Tuesday, November 25, 2008

I would like to point out....

To those of you that didnt pick it up... yes, pretentious. Me? No. I watch them and laugh at the idiocy. Hence the writing of it in the blog......

Monday, November 24, 2008

Its MY ass!

Camps Bay is an interesting area in Cape Town. Most of the city is fairy pretentious anyway. Girls get dressed up in stilettos to go to the shop to buy cigarettes. And because a vast majority of the modeling, fashion and advert filming industry takes place in Cape Town, most of these girls are gorgeous. I feel positively homely. Camps Bay, however, takes it to a whole new level. There isn't a breast free from scalpel interference, or a face over 40 with a wrinkle. Since our restaurant is 'the hottest spot in Cape Town' (Cosmopolitan Magazine.. thank you very much) we are inundated with people wishing to 'be seen'. We are also obscenely expensive.

I think however, that for those of you who frequent the service industry, and have not worked in it, I have some pointers for you....

1. NEVER, no matter how important you are, say 'Do you know who I AM?' when the manager cant find your booking. We don't care. You are one of many. How nice for you.

2. Don't be rude to the waiters. Your food, and your drinks, WILL have a few mishaps on its way to your table. The staff get the job in a place like this because they are best, and cause they are ballsy. They don't really care what you think.

3. When your table orders drinks, order all at once. I cant actually tell you just how annoying it is when you have to run back and forth to a table ferrying individual drinks because people are being indecisive. The barman gets annoyed, and shouts at the waiter. The waiter gets annoyed and shouts at the runner. The runner gets annoyed and walks away to go play with glasses, and then you have to wait 30 minutes for someone to bring you your food, because everyone is suddenly over worked.

4. Dont go to a very expensive restaurant unless you can afford it. We can spot you a mile away. You order tap water instead of bottled, and ask the price of everything before you make a decision. Don't gasp when we tell you the price. Its not on the menu for a reason. If you have to ask, honestly, you cant afford it.

5. Tip your waiter. If you don't tip respectably, we REMEMBER you. And you will get the trainee the next time you visit because we always give the bad tippers to the newbie. Hierarchy is wonderful :-D

And finally:

6. Never slap the bum a waitress with a tray of drinks in her hand. She may 'accidentally' spill them on you. I did. And you will look like an absolute idiot to your friends. He did. *sniggers*

Use it, dont use it. I look forward to the NEXT guy that slaps my ass....

Sunday, November 23, 2008

I take it all back!


I started the other blog, and then realised that not only do I still have material to write about, but I also don't have the energy right now to jump backwards in time and tell the story of the past. So I deleted it. A little impulsive maybe. But it was just staring me in the face every time I logged in, and I couldn't bear it mocking me any longer.

So tomorrow I shall start the tale of tonight. Well tonight began at 10am this morning and ended at 2am with a call to police emergency response. Why can my life never be dull?

I shall tell the tale when I have had some sleep, but right now I am off to crash. I have worked 30hrs in the last 37. Why, oh WHY do I do this? I get bored otherwise I think...

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Moving on

I feel that this chapter is now over. The craziness and the humour of my 5th world existence is now past, and its time to move along.

Where I am now is wonderful. I have a job I love, in a restaurant I love, working right on the beach. Its a fantastic fancy place, top of the Cosmo list next month, and I love the people I work with and the customers I serve.

However, the reason I started blogging, oh so long ago, is because I had a massive amount of information and funny moments I wanted to record, and Sudan was where I was, so Sudan is where I started. The place I felt it most though, was when I was still in London, and so I have started a new blog, here. Its retrospective and begins with me leaving Cape Town, and eventually will end where I started in Sudan.

This is where I am right now. Its the perfect place to live out the summer.

See you all another time, in another place.

Thursday, November 6, 2008

3rd world... or whatever

I am constantly at a loss as to what to call South Africa. Technically, South Africa is a 'Dualistic' economy. This means that parts of the country are 1st world. Thank you British Empire. Yes yes, you Dutch colonists can say all you like, but when you get right down to it, no one was better than the British Empire at building a good road with a roundabout or two for decoration, or setting up a nice universally unfair tax system.

