Wondrous Spanish
A young couple are attempting to feed the ostriches. It’s a sight to behold. An ostrich is a large animal, the adults standing at least over two metres tall and they’re not exactly delicate creatures. The farm provides a full tour of their facility, with a broad history of this flightless bird, the process of farming them, a detailed breakdown of their post-farm usefulness to capitalism and of course, the option to feed some of them roaming in a fenced field near the rambling visitors centre.
Now, if you’re the typical North American tourist in Cape Point, it’s likely you’ve not encountered an ostrich before. Unless of course you’re a brand turd and have a handbag or maybe a pair of green ostrich leather shoes. Not that ostriches have green skin even if they can be seen in fields of green grass. What follows is difficult to describe but makes the classic funny video that made YouTube the platform it is today. Feeding plate flying in the air, the tourist jumping back, shrieking and the rest all happen in textbook Laurel & Hardy sequence. The day and their fingers are saved by their guide and the kindly ostrich handler.
With the tourist provided laughing show over, I return to work. In the restaurant which was blissfully empty and quiet just half an hour ago, the lunch rush has arrived. There’s a predominance of German, a light sprinkling of some Italian and even the robust howzit of holy landers. The locals are easily recognisable. Almost every one of them is wearing the ubiquitous K-Way puffer jacket and none too stylish jeans or way too tight tights. ABBA’s dancing queen is playing and a few children have made themselves a dance floor on an old kelim in a corner.
Plates of ostrich fillet, ostrich burgers, ostrich bolognese and ostrich carpaccio float past along with more than a few glasses of wine. There are also a few sugary fizzy drinkers in the lunch crowd and the pop of their cans opening catches the attention of the children, who’s eyes swivel sharply towards the sound. Their mouths open involuntarily and they immediately turn towards their primary humans in a plea for another hit. Maybe it’s because they’re on holiday, the humans relent and soon more cans of fizzy sugary drinks make their way to the little ones.
The adults are all vocal. Understandably so, they’ve most likely just come from the national park across the road where they stood at the south-westerly tip of the African continent with nothing but the windswept South Atlantic between Antarctica and them. They’ve been pummelled by the wind at the old lighthouse and maybe even done the hike up to the view point. Rousing stuff and all that sea air and wind is enough to whet anyone’s appetite. As an added bonus, everything’s so cheap as Gunther shares with me from the next table, where everyone is tucking into the fillet that costs more than their server gets paid for the whole day. At least they refer to it as a fe-lay and not a fill-it, that close cousin of millet. But let me not blemish this lovely little blog with those pesky little details.
Back to the local, making several requests to change and adjust her lunch order. The expression on the face of the host remains fixed while he makes fastidious notes on his overflowing notepad, quickly flipping to the next page to accommodate all the changes Frikkie se vrou has requested. A few minutes later, her plate floats past and it’s essentially got a single ostrich burger patty sitting forlornly on it. It must be the remains of the burger advertised on the daily blackboard. Credit to Frikkie, his burger floats past looking like an actual burger with all the trimmings along with a beer to properly round off the indulgence.
Spanish enters the room while I have my head down shovelling words into a Google doc to fund my extravagant lifestyle and I lift my eyes and then the rest of my head to take in the source of the mellifluous voice. I’m rewarded for my effort by a face carved by the G-ds themselves and I have to pause to take in the sight of an especially beautiful human form.
Now please don’t come at me with there’s only one G-d; if this is so, why are Muslims being hounded in Modi’s fascist India? But, let’s not have mission drift in this little blog. My wondrous stare is met by a smile that only lifts the sheer magnificence of the creation standing mere metres away. I remember my manners and my work; return the smile, nod a greeting and then abruptly disappear behind the ample back of the chef who’s making her customary appearance.
I get back to the stony ground of funding my existence and am lost for a bit as a thread I’ve been pulling on for a while to write this work piece finally unravels and I can see its entire form. Typically lost to whatever it is I am engaged in; it takes the conclusion of that chapter for me to pause, remove my earphones and return my consciousness to the room and the beings around me. Wondrous Spanish is seated quietly at the table right next to me. She is now staring and I return the compliment I failed to offer earlier, smile, say hello and consider how a visage can have such an effect on mere lesser endowed humans like myself.
Her English is far superior to my Spanish which consists of almost zero useful words for polite conversation and her heavily accented English only adds another layer to the appeal of her voice. The conversation meanders a little through the usual topics strangers meeting at a tourist hotspot navigate.
Yes, it’s a holiday even if it’s a short one. And yes, it’s a trip I had to do especially when the boyfriend decided to end it after we had booked. Sorry; I comment. No. it’s fine, I have already talked too much about what has gone past today. Thank you anyway. How you say? …fascinated. Yes fascinated by the continent although not in the way my friends are with the north and the Mediterranean edge. After all, we see so many North Africans in my city on a daily basis; it now holds little mystery. The Southern end has always been more interesting, almost more or how do you say real? Anyway, I’m glad I have come to visit as planned. It’s been an education in so many ways and now I know why I’ve always felt since I was child that I needed to come here. No, I don’t know any of my ancestors were here before and that it might have been a deep thread that bound me to this place over generations. It’s just my own desire since I was little and first saw a map with this southern tip of the continent and just sort of knew I had to make this journey someday. But I am, how do you say in English? Occupying this whole conversation?
I laugh and revert, no that was just your ancestors occupying a chunk of South America.
She laughs too and the breaking of the mould carved by the Gods reveals another layer of beauty. She continues, again, I don’t know enough or is it much? of my family to know if we’re related to Cortes and that period of my country’s history. I know what you are saying and yes, it brings us much shame to think about how we destroyed people for gold. But it is the same here in your country, no? Sorry, I don’t even know if you’re local, I just thought from how comfortable you look here.
We continue to speak as the tables are cleared. I start to pack up and she sees the car keys. Let me guess, the modern classic in the parking lot…yes?
It’s my turn to laugh. Yes, how did you guess I ask.
It fit’s the whole image and she winks.
If this was a Tweet (or is that a Xweet now?) I’d be doing the *seen* post now. Ahh, you’re blushing like a little boy.
A drink and some time later, her tour guide is paid, thanked and shooed away. He asked so much about my boyfriend, I’m glad that’s come to an end.
We head off to the modern classic and Wondrous Spanish beams as Sir David Green beeps open. She inhales the smell of well-preserved leather and marvels at the general condition.
Please, I can drive? I have licence. Given my current state of enamourment, she could ask for the holy land and I’d hand it over.
About a week later my phone pings, it’s a notice of a fine. I log into the platform to check the details are in order and open up the image. It’s the typical grainy quality of an traffic enforcement camera picture; and with no Jason Bourne type enhancements available to me, I peer into the image.
The details of the actual speed shall remain classified but what I can share is that Wondrous Spanish is in the driver's seat, her face lit up, eyes focussed on the road and Dave is sideways coming around a bend on the coastal road at the southern tip of this vast continent. The rest of image shows me in the passenger seat, hands gripping the fastened seatbelt at the top. I’m also smiling but unlike the driver, I have eyes only for the driver.
Wondrous Spanish is not your typical modern classic daily driver review, if you’re looking for that, you’ll find it on Jalopnik.
© Jesh Baker for Oppi Stoep 2023
