I have quickly learnt to love the wind; without it we would bake to a certain death in these the Cape's hottest summer months: i.e. now.
Sunday reached 40 degrees centigrade; Sunday night was hell: in the end I slept naked on the tiled floor, by the balcony sliding door, despite the noise from the streets, made by the rest of the city who were unable to sleep. If Hell did exist it would be without a breeze, with not a breath of air, not unlike Cape Town on Sunday night.
Which is why I welcome it when cloud pours over Table Mountain like it's doing today: it means the wind is howling in Woodstock, and much less so on this side of the city, where I work. Tonight I'll sleep peacefully.
Despite the wind, like today, which I now welcome and appreciate (even on my bike), I thrive on my bicycle rides to and from work.
It's the nuances of this rich and textured suburb that both intrigues and inspires me: it oozes history, culture, incredible architecture, also poverty and sleeze, and ever increasing pockets of rapidly merging creativity. Also never forget the colourful and fascinating community whose voices are being silenced by the persistent glacier-like creep of a gentrification process now approaching critical mass.
I am ecstatic to be living here, and to be doing so without a car.