I went up to Johannesburg on business yesterday. It was essentially an enormous waste of time, as these things generally are, but I am now able to offer this traveller advisory to those unfamiliar with the City of Gold: If you don’t know where you are going, then stay on the freeways. You’ll still be lost, but at least you’ll know how lost you are. Once you leave the thin comfort of the elevated byways behind and descend onto the mean streets, you’ll discover that Jo’burg’s transport planners don’t believe in directional signage. Their motto seems to be, “We know our way around. Buy a map, you fucking tourist”.
On the plus side, I did (eventually and after a journey that took far longer than it would have for a local resident) get to meet and have dinner with fellow blogger Katt last night. People who know me are aware that I am seldom at a loss for words, but sometimes I struggle to find the right ones. To say that the evening was tons of fun would be correct, but understated to the point of being virtually subterranean. How can I possibly convey the pleasure of trading appalling elephant jokes and playing the “I’m more screwed up than you” game?
I blame my soggy mental state on the fact that I got to bed late and that I’m trying to write this on my PDA at Johannesburg airport. Much as I’d like to share my thoughts on this place, words* truly fail me.
* Although ‘überclusterfuck’ does bubble to the surface every now and then.