It's the World Cup and I am getting adventurous....

Yes, the World Cup spirit has taken a firm hold on me and when Mark Morrison suggests that we go and have lunch in Newtown near the fan park I do not hesitate ... I'm in... but disappointment awaits...

Mark wants to take photographs for the Newtown project and I just want to soak in the 'gees' in a different area from Melville. But we are clearly too early. There's no game on ... no fans to photograph and no gees. So we sit down for lunch at a deserted Nikki's Oasis. I have a splendid burger and a beer.

We have a very able and friendly waitress whose name eludes me now, but I'm surprised that she does not know the darkie word for the Black Label beer brand namely 'zamalek'. Apparently this means 'something that does not give you a babelas' but I beg to differ.

I scold the waitress gently about her youthful ignorance and we stop about five passing darkies to do a survey in order for me to convince her of the veracity of my information and I am not disappointed ... they all agree that a Black Label is indeed a zamalek.

Mark is there on business and proves this by sending numerous SMSes while I enjoy Joburg's fantastic winter sunshine. But I do get bored and take a stroll through where people are setting up their fleamarket stalls where I buy myself ... a VUVUZELA in the colours of the South African flag of course ... but just think of it ... I buy myself a DAMN VUVUZELA. Good grief! What is happening to my mind ... I'm thinking.

So having done the deed I now have to blow on the damn thing. Not as easy as you may think ... I blow and I blow with getting a squeak out of the thing. I then take to just staring forlornly at it, wondering why I just spent R70 on something so utterly useless ... Mark mocks my inability ... and I am about to admit defeat when I notice the damn has got a small hole in it!

I go and exchange it and after a couple more tries I realise that one just has to relax the stomach muscles and VOILA! You too can produce the sound of a frustrated elephant bull with a priapism and an infection in his trunk.

I blew it so well that two different darkie photographers wanted to take photos of me and I let them. Then I got Mark to take a photo of us and then they wanted a photo of themselves with me on their own cameras and race relations in South Africa once again flourished. The revamped area around the world famous Market Theatre is really wort a visit.

Have the bacon end egg burger at Nikki's I can really recommend it at just R30. There is also Museum Africa to be investigated ... by you.

So that was my adventurous foray into Newtown and I regretted having to leave just as the first people began arriving. I had my French class to attend to. Okay it was not much of an adventure but I did leave Melville again for some other destination than Randburg and Jan's house in Parkwood.

The Boerewors Curtain lifts... and i could not do a spellcheck

So there they were ... in Soweto ... thousands of them ... all dressed in blue ... all slightly drunk and all Blue Bulls supporters ...

But they were in great spirits (no pun intended) for this historic occassion and in no small measure, I guess, excited as I was about the 'meaning' of the event.

Something to tell your grandchildren about: "I was there when the Bulls first played in Soweto..."

So there they were ... in Soweto ... all with dark skins ... all slightly drunk ... millions of them ... lining the roads ... shouting encouragement to the invading army ... some to sell 'safe' parking ... others to sell whatever and most just there for the 'gees' (see my blog about language).

All in great spirits...

So there I was ... on the back of a motorcycle ... ably driven by my boss Charles Moore ... slightly drunk ... in Soweto ... dressed impeccably in three pairs of longjohns, three thermal vests and my outer clothing ... light blue shirt by Gant ... fauve chinos from Woolworths ... black leather jacket from Markhams for Men ... pointy black shoes from a cheap shoeshop ... in fact they were not cheap ... R800 ... and an Iverness Cape.

All in good spirits ...

When Charles tells me that we will go to Soweto on the bike my stomach tightens. Those of you who read my blog regularly would know I'm not the adventurous type. Bikes give me the jitters ...

To deal with that problem I invite my sister Emily to lunch and she tells me she is also going but by public transport ... Rea Vaya (seSotho for: "We're going/moving"). The 'rapid bus transport' system between Soweto and the Joburg CBD. It is supposed to link up many parts of the metropole ... and should have been done by now ... but ain't ... this is Africa.

There was a joke about SA politicians saying: "Everything would be ready by 2010 ... Oh fuck this is 2010!!!!"

I phone Charles to tell him the good news but he points out to me that it's fine to go on the Rea Vaya ... but to come back would probably entail a long wait... and he wants to be back in time to catch the next semifinal game ... the Stormers from Cape Town against the Waratahs from New-South Wales in Australia ... So it's going to be the bike...

I'm not the type of person to shirk a personal phobia so after lunch with Emily I head to the nearest bar ... where fortunately I see Scot ... He hears my pain and buys me a tequila ... I respond in kind and then Inge arrives ... also on her way to the game ... and she responds by buying a round of tequila ... and I respond in kind ... then Charles arrives and we decide it's probably a good idea to have a tequila ... I wash all the tequila down with a cleansing beer ...

Then we set out for Soweto. I try to count flags as we go ... and get to 135 at Soccer City, the new World Cup stadium outside Soweto where some big soccer match is going down. Too many flags ... In fact the final between Wits University and Mamelodi Sundowns in the Nedbank Cup.

My previous boss ... yes the one who fired me ... once remarked: "What will they have next ... a Paper Cup?"

Once at Orlando Stadium we drive straight to the bottom of the steps ... with a ticket checker running after us ... I swear I did not hear him trying to call us back ... and apologises profusely to him when he catches up with us ... He accepts the apology and all is well.

We head for the beer garden surrounded by thousands of Blue Bulls ... with blue faces and
hard-hats with bull horns sticking from them... I sigh ... these are my people ...

I check for people ... darkies I mean ... not many in attendance ... I would say a 1000 or 2000 out of the 45000 spectators.

Three of them are sitting just behind me and I ask them why they are there ... They're not Bulls supporters ... The response is good ... They are there for the country ... as am I.

Meanwhile my sister Emily reports that outside the stadium the Bulls and the darkies were bonding big time ... She did not have a ticket and was just there to report on the 'gees' or vibe. When she went into shebeen (bar, tavern) for a beer it was packed with Bulls ... and there was not a drop left to drink ... she was referred to the funeral parlour next door ... which was packed by Bulls and there was still a beer on sale ... you got to love this country!

Well done Soweto ... and well done Pretoria. The Boerewors Curtain lifted and it was a magnificent thing ... and it was good to be there.

I can tell you much more ... but I'm tired now ... there were so many things worth writing about.