I’ve officially entered the crazy world that is Grahamstown and The National Arts Festival for the next 2 weeks.
I studied at UKZN in Pietermaritzburg from ‘98 to ‘00, and walking through these university halls takes me back to those care-free days of missing lectures and all night parties that are now a fond and distant memory. I’ve checked into the Rhodes University Residence and am feeling very much like I’m back at college, about to endure a never-ending year of torturous study (prophetic words, I’m sure). The rooms are clinical and a little bigger than mine was (which I will be sure to take up with the Dean at UKZN should I ever have the chance), the gardens are manicured, the air is cold, and there is an electric excitement floating around the halls that unnerves me slightly in anticipation of what is to come.
My days at Uni are a very distant (and sometimes slightly hazy) memory, one that I cherish, so I’m feeling a little reminiscent. I would love to study again, and there are a few courses on the list that I’ll eventually have time and money to do. I’ll get there…
But for now, this maze of corridors that is my home for the next two weeks will remind me of days gone by… days when the shower temperature taunted me with its inconsistency, the noise in the halls kept me up at all hours, and the warden stared menacing down her nose as we stumbled back to res at 4 in the morning.
I’m 18 again, if only for these 2 weeks.
There is this constant search to find the right venues around the country for what I do, and when I stumble onto one that works just right, everything else falls into place without effort. I’m set up to play two shows at Chandlers Underground in East London this weekend, and it is just that kind of venue. It’s small and intimate and suits me just fine for the nature of my current touring in the smaller centres around South Africa.
These perfect, effortless venues are few and far between, and many tend to close down eventually, so I find myself so often fighting tirelessly for a platform for my music. Over the past year, several of my favourite venues around the country have closed their doors, a curse of this temperamental industry and a hurdle that grows tiresome.
But, when it works, it just works, and what makes it work is a combination of things, not the least of which is that first impression. When I walk into a venue for the first time I know exactly how it will all pan out, from start to finish. The combination of management, hospitality and plain courtesy are forefront in my mind. I pride myself on running my business as efficiently as possible, and on being as professional as I can, so I notice when the courtesy is returned and know that it makes a difference to the experience as a whole.
Having lost at least five class venues over the past year, I’m thrilled to say that, for now at least, East London is sorted.
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Two days ahead of my departure for the National Arts Festival in Grahamstown in the Eastern Cape, and I hear of snow on my horizon! I’ve never actually seen the white stuff up close and real, and won’t deny that the extreme possibility of finally experiencing it is making my heart very happy… but I’m a Durban girl, and I fear that my Durbanness may be in for one serious challenge!
I’ve lived in Durban all my life, in fact, apart from a couple years at ‘varsity, I’ve lived in the same house in Umhlanga all my life, and I love this time of year in Durbs. The humidity subsides and is replaced, for the most part, with perfectly clear, mild winter days and cosy winter nights, with just enough chill factor to make it count. Last year I spent most of South Africa’s winter on tour in Cape Town, following stringent warnings that my Durbanness would be defeated by the cold, wind and rain… but I survived. This winter, I fear I may not be so lucky. I was in Cape Town a month ago and the cold had already set in to challenge my Durbanness, which resulted in my learning to build a rather respectable fire every night (a handy skill I’m most satisfied to finally have mastered), but there is no fireplace waiting for me in the Eastern Cape…
I’d probably say that cold for a Durban girl is about 14°C. My first stop in East London enjoys the mighty temperature of 5°C today, while Durban remains a (just) bearable 16°C. Armed with every layer imaginable and blankets galore, I pack my bags and ready myself for what is sure to be the coldest few weeks of my life thus far, thrilled by the prospect of experiencing my first white winter which, I’m almost certain, would make it all entirely bearable. To be that cold and not be rewarded with snow would be a travesty and a sign of utter disrespect on the part of the weather gods. Bring on the white stuff. My Durbanness can take it.
