 steps down, 1000 steps up. We'd both have to dismount and I'd have the joy of maneuvering bike and toddler up and down through hurried morning commuters.
3. Tunnel subway a bit further down the line. No steps, rancid smell of piss, potentially insalubrious encounters.

I'm thinking the bridge?

I did a test run with Sunday yesterday morning, a bit later in the day so as to avoid the worst of the traffic. She loves being on the bike, cruising along singing softly, remarking on the passing sights.
Until a very loud and stinky truck passed us, revving it up over the crest of the bridge.
There was silence behind me, and then a small whimper.

Or maybe that was me ...

Cycling Sunday to school is going to be just the same as every other aspect of parenting in a city - a question of trying to make the best informed choice from a series of options each with their own risks, and hoping like hell that you've made the best one.
Wait, maybe that's just the same as Parenting. Anywhere.

Or maybe that's just Life. Eish.

tweede nuwe jaar!

We were really disappointed to miss the Cape Minstrels parading through the city centre yesterday - they were 3 hours (!) late and after a full morning at the South African Museum and other fun in the City we had two tired little girls and so headed home, a little sad.

But then, just as we gearing up for bath time yesterday evening, we heard music close by and quickly raced through Observatory with pram and dog to catch up with a local troupe, parading home just a few streets away.

Can you see unbridled jump for joy excitement bottom left?

Failing light and fast moving children didn't allow for good snaps but we had such a great time, marching alongside and behind the group, rocking to the big band, jiving with the kiddies, waving to the spectators.
It's hard to describe the energy and charisma of a minstrel troupe. You kinda had to be there, and we were!

As fun, if not more so, than the huge (and probably somewhat overwhelming) parade in town would have been. And that much more special for experiencing it just a few streets from home.

With the light fading we turned back before getting washed into the heart of Salt River and ears ringing, we danced home.
The music continued, in the distance, well into the night.

anonymous beautification

I've been seeing, and photographing, these prettily painted telephone boxes all over Observatory for the last couple of months.
Someone's been painting local street scenes and landscapes on them - usually all four sides - for some time now.

Who is it and when do they paint them?

I'd like to know so I could thank them.

Random urban beautification? Yes please.

Has anyone seen any others in Cape Town? Keep your eyes open this weekend and let me know.

In other news, it seems Baby Voldermort works both ways. Ever since I wrote that post I've had the most divine, chatty, cooperative, funny, reasonable, helpful, affectionate little four yr old. It's been lovely.
Oh crap, I hope I haven't reverse-flipped BV right back at myself! Ack.

everybody needs them

Good neighbours that is.

Late one night a few months back I heard the ominously distinctive noises of someone breaking into the house next door. I leaped from my warm bed, peered out the window, just in time to hear glass, a lot of glass, smashing.
It was so loud it even woke Husband. Yup, that loud.

We huddled in the shadows outside the front door, whispering details and our address to the security company on the phone, watching aghast as two figures in hoodies brazenly moved about in our neighbour's front garden.

It was cold, really cold, but we kept our posts, warmed by our conviction that we were assisting in bringing some bad guys to book.

Just before the security guards arrived we realised in distress that the burglars were readying to leave. They carried bags out to a waiting vehicle, parked just out of sight.
Husband crept out from our hiding place.
'They're leaving,' I hissed, disappointed. 'Get the reg number but don't be a hero!'

The car started up, bumped off the pavement and sped away. Giving us just enough time to read the slogan on the side:
24h Glass Repairs.

ADT Security roared round the corner, adrenalin-fulled armed guards jumping out, 'Did they come back?' they were shouting.
'Er ...'

Turns out our neighbours were broken into (for realz) a couple of hours earlier. The intruder/s made off with a DVD player. The cops were on the scene in minutes.
We heard nothing.

Everybody needs good neighbours. Even our neighbours.

the 'burbs: observatory

Observatory is often referred to as 'colourful'. A nice word, a word used to paint over the exceedingly grimy cracks in this old suburb's facade. A bright and cheery word to describe a 'burb which could in all fairness also be called 'grimy', 'seedy', 'rough' - you get the idea.

There are other nice words used by estate-agents and the like to describe this old Grande Dame of Cape Town ~ 'bohemian' is a favourite, 'diverse' is a nice trendy one, 'unique' is utterly transparent in its patronising glibness.

Obs is Obs, she embodies and defies all of the above labels, and warrants far more too, good and bad.
But 'colourful' is the one she deserves the most, not least of all in the most literal sense of the word.
Colour. Full.

 

  

  

  

Some residents even like to match their house colour to their car ... or maybe the other way around?

 

She might not be a pot o' gold, but she's home.

not-so-free tree

Some well meaning hippie gave Friday a tree this last weekend. We were at the Puppet Parade for the Out the Box Festival, a strange and beautiful event, when a woman dressed as a tree made out of recycled plastic bags started gathering all the (wide-eyed) kids around while her minions handed out Cape Ash saplings.
A free tree accompanied by instant environmental guilt and all-consuming 4 yr old anxiety.

'Mum, I must water my tree.'
'Mum, if I don't water the tree it'll DIE Mum.'
'I didn't water the tree today Mum, I PROMISED that lady I'd water the tree.'

Really? This is how we teach small children about greening the planet? Small children who, I might add, live in a really built up urban area, few with gardens large enough to accommodate a 15 metre tall tree.

It's a lovely sentiment, seemingly good activism, handing out trees at public events. But not so much for small kids.
My Mum was a primary school teacher in the 90's and she used to get really cross when people lectured Grade 1's about the hole in the ozone layer. Just one pfffft of an aerosol and ka-zam! hole in sky, searing heat, all your mummies and doggies burnt to a crisp die die die ...!

Sure we should teach out kids social responsibility in all forms from as early as possible, but I don't agree with burdening them with guilt about things they can't actively influence yet.
Get them to recycle - yes. Teach them not to litter - goes without saying. Explain about trees and oxygen and green spaces - of course.
But only give them what they can manage. A tree in a can is not such a thing.

And so, as a nice conscious middle-class mummy, I find myself watering the tree, worrying about the tree, appealing to friends and family to adopt the tree.
It doesn't even seem to be a Western Cape native or I'd plant it in the forest.

Cape Ash tree anyone? Free to a good home.

walkies!

Colour me Katie did it first. And did it very nicely at that.



But the Balloon Dog is becoming a bit of an annual tradition for us too. Last year's puppy hung around for weeks, slowly deflating in weird and irregular ways until one day Friday came to me with a small piece of shrunken brown plastic and declared it Time to Throw Balloon Dog Away.
An important milestone for a then 3 year old I thought.



Our new friend is however in his first flush of youth. Filled with exuberance and adventurous spirit he had his first walk around the neighbourhood this afternoon, checking out the sights and sounds of Observatory.
And the smells, oh boy the smells!
Much better than bobbing around the Society of the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (SPCA) stand at the Baba Indaba, that's for sure.