The Soapbox | Where South Africans Speak Out

BY GREEN EYES

There’s something about someone spitting in your shoe. It either evokes images of a cheated on or cheated by angry person who’s out to teach you a lesson.

Or the fragments of a night on the town.

A night spent in Long Street, Cape Town, where anything and everything can happen.

To the person who’s never been to Long Street — please do not be turned away by this story. You should be impressed. Not only did this person not hate the recipient, me, but actually found a uniquely way of getting rid of their bodily fluid. He managed to discharge in my shoe without either of us skipping a beat. He didn’t know where it was going, I wasn’t aware until my heel touched the pavement. And so begins another fabulous night out on Long Street.

To many Capetonians, Long Street has become the hub of any night out. There’s always a bar to start your night out; a restaurant to have gourmet and ingenious burger creations and enough clubs to nod along to You spin me right round baby right round.

But all these things come with some reservation. Firstly, if you love Long Street, you love it with all the bad. Think of it as Amy Whinehouse, a talented singer who also happens to be a crack addict. Then imagine yourself as Amy’s dad. While she’s your daughter and you love her, she’s still a crack addict.

If you’re able to look past the bad bit, you’d see the potential. This is a street where bars have become institutions. Everyone remembers when the cigar bar became an Irish pub. Where restaurants and clubs become hip by adding their street number to “…on Long”. And let’s not forget the people. Cape Town is home to many groups and cliques of people. If you’re not part of one, you’re just not cool enough for us. At any given night, the street is buzzing. And you’re guaranteed to meet the following people:

The student backpackers; with backpacks optional. They love the Victorian buildings but seem more amazed at the queues of patrons to food carts all professing different flags of nationality at 3am.

The hipsters in skinny jeans and wayfarers heading to the new, underground bar that no one else knows about. This bar will remain cool until the Southern Suburbs crowds descend.

The trust fund babies in flip-flops, wife-beaters and scarves. A Cape Town tradition. No matter how warm it is, a tank top is not complete without a keffiyeh. This applies to both sexes.

In the daytime, there are street markets and antique stores. A stroll in a vintage store is not complete without some vagrant shouting expletives. Most of the time it’s not directed at you. In the evening there are karaoke bars, Eighties parties and hotel openings.

If you can handle the spit, the pretentious cliques and drunken ramblings, you’ll be the proudest dad.

And, as Amy says, “If my daddy thinks I’m fine…”

The incognito Green Eyes blogs about life, love and fabulous fashion at her must-read blog: Skinny Bitches – In The Making.