May 07 2007
Pigs at the Trough – The South African Cheese Festival
[Saturday April 28, 2007]
The plan for the day is to drive to Franschhoek to see the South African Cheese Festival. The drive takes about 40 minutes and the closer we get, the more cars there are.
I am not the festival/street fair/concert type. It’s not the event – I like music and people watching and seeing all the bright shiny objects and smelling the greasy succulence of roasted meats.
What I don’t like is the hassle:
- Traffic
- Searching for parking
- Crowds
Crowds are what get to me. Probably because I’m four-foot-ten-and-three-quarter-inches short. I tend to get buffeted by bodies, stepped on, hemmed in and hoo-boy, I’m right at armpit level.
Nail-in-the-eye fun!
We drive into the festival parking and the ground is damp and muddy in places from the rain. We’re all wearing our Crocs. Shirley and Laverne are surprised at the crowds.
Laverne and Shirley review the glossy brochure, checking out the map and event schedule. There’s only one event they want to attend – the cooking demonstration featuring Nataniel.
Nataniel…I’ll get back to him later.
The people are pouring in and Shirley is looking at the hordes crowding around the food stands and samples of wine and cheese.
She and Laverne don’t generally do big crowded events. I don’t either but try to get into the spirit of the festival. Sure it’s about cheese but where there’s cheese, there’s usually WINE.
Cheese and wine. Good Shtuff!
I need to use the facilities and spot a line of women. Just women. You know what that means.
Toilets!
Toilets are called Toilets. Not Restrooms, Bathrooms, or The Ladies. Toilets.
No giant aquamarine plastic porta-potties reeking of chemicals like we have in the States. Oh, no. The Capetonians have it going on with the portable toilets.
These were chi-chi portable toilets. They looked like giant freezer boxes on wheels and held two full-service bathrooms.
There was a real toilet and sink, running water, the whole bit – the toilet flushed and everything. There were steps going up to the door. It was the type of setup you’d find in a mobile home. There was also a woman servicing the toilets who would indicate if a toilet was free or not.
Since I had a toilet all to myself I was able to take some photos without the usual sideways glances.
While I was busy Laverne purchased tasting glasses for us and we start heading towards the wine stalls.
As I attempt to make my way to the front I notice that people are getting their wine taste and not moving. Everyone is pressing forward. Laverne is tall and she looks down at me. “You just have to shove forward,†she says.
Sigh.
I nudge my way up and get a glass.
As I maneuver my way to various tastings, I watch some seriously freaky behavior. People are pressing forward, eyes fixed, glittering and avaricious. I am reminded of pigs at a trough: a mass of wriggling pink flesh greedily pushing forward and once snout is to trough, not giving way. Once they get to the front, they don’t move.
A boy who’s at eye level with small bowls of jam is methodically scooping the stuff onto cracker pieces and shoving them into his mouth. No one is watching him.
At one stall a stout woman not much taller than I is bearing down on me. She’s actually heading away from a stall. She’s not looking at me – she’s probably spotted a tastier piece of cheese. I attempt to be polite and move out of her way but she barrels into and past me.
No pausing. I’m not even a speedbump.
I try not to think about Purell, germs and all this touching of food. I have pieces of cheese, tastes of wine and don’t feel up to eating especially when it involves waiting in a long line for some greasy foodstuff. It all smells delicious but who knows how many tiny cubes of cheese I’d eaten.
Shirley and Laverne want to see the cooking demonstration featuring Nataniel. Nataniel is a celebrity – cabaret singer, writer, entertainer, and now cook. He’s bald, flamboyant, exfoliated, off-color, and mascaraed. He wears pointy shoes that curl at the tips and all his punchlines are in Afrikaans. I get the gist: eyerolls, wrist flicks and lip curls need no translation. The demonstration is very entertaining.
We exit the demonstration, look at the crowds and decide that it’s time to go.
Nice toilets!!
I bet it’s nice to have a sink to wash one’s hands after eating some greasy foodstuff. But how do you open the door after washing your hands? Do you 1) cover your hand with a piece of toilet paper to 2) grab the handle and open the door, and then 3) keep the door open with your foot while you roll up the toilet paper in a ball to attempt 4) an over-the-shoulder shot to either the toilet or wastebasket?
Jake: I open the door with the paper towel and either manage to toss it into the garbage before the door closes or I hold the door open with my foot or I toss it into some garbage receptacle outside of the bathroom.