Unfortunately, thanks to our rather infamous former government (among others of its predecessors) the rest of the country is pretty much buggered. Yes, that's right, buggered. The truly startling thing about Apartheid was that it kept this bit well hidden. Well, from South Africans anyway. International news is much more effective when local news is run by the government. "Poverty? What poverty? Where?" was pretty much the official stand point. That and standing with fingers in ears going la-la-la-la-la whenever anyone raised a valid point, or a sanction for that matter. If la-la-la didn't work, a nice quick bullet to the head normally did the trick. As a result, South Africa is largely 3rd world. People outside the cities do, in fact, live in huts. They do, in fact, herd (and sell their daughters for) cows. This is not a common 1st world pursuit. To be 1st world you have to PAY someone to take your daughter, in the form of a dowry, or in more recent times, a wedding. Failing that, one can pay someone else to watch the cows and this makes you 'respectable'.

What's my point? Oh yes, the blurring of the lines. The 3rd world has kinda mixed into the 1st now. It is uncommon, but not unheard of, for neighbors in a nice suburb to be disturbed by the ritual slaughter of a chicken in the middle of the night. Now I am not saying that the slaughter of chickens makes you 3rd world. I mean, essentially abattoirs slaughter chickens every day, and we even add ritual to it to make it Kosher or Halal. It is, essentially, ritual slaughter on a grand scale, but done where you cant see it. What makes it feel a little wrong is the fact that its happening next door, in someones back yard, on the lawn.

I digress. I am in a funny mood. It might be the single malt I found in my Dads cupboard. Mmmmm....

So, the third world has entered our suburbs. How, you ask? In the form of guards. I arrived home in Cape Town, and on the way back from the airport, and into the suburb where my father lives, I noticed spaced out wooden huts (nice, respectable, clearly well made ones). Each had a nice bright number painted on it.

Dad: Oh darling, you don't know about the new guard huts! Every one of these huts has a guard in them at night. Every resident has a whistle, so that if there are any problems they can alert the nearest guard and they will receive help.

I sat for a moment speechless. This is necessary?

Dad: Oh darling, it's wonderful. When I get home at night now, I don't even THINK of highjackings anymore. It's such wonderful peace of mind. Isn't it great?

'Yes, yes it is,' I replied as I tried to get my head around this. At night we now have a guard at every street corner, watching us. It feels oddly Nazi-esque, somehow. While I am grateful for the added protection, as I work nights and will be coming home late, I am slightly horrified that its needed. What will happen when the thugs run out of other hunting grounds, and realise that a guard is fairly easy to kill? Fenced compounds? Areas with designated movement?

Ah well, we shall see. In other news, being home is nice. I have a bed again, not a sofa, and (*bounces*) a cleaning lady! I have a kitchen to play in, and a car to use, and a seaside and mountain I am going to glue my eyes to for the next 3 months. Will keep you updated on the new job when I decide if I really want to be working there :-P

P.S. Speaking of weddings, my Dad mentioned today that he has money put aside for my wedding. I am kinda tempted to have one now, just for the sake of using the money. Am I bad?

Monday, November 3, 2008

Ladies and gentlemen, its country number 5....

Indeed. My 5th country in 3 months. Less than 3 months in fact. I left Sudan on the 1st of September. I went straight to Nairobi, where I had a lovely evening with my mother, and flew to the UK in the morning. From there I went to the USA, and then back to the UK. And now... South Africa.

Yes, this traveling mass of insane humanity is moving on to yet another adventure. This one is the adventure of going home. And in true Miss P. style, the decision was made in about 2 hours.

The conversation went like this (in two msn windows)

Miss Tig: Hey I have a job for you if you want it. Great money!
Me: Yes, but you are in Cape Town, and I am in London.
Miss Tig: Well, when you planning on coming home? Cause this guy really needs someone to help him.
Me: I really dont know.

Me: Hey Miss M. Miss Tig says she has this great job for me, but its in Cape Town. Doesnt that suck?
Miss M: Well, you could always get the ticket home on my credit card, and we can sort the cash out later.
Me: Ummm...

And that was it. So I am going back to Cape Town. I am packing up my stuff into an ever decreasing package and shipping myself back to the country I honestly didnt think I would live in again.

I fly on Wednesday. Well.... here I go. Wish me luck.