The braai of human kindness

After almost being mugged one of my first few days in Cape Town, I began to feel the itsiest inkling of hate for Cape Town.  And, I felt unsafe.  How the hell was I supposed to do what I needed to do when it was so obviously a safety issue?  

Within just a few hours of sharing my frustration with my incredible friends, Angel and Anna, who also happen to be international queer activists, they trumpeted  the rainbow horn and goddamnit, everyone and their queer South African mother began Facebooking me, calling me, sending carrier pigeons my way to see how they could help or if I'd like to hang out.  

Berne, the director of Engender, invited me to a Cape Cultural Collective performance.  The collective is comprised of artists and musicians who work within a creative sphere to work through socio economic issues.  The performance was just lovely.  Hanging out at neighborhood bar with all of the artists afterwards was a definite trip highlight.

The next night, the owner of the hostel I was staying at invited me and a couple other guests to a family braai (bbq) where I enjoyed another slightly tipsy evening in the company of kind, interesting people.

I'm beginning to understand that I am a horrible tourist.  I do not enjoy wandering around to see tourist sights. I do not want to stand in line for 4 hours to get a ticket for something (unless it's a Bob Dylan concert or a Cutest Baby in America competition) and I sure as hell do not want my photo taken and then cheesily photoshopped onto a fake background.  

While sitting in Archbishop Tutu's church reading a newspaper, I serendipitously came across this quote by Bernard George Shaw, "A perpetual holiday is a good working definition of Hell." 

Yes. Yes, it is.  

But, I am content to be a tourist among niche communities. That I can do. There is something special about the way in which the tendrils of community spread out wide over the world and unexpectedly grasp you when you're feeling alone and down.