So I’m mid-air to London today. Only for three days, thank goodness I’m flying first class. Although not much different to business, making it quite difficult to justify the large increase in expense (rather donate it to charity).
Well, well, well, what can I say about London? I’m not about to take on the thousands of words already dedicated to this center of the world.
However for being that, it is bizarre how after a certain hour you would think, as a major capital city of the globe, one would be able to get anything. Well, not so. Everything closes. In London a simple box of Buscopan for upset stomachs COULD cost up to 100 pounds. In order not to be an hour late for a pleasant dinner at Le Caprice (down the road from the Otto restaurant and the Ritz hotel) to avoid going to the only open pharmacy in London, twenty five minutes away by taxi. You can imagine how we had to negotiate with a concierge of the afore mentioned hotel which I wasn’t even staying in. No wonder things can be costly in London.
Anyway, a few years ago I really did not enjoy London. I didn’t understand the attraction with that gloomy weather (pretty much like San Francisco). All I am going to say is that after spending more time here, it grows on you.
If I compare it to my base, where I live now, a city I have come to love and defend and from a country that I have adopted as my own, the more I travel the more I realize I am not sure how I survived so many years in South Africa. Although I have not spent the last 9 winters there, I am realizing I need to start staying in one place if I ever want to build anything more concrete in terms of career and relationships. At the same time my patriotic state or my love affair with Cape Town is ending. A city and country whom I never abandoned and continued to come back to, but whose people never supported me in my talents. It is now apartheid the other way around. As a young, female artist, ballet dancer, or presenter… I don’t stand a chance.
It looks like I seem to always be at the wrong place at the wrong times. I need to be discovered and have a new belief that I start creating the right places at the right times. Trust that I can be that exception, persevere and continue against all odds in SA. After all, isn’t luck a prepared mind meeting circumstance? I can’t help think, London, New York, Rio de Janeiro all have more of it.
London is at least equipped for bad weather. Girls go out in little summer dresses under huge warm coats that can be coat checked, unheard of in the rainy, wet windy Cape winter days.
Cape Town is such a fantastic city, but very small. Although the world is small in every circle, the fair cape is not accommodating when the city becomes dead. Central heating does not exist! If there are one or two ballets a year we are lucky. London has exhibitions, shows, concerts, places to go, restaurants to try, etc… It makes up for the boredom that sets in in Cape Town.
So seen through my eyes, I’m ready to move. A good compromise between NY and London would be ideal. Unless of course, I have another passion keeping me in SA. I still hold it in my intention to convince my parents to get out of that crazy Africa. It is as if the ANC has forgotten it is in power. It is supposed to be a governing party, responsible for the welfare of ALL South Africans and not supporting the likes of Winnie Mandela and J. Malema who thinks he’s still in a liberation movement, singing his outdated song kill the boer.
London also has easier means of travel. A flight to the Caribbean for a quick weekend away can be possible for only thirty pounds. Closer and far less expensive than when one lives in a place 13 hours away from anywhere else that might be civilized.
Many would freak if they knew I gave away my ticket for Wembley soccer this Saturday night. I think I might be the only Brazilian that does not care for soccer, although I do tend to embrace all things in life, and believe in experiencing, as long it doesn’t hurt your own body and soul, or others. And I did enjoy the festivities in the world cup. I once also turned down an invitation for Wimbledon tennis when Venus and Serena played in the finals. The only thing I would have gone for was the strawberries, oh and another harmless experience.
