QMusings

Some of you may have noticed that I haven’t finished writing about my trip to South Africa.

Even if you don’t care about what I did there, you’re probably thinking that there are several Airport Restrooms that I had to use on the trip back home AND most likely, Ms. Q being Ms. Q, she braved a raised eyebrow or sideways glance in order to take photos.

You would be correct.

For you airport restroom afficionados, you’ll just have to wait. And I’m not promising nothing, either. Let’s return to South Africa …

[Saturday May 5, 2007]

My morning started with a run along the beach. I had injured myself last year and couldn’t run for 6 months. If you’re a runner, not being able to run is …a big bummer. Walking just doesn’t cut it. I was slowly regaining my strength and conditioning and being able to run has been wonderful. My runs along the beaches of the Western Cape contained moments of pure joy.

Since my arrival in Cape Town, Laverne, Shirley and I had managed to deplete the stockpile of “kitchen wine” (inexpensive everyday wine) and had begun making inroads into the Laverne’s luscious “cellared” (pricey) wines.

We needed to make a winery run. We needed to Load Up.

Our plan was to make a quick run to several nearby wineries, some new, some unfamiliar.

We were on a mission.

We went to Bloemendal but they didn’t have the Cabernet we wanted so we were outta there.

We zipped off to Eikendal Vineyards where I purchased 3 bottles of the 2003 Classique and 1 bottle of the 2002 Cabernet.

I donated 2 of the Classiques to Laverne’s Cellar and planned to take the Classique and the Cab to London with me.

We decided to stop at Spiers for lunch and maybe to purchase some wine.

The last time I was at Spiers was in 1997 and it had just a few buildings, a large dusty lot and a home for cheetahs. It was geared towards tourists providing picnic baskets, a path around a lake, and a gift shop.

The place is now a Tourist Destination with multiple restaurants, tented shops and open-air craft stalls.

I heard that Japanese tourists are dropped off by the busload.

I realize that busload is redundant.

Spiers is breathtaking in its commercialism and neatly organized parking lot.

The power was out in the area, which ruled out lunch. We didn’t linger. Shirley referred to one of her many wine route guides and directed Laverne to Kleinze Zalze. It was there we loaded up and we loaded up BIG. They had a wonderfully affordable Pinotage – 2005 vintage priced at 35 Rand. That’s about 6 bucks US. I purchased 4 bottles for “the kitchen” and I can’t even recall how many Laverne purchased.

It was now around 4pm, we’d missed out on lunch and we had a 7pm show to go to. What to do, what to do.

We needed to pack a picnic basket for the show and we needed something to eat soon! We decided to head for a mall. Ooooh. Mall. I looooves malls.

The search for parking.
The dazzle. The shine. The allure.
These shoes, that cologne, those throw pillows…will change your life.
Live the dream. Live the dream we’re selling.
But I digress.

We end up eating at a local chain restaurant and then head to Woolworths Foods for picnic-basket worthy food.

Laverne and Shirley had purchased tickets for a very special show. We were going to see Daniele Pascal sing at her home, Villa Pascal. You may you recall, we’d eaten at her restaurant, Pascal’s Bistro on our road trip through the Overberg.

I had never heard of Daniele Pascal. Shirley explained that Daniele was a French chanteuse, well known in South Africa, and sang in the manner of Edith Piaf. Good thing I had heard about Edith Piaf so I had some idea of what to expect.

We park on the street and go through an iron gate to enter Villa Pascal. It’s a charming home – the walls are covered with art, the colors warm and inviting. The living room is filled with small tables.

People are already gathered round them with glasses of wine. The lights are low; everyone is leaning forward over their tables, relaxed, laughing. There are tea lights and candles everywhere, casting a shadowy intimacy.

The stage is nothing more than an open area at the back of the room. Spotlights hang from the high wooden beams and heavy drapes covering the windows act as a backdrop. There is an upright piano off to the side.

We’re seated near the stage and we pour ourselves glasses of wine and spread out the snacks from the picnic basket. I hadn’t been to any kind of live performance in years and nothing like this, so I was filled with happy anticipation.

A young man dressed in black sits at the piano and Daniele walks through the living room to the stage. She has short dark hair, heavy lidded eyes and je ne sais quoi – the sensuality of a French woman of a certain age.

Daniele speaks to us as if we’re all old friends and preludes each song with a little story. It is only her voice and the piano.

Most of her songs are in French and just a few in English. I had one semester of French and was once fluent in Spanish. None of this helped me to understand what she was singing about. Which was fine. I let her voice create the mood and my imagination filled in the song.

With only her voice and the piano I saw:

Tangled white sheets…a woman alone, looking out a window over a quiet city street…slender legs in sheer dark stockings, crossing and uncrossing under a table…

With only her voice and the piano I felt:

Longing…lost love…sweet and bittersweet memories…self-deprecation…joy..love found…regret

The intimate setting and the simplicity of the performance were wonderful.
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