A weekend in the city

There were so many reasons to get out of the house last weekend and see the city.

Firstly, it was my birthday. It was (in my opinion) a significant birthday, and my first as a Jozi resident.

Secondly, I have yet another unwelcome guest at my house, and less time spent at home means less chance of bumping into him. Although Henry (the angry-looking but misunderstood Parktown prawn) has been relocated to the furthest corner of the garden (with the help of my landlady and a sturdy container), Keyser Söze (the rain spider) is still lurking in the shadows somewhere. As soon as the skies darken, as they did this afternoon, I start worrying about if and when he will pay me a visit.

Lastly, a friend has recently moved to the city. Although this place is still relatively new and unfamiliar to me, I need to be her tour guide, and there’s no better excuse for getting out. Her “newness” also makes her able to point out things that I have stopped noticing in the six months I have been here, things I now take for granted.

Johannesburg is an interesting place to a newcomer, and a surprising one. Despite the moans and groans about the traffic (I am yet to be stuck in a traffic jam), it is fairly easy to get around. My map book is already coming apart through overuse, but I have never found myself hopelessly lost, which, taking into account my attention span and sense of direction, probably says more about the city and its layout than any navigation skills I might have.

Once you get used to looking for landmarks, rather than road names, and the fact that within moments one can go from driving through lush, tree-lined suburbs to driving through a bleak, concrete environment (complete with litter blowing through the empty streets, the modern urban equivalent of the usual tumbleweeds one sees in dusty old western films), you’ll be just fine.

One of my favourite venues in Jo’burg is Intermission, a large, industrial gallery space 18 storeys above the heart of the CBD. It has hosted some fantastic exhibitions, as well as the launch of Bang Chong, a video by Jo’burg skateboard company Familia (more about that later). It may not be the best venue for gigs, for a number of reasons, but what it lacks in terms of sound quality and atmosphere, it more than makes up for with the view. It is the Jo’burg skyline as seen in tourism brochures and television commercials, marked by the tower and the flashing Vodacom sign on Ponte, with a tangle of twinkling lights between, and I don’t know if the novelty of that will ever wear off for me.

Last Saturday it hosted Qbert, the infamous scratch DJ, and I was thrilled that a venue like this, which reminds you so forcefully that you are in the heart of the city, was chosen to host a performer whose art form emerges from, celebrates and is a defining feature of the urban environment. I encourage anyone who has not been to events in the city, who is too scared to travel there at night or thinks that it is too far out of the way, to try it at least once. There is an energy there, maybe more noticeable to a “tourist” like myself, that is missing from the suburbs, and it excited me enough to make me want to live here in the first place.

I could wax lyrical about this place for ages, about the ways my friend and I gushed about the art scene, the way theatre and music are generally supported here, the ridiculousness of parking in Melville (which at first to me was a charming quirk of the suburb, but is now an everyday irritation), how encouraging it is to see restaurants overflowing throughout the week, not just on weekends, with people who are willing to take time out from their otherwise hectic days to enjoy the company of friends (something often missing from other cities). I could, but I know that everything I say that illustrates my naive excitement about my new home will be met with rolling eyes and an argument from the other side — one that points out the city’s faults, what it lacks and how it’s not how it used to be. I know that these arguments will be valid and founded on experience, and that eventually I might find out first-hand that it is all true.

But that hasn’t happened yet. And until that happens I will remain convinced that time spent not exploring my new home is time wasted. I will continue to annoy friends with my constant requests to see and do things they now find tedious, and I will continue to get a thrill every time I see that skyline. I’ll get over it, I’m sure. But I don’t want to; not just yet.