19th to 21st of July, 2018.
First step is pretty close to Laura’s place: The Constitution Hill. The old prison is now one of the biggest attractions in town, but for me, it is just a huge and chaotic place. Of course there is some beauty about being an old building, but it is just too many places to go, back and forward, and you can buy tickets for here and there (of course I did not), but you are also allowed to walk around without pay, so I felt quite disturbed, not really knowing where can I go, where I cannot.
After that, I walk down the streets, following the directions that Google Maps gave to me. But I guess “security” is not one of the issues that Google considers when it shows you the way. I saw myself going into streets full of people, with their stuff to sell all over the place, cars and minibuses crossing everywhere, homeless people also around, and in the middle of all of that, I was the only white person. For me, being a white person in Johannesburg (and I feel that is quite in whole South Africa) it is much different than being a white person in other African countries. I have always felt welcome in all the other countries, mainly in the countryside, because the locals could see that I was there for them, to visit them, to learn more about them and their life style, their culture. But here, maybe because they cannot know if you are a tourist or a local, I feel that the scars of Apartheid regime still have some influence over the people, like a shadow, always following them, and that make them look at white people with different eyes. I don’t believe that this happen with everybody but with a considerable part of the population.
I try, as much as I could, look confident and not look afraid. I end up in Carlton Centre. A waste of time to say so. The Shopping Centre is just the same as any other, so if you are not going to the top of the building (to have a panoramic view of the town, which will cost you fifteen Rands), it might be worthless. Unless you, like me, like to go around the town just to be able to say that you looked at it as much as you could.
From there, the plan was going to two supposedly “art places”: The Arts on Main and Museum of African Design. On my way, again, I feel quite insecure walking on the streets. The first place it is just two blocks away from a big bridge, where there i a police car and some officers. But once in there you forget for a moment the way you came from it. It is fancy place but those ones which disguise itself in a cool and geek and hipster. I am shocked so I do not feel like going around to check the galleries and just sit down to take a rest for a while. A waiter brings me the menu and I check the prices. It is expensive? I do not know exactly. What is to be expensive? There is a nice vegetarian dish. The second place is in there but there is nothing inside. They are rebuilding or something. No warns at all. You just walk in and realize there is nothing. On the same corner, crossing the streets, an old hotel, Cosmopolitan, which just the beauty of the years remain.
Coming back, very disappointed, I have still a last place to visit: Johannesburg Art Gallery. The streets are so full of rubbish, people and rustlers that no one could say it would lead to such important building. I believe it is because is a bridge which passes under the railway. The park which surrounds the Gallery it is even worse: there is rubbish everywhere, and homeless people living around, so the whole place looks like Brazilian favela. It is totally abandoned by the government. I almost did not pass through to get in the Gallery but I decide I have to. Once in there everything changes. Not that it is the top of the art galleries but there is such a nice and interest archive. And the building is also quite nice inside. The best part is you do not have to pay, that already makes the visit worth it.
Going back, again I find myself in a security issue. In the side of the street where I am, there is no one walking in the sidewalk. Everybody is in the other side of the street. People who are on my side, are walking on the street, sharing the space with the cars. Or crossing to the right side. What I did? In my five seconds to make a decision I keep in the left side but by the street as well. Why is that? I do not know. But when you are in a new town for you, go by me, you follow the silent tips of the locals.
Back at home I finally could meet Laura. Her roommates are just leaving, going back to Germany. We get along very well. A lot in common, free life style, free minds. We tal a lot and since she has so many cleanness to do that I offer to cook dinner. Rice with vegetables. Classic. I even asked her about the prices of wine and pizza but if I want to be in a cage with my beloved white sharks I have to struggle my money as much as I can.
Next morning time to go around again. After making a research and figure out that would cost me ninety five Rands to go to Apartheid Museum, I change the plans and just decide to go around again. This time I walk to the 44 Stanley Avenue without even know what is exactly. Once in there I figure that is basic the same thing that Art on Main, with the difference that this one is a little better: The buildings are old ones, restored so they look very nice; there is a beautiful small and cute library, where I spend sometime; there are a few different restaurants which give people more options; the shops in general are nice, like a Vinyl one and crafts stuff. The only problem for me it is how everything, again, it looks fake. Everything over there looks old, nice and cool but or it was made to look like that or it was pretty expensive or both. And the people, the whole atmosphere of the place, again, makes me feel so bad, as I am in a play and everybody is playing their character. Everyone that I look at has a style and all of them are moving in the same direction: the fancy and expensive cool.
Outside, taking a long rest in the sun (just for you to know how could it is) I get myself thinking if I had money, would I dress like that? Would I go to those shops and by my clothes and decoration stuff over there or I would keep doing by myself as I do now? Would I go to those restaurants, one by one, until I had tried all of them? How those people feel? Are they happy? Truly happy? Too many questions, no answers. I leave.
Crossing the nice Mandela Bridge, taking a look in the nice colorful trains down there and in the town in front of me, I realize how sad it is not be able to be in a place like these without fearing anything, having to be alert all the time, checking your back and all your sides all the time. It is so unfair. Mainly to poor people like me who cannot afford taking buses or Ubers or Taxi and have to walk all the way around.
Next destination is African Museum and again I feel unsafe on the streets. I sit in front of the Museum, a beautiful old market, but from outside it looks like just as an old train station. I eat my orange and after giving a “what a fuck are you looking at?” to the guy sitting beside me, I get inside. Again, apart of the completely chaotic directions to visit the place, the archive itself is huge and takes you at least one hour to go around. A lot of items, most of it with no order or reason of why are there. Unfortunately, a lot of empty spaces and since there are no camera, the security guys are walking around you time to time, what is quite shit, lets be honest. Talking about that, I just remembered now that before hit the African Museum, I went to the Wits Art Museum, also free, but which I do not recommend. If you are a fan of Contemporary Art you might like, but I hated. Plus, the security literally follows you all over the place. Pissed me off. Anyway, go for it the African Museum.
Going back home, I just buy some stuff to cook pasta for me and Laura, some eggs for breakfast, and my lunch: a cheese bagel.
She is already at home and cleaning again! I offer to help and we agree that the best would be if I did the dishes.
The pasta is not that good but we add some cheese and everything is fine. Just missing the wine. Nice talk again.
Next day I go for another walk, just to see some old buildings and kill my curiosity about others. I am very lazy to leave the house and I could not know if it is pure cold laziness or a instinct warning me that I should stay at home.
I pass by the Sci-Bono: have to pay (R48); the SAB Word of Beer: have to pay for the tour (R127); and the lovely buildings all over the Albertina Sisulu Road. For me, it is totally worth it, is just quite sad that you do not feel very comfortable to stop and have a nice look at them.
I do not believe I am going somewhere tomorrow. I mean, I thought going to the Apartheid Museum and explain to them my travel plans and everything and ask to visit for free. But it worth it? All those museums about genocides and bad things that happened in the past just make me feel more sad about the world. I do not need to go there to learn about them. I just feel sorry for missing the Soweto neighborhood. Looks like there is a lot of history going on over there. But is almost half an hour driving to there so no chances for me
After everything you read until now about my opinions on Joburg it should be quite clear my feelings about it. I just wish every town and city in the planet could be visited without any concern apart of where do we go now.
