{City Diaries} Let’s Take It Back to The Beach

The coast enveloped the city, like the mountains which loomed over it. The foreshore began where the sea once was, and hotels were erected to neighbour it. I associated the beach with hawkers selling Surfjoy and Chocolina. Sukkas which I was socialised to call ‘ice scream’. And yet, myself, and many others, probably only visited … Continue reading {City Diaries} Let’s Take It Back to The Beach

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Imposter Syndrome and Other Realities of Student Life

A friend of mine posted a meme (isn't that where all great writing ideas stem from?) about imposter syndrome. I was intrigued. Could it be that there was a word that contained all my self-doubt and insecurity related to being a student of this vast academic institution? But what is imposter syndrome? Wikipedia defines it … Continue reading Imposter Syndrome and Other Realities of Student Life

{City Diaries} Getting Lost in Cape Town

You Can’t Get Lost in Cape Town. The title of Zoe Wicomb’s novel confused me in my first year of studying in Cape Town. How could one not get lost in the Mother City where highways fly over more highways, cul de sacs lurk around so many neighbourhoods and the roads are so steep you feel like you’re always hiking up the mountain, furthering yourself from civilisation?

I don’t want to pay an arm and a leg to cover my arm and leg

Disclaimer: I pray that this blog post is not misconstrued as me 'throwing shade at anyone'. It is merely based on an observation I had whilst scrolling through numerous modest dressing stores/designers on Instagram and the Internet as well as a conversation I had with some friends. I recently partook in a conversation regarding the … Continue reading I don’t want to pay an arm and a leg to cover my arm and leg

City Diaries: The Man with the Red Backpack

There is a hospital in Longmarket Street. It was renamed after Christiaan Barnard – the man who performed the world’s first heart transplant. Of course names can be deceiving. He had performed the transplant at a hospital kilometres away, named Groote Schuur. When I was born there (at Christiaan Barnaard, not Groote Schuur), it had … Continue reading City Diaries: The Man with the Red Backpack