Did a New Years Eve gig in Kimberley. I dug the place. And I wasn't the first. Kimberley folk aren't squeamish about their humour and that's the best part of this job.
The management dispensed Big Time, Big Hole hospitality and a fine jol was had all round. People clapped and cheered and plied much alcohol and we gave 2004 a send-off of note, not the same note, or even adjacent keys, but a rousing farewell nevertheless.
The next day my bokkie and I made for the coast, driving through some of the major battlefields of the Anglo-Boer War. No raised eyebrows then when we made a petrol stop at Strydenburg (Conflict-town), but this tiny Karoo dorpie's name has nothing to do with fighting the British Empire. It came about because the members of the church committee responsible for deciding on the place's official title couldn't agree and consequently beat several shades of shit out of one another in the town square. Imagine the sound of it. "Skop hom in die ballas, Dominee!"
I'm betting, foolishly I suspect, that nobody can come up with a more bizarre SA place name. See me or raise me below. (Maybe I'd better rephrase that.)
Our next stop, Port Alfred, is a sleepy harbour town, which is a blessing, because otherwise it would have to wake up and face the fact that it's Port Alfred. I'm not recommending the large-scale brothelification of everything authentic just to please tourists; after all, we already have one Cape Town, but Port Alfred's inhabitants seem impervious to the beauty and bounty surrounding it. All those perfect sunsets can make you grumpy, which is probably why it imports the worst aspects of city life.
Beer f'rinstance. Despite living just down the road from some of South Africa's most exotic microbreweries, the pub offers only Castle, the country's generic urine sample, on tap. It takes a mind at ease with contemplating the mysteries of the ocean to come up with an unimaginative act of such Zen proportions. Zen again, fishermen shouldn't suffer apoplectic road rage when a few out of town cars clog up their one-lane, gravel, superhighway to the beach. It just makes them look even more nonplussed like Coelocanths who have stolen a bakkie in an attempt to fast track their evolution.
Tourists. Bah! That's why I'll quit now. See, the place we eventually spent our holiday is perfect and I don't want you lot pitching up and spoiling it. Cheers!
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