Smooth Criminals

So, my iPhone was stolen.

Around here, that's usually the end of the story. 

In this case, though, it's the beginning. Thankfully.

One of the first things one learns about Cape Town, unfortunately, is the outstanding crime rate. You quickly train yourself to be incredibly aware of your surroundings. You avoid carrying your laptop with you unless you absolutely need to. You carry a cross-body purse that fastens, if you have one, because they’re the hardest to take or take from. You learn when it’s okay to have your headphones in (leading directly to a valuable item in your pocket) and when it’s not.

Long Street, almost anyone would tell you, is an area that calls for heightened awareness and vigilance. Even during the day, pick pocketing and mugging happens often. One of my roommates has had one camera and one phone stolen very close to the same area. Other roommates have been mugged in similar situations. When you’re on Long Street at night, and when you know how real the threat is, you multiply that vigilance by at least four.

On this particular night, I hadn’t planned on carrying an apartment-warming get-together into the night, so I wasn’t as prepared as I usually would be. I had everything in my zipped-up pockets of the jacket I was wearing. On this night, I did all I could to be as “smart” as possible: I danced – like a fool – with my hands in my pockets, I avoided pulling my phone out when I was in crowded group of people, and I checked often to make sure I had everything.

When we were leaving for home, we paused on Long Street. We were distracted by a friend, and, therefore, became easy targets. Here’s what I remember about the subsequent events:

“Guys, we need to make a move. You’re attracting attention.”
“Everyone, check your pockets NOW.”

“MY PHONE!”

One of our South African friends, a guy named Wanda, had been scoping out the situation from the start. He knew we’d acquired bulls-eye targets, and it turned out that his signals were warranted. As soon as I said my phone was missing, he was on a mission toward a guy who was walking across the middle of the street. After an inaudible exchange, Wanda returned to our huddle. Wagging my iPhone in his hand, shaking his head with a laugh. In South Africa, there’s an expression for that feeling: “Shame.”

Cape Town criminals are smart. Or, if you will, smooth. Afterward, Wanda told us that the pick pocketer will usually hand off the stolen goods to another person, who will calmly walk away from the scene. That’s how he knew to confront the guy crossing the street.

In other cases, people will approach you by complimenting your shoes. They’ll align your foot with their foot to “see if they’d fit,” all the while sliding their hand into your pocket. Another time, I was walking with my hands in my pockets, when a guy on the street put both hands around my arm and slid them down the length of my arm while I shook him loose. If I’d had anything in my hand, it would have become his.

I’ve been extremely fortunate so far. I’ve hardly ever felt in danger, and I’ve only had a couple of run-ins with crime here. I did surrender a camera to Cape Town, but that was by my own fault. Apparently, if you leave a camera on a bathroom sink in a public place, it disappears quickly. Who would’ve thought? And, oh, how could I forget? There was that time someone was spending my money in another country while I taught refugees how to speak English. 

The city’s reputation for high crime rates and danger are real, but certainly not restrictive of one’s enjoyment of Cape Town. Despite pick-pocketing, clever tricks, and bank account fraud, though, this amazing city’s “smooth criminals” haven’t dulled my brilliant experience here. Especially with the help of good friends who can swiftly retrieve your stolen possessions!

I'll Remember The Way It Smelled

Whew! A busy few weeks it has been. Between the final assignment for another course module (6-8,000 words on Educational Reform in South Africa), starting the second term of English classes at the Scalabrini English School, and a wonderful visit from my family, my days have quickly filled up and extracted every bit of energy from my soul. That being said, a “Five Senses Friday” post is long overdue, and I’m here to deliver. Today, I’m reflecting on the smells of my experience in Cape Town.

When I remember Cape Town, I’ll remember the way it smelled.

I’ll remember the damp smell of rain that crept inside my windows and trapped itself in my bedroom. I’ll remember the cheerful, floral smell of the laundry detergent I used – “summer sensations” it was called. I’ll remember the smell of the shampoo and conditioner that wafted up the staircase when someone was taking a shower downstairs.

I’ll remember the smell of the ocean on the coast. I’ll remember the smell of the winds that gusted away any pollution, restoring the city’s fresh scent. I’ll remember how the after-the-rain smell of a coastal city differed from my landlocked home in Kentucky. And I’ll remember the familiar smells of my visitors upon our first hugs in a different country: the lotion my sister had used for years and the familiar smell of Adam’s house that lingered in his clothing.

"Nothing is more memorable than a smell. One scent can be unexpected, momentary and fleeting, yet conjure up a childhood summer beside a lake in the mountains; another, a moonlit beach; a third, a family dinner of pot roast and sweet potatoes during a myrtle-mad August in a Midwestern town. Smells detonate softly in our memory like poignant land mines hidden under the weedy mass of years. Hit a tripwire of smell and memories explode all at once. A complex vision leaps out of the undergrowth." - Diane Ackerman

The smell of wine will permeate my memories. From early afternoon through the evening, people sip the pride of their wineland-rich area, and the smell swirls around them. The smell of freshly pulled espresso will punctuate my memories. From the start of each day at The Power & The Glory to the end of dinner throughout the city, cafes and restaurants emit the sweet, buttery smell I have fallen in love with throughout the years. All day. Every day. Everywhere. 

I’ll remember the variety of smells I encountered on my walk from the Jammie Shuttle stop to our house after class (at about 7 PM, which is peak dinner time). I'll remember the tangy smell of Thai food as I pass Sawaddee, the rich smell of coffee as I pass Vida e Caffe, the enticing smell of bread as I pass Knead, the enticing smell of burgers on the grill at Hudson’s, and the freshly cooked fish smell of Ocean Basket. I’ll remember the smell of our house and of the gas stove being lit.

When I think about Cape Town, I’ll remember the smell of the cinnamon and cloves in my oats and the swirling smells of the various market vendors at Old Biscuit Mill, Hout Bay, and Hope Street. I’ll remember the warm and earthy smell of rooibos tea steeping in a cup of hot water. I’ll remember the smell of curries and samoosas and savory pies.

I’ll remember the smells of my time in Cape Town. 

Video: http://vimeo.com/34944711#