Reflections on the Square

Nelson Mandela Square in Sandton City, Johannesburg.

Sitting at a cafe drinking lime & lemonade while children squeal and splash in the fountains...
Eating Greek meze on the terrace with Carien, chatting philosophically about the challenges of life...
Rendezvous at Exclusive Books, wandering around fantasizing about owning half the bookstore...
Sushi at the Cape Town Fish Market with the pharmacists, followed by a movie (quarreling over a chick flick or a skop,skiet & donder action movie for the guys, and somehow the guys always winning). Afterwards, coffee and ridiculously large slices of cake at Mugg & Bean...
Sitting at an outside cafe with Kerry in the middle of winter because she wanted to smoke - me shivering and sipping hot chocolate like a child, she quaffing wine and waving a cigarette around like a woman of the world...
Taking a break from a Saturday of studying with Anni and Senton, to get a lunch of Woolies pasta salad and chocolate soy milk...
Dinner at The Butcher Shop on Kim's birthday, lots of meat and red wine, lots of laughing...
And always, always, forgetting to use the restroom until we got to the car park, and having to use the creepy, isolated restroom at the exit while Brad waited outside...
Then sinking into my cushy European company car while Brad drove us home...

It turns out that what I miss most are little moments spent laughing with great people.
I miss "posh" places like Sandton City and Monte Casino, places where you had to get all dressed up to go eat at a restaurant with white linen tablecloths and wine glasses the size of grapefruit. Of course there are such places here, they're just very far away, and they haven't been a part of our experience here as yet - just like apple sauce and disinfectant wipes exist in South Africa, but they hadn't formed a part of my experience there. (Boy, did that cause an indignant uproar, when I said I loved Lysol wipes and apple sauce in America!)

I really do miss Exclusive Books, that vast bookstore that made you feel like the world was right there waiting for you to experience it between the pages of a crisp new book. Our bookstore, Borders, is undergoing a liquidation - now our nearest bookstore is nearly an hour's drive away.

I miss public restrooms with fancy granite surfaces, cleaned to a high shine by invisible elves, to make you feel like you had just been in an upmarket hotel. (How strange, to be missing toilets!).

But then I look around me at these picturesque tree-lined suburban streets, and I'm grateful for my wide running paths, so grateful that I can go out every morning and feel perfectly safe to run by myself, even get lost in a daydream, without fear of being attacked. I'm so grateful that Brad can hop on his bike and ride around whenever he wants, without having to drive to a safe place first, because cyclists kept getting attacked near the squatter camp by our house.

I'm so grateful that when I drive with my kids, (in my self-funded Japanese car), I can sing to them and chat to them, instead of having to formulate an action plan in case of hijackers (if that sounds excessive to you, you haven't had it happen to people you know.)

I'm grateful for safe, clean, well-maintained parks that my children can play in. I'm grateful that they can wander into the next aisle in a store without me panicking that they've been kidnapped.

And so it seems it matters less where you are than how grateful you are - if you appreciate what you have, any place can be home. I am so grateful for the friends and family I have in South Africa and the unforgettable memories we made. What makes their absence bearable, is knowing that this is now my home, my safe haven, my place. And of course, knowing that they are just a click away...