Not Quite This Wednesday Walk

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    nickydee

    Published on Dec 21, 2022
    About :

    I'm kinda using the Wednesday Walk initiative, by @tattoodjay, to track our travels around the Western Cape in search of a forever-home-for-the-next-while.

    So, this Wednesday Walk, the journey takes us from a No Longer a Wednesday Walk in Noordhoek, Cape Town...

    to the first place we land in after we leave Cape Town...

    Somerset West.

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    It's only just over thirty minutes from Cape Town, but the ride seems to take longer as the driver, Fahida, and I manage to share our almost entire histories with each other on the way.

    We pull into Somerset West after what feels like a lifetime of sharing and she waits while I quickly unpack my few remaining belongings that are still far more than the guest house owners were expecting for a long term stay.

    I see one of the owner's eyes widen in alarm as I cheerfully explain that I'm sticking stuff into storage the following week. It does kinda look like I'm moving in for good and he's clearly a bit rattled with the unusual situation, but kindly offers to let me leave it in the garage so we don't have to lug it upstairs.

    He's spritely and fit for his age. He's also a little bit flirty. He enthusiastically grabs a few things and begins to help me carry them up to the flatlet, despite my insistence that I've got it and my outspoken concern for his back.

    He's sweating and panting a bit by the time we're done.

    But so am I, to be fair.

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    Nathan has yet to arrive and I unpack for him as well. I stick the Woo-man out, adding something familiar to the place, to make it feel a bit more like home for him.

    I want Nathan to enjoy this experience as much as I already am.

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    The Woo-man. A gift when my son was born, from two creative friends who designed a range of original, handmade toys called "Woo-men".
    I forget this one's name but he's along for the travels.
    It's interesting what you choose to keep, when you can only take so much with you, huh?

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    The flatlet has a decent oven and I've already promised the owners some home baked cookies after seeing it.

    I'm on a mission.

    I can cook pretty well and love to do it, but I know little about baking.

    I'm determined to learn it. And by learn it, I mean being able to whip up a kick-ass best you've ever tasted batch of cookies from memory. And a decent Baguette and Ciabatta as well.

    For starters...

    The opportunity to practice has presented itself at last!

    We will stay with this lovely elderly couple for two weeks and one batch of pretty decent, but nowhere near spot on, chocolate chip cookies will be distributed between the four of us.

    Unequally, because of a minor misunderstanding.

    Nathan will remove four cookies from the container I set aside, to let them cool a bit, and I will eat more than half of them accidentally.

    Even though Master Oogway would say "There are no accidents." *burp

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    Strangely enough...

    I'll only take two photographs from the two weeks spent at that long term air BnB, even though we had the most beautiful stay there.

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    Here's one of them.

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    And, interestingly enough, it's at that table there, that I find my real writing voice again.

    Because away from Cape Town, I begin to remember more of who I was before all of this crazy sh!t happened.

    And it becomes quickly apparent that moving to a totally unfamiliar environment, with no reminders of my recent history or threat of bumping into them, is the best thing I could have done to help me let go of the past.

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    Nathan and I walk around the neighborhood plenty.

    Mostly to the local garage shop because I'm enamoured at how quick and easy it is to get to it, after having to walk miles for anything in Noordhoek and always having to plan ahead.

    This is so simple!

    Heck. We walk there just to buy one small thing some days.

    It also feels safe.

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    I can't quite explain how it feels to not feel safe in your own home.

    A home is supposed to be a sanctuary but in Cape Town, after the chaotic few years, I began to jump every time the doorbell rang.

    Even three years on, back in Noordhoek at the new place I found, which was almost thirty odd minutes away from my little cottage where the trouble began, I'd still get uneasy if I heard a car pull up outside.

    Or saw a police car drive by the house.

    Four years of this.

    Four years of never feeling safe.

    But as soon as I arrive in Somerset West...

    I begin to relax a bit more again.

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    It is a safe neighbourhood though and we take the time to walk to the local common as well.

    I sit with my feet in the running stream. We pet random dogs being walked by their owners. And we have our Harry Potter duels with wands. Yes. More than one.

    Nathan always wins.

    It's not because I let him win. It's because he knows more spells than I do. I've been remiss in my studies while he has been learning enthusiastically but sneakily.

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    Just opposite the garage shop is a skateboard park.

    And just down the road between the skateboard park and the flatlet, is a Scouts' Hall. I stop to find out days and times and actually consider staying in the area because it's family orientated and peaceful.

    But I no longer have much of a family.

    On the corner just after the Scouts' premises is a dance hall with a big sign outside stating it's for hire. This would be perfect for... well... "Perfect". The donation based support groups and dance classes I wanted to set up, to teach teenagers how to regulate emotionally on their own.

    To skill them up in a now too stressful world. To take what I've learned and use it for what it was intended for, when I began this journey so many years ago.

    I never do find out the costs per hour though, even though I walk past it when the doors are open and someone is obviously there.

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    Apparently I'm either still not ready to commit; still not healed enough to take on such responsibility for others again; or Somerset West is not my true heart's calling.

    Regardless, it's a fun and easy two weeks in the suburb and it shows in my writing.

    Perhaps when we feel safe, and aren't treading water to survive so much, the mind has more space and focus to be creative.

    I've read somewhere that it's good to allow children to become bored. It's been scientifically proven, apparently, that when this happens... the mind kicks into creative gear and the magic begins to happen.

    I feel as though this is what happened for me during my stay in this benign and slow suburb. I wonder to myself, more than once, if this is worth staying for as well. Would it make this creating thing easier possibly?

    But I also know that this is the exact life I was desperately trying to change in the first place. I still can't see the horizon and I feel as though I'm in limbo here. Cocooned and waiting...

    Yes it is quieter, safer and more peaceful than Cape Town. But I've been down this road before...

    and I know where it ends.

    I stay with a friend in the suburb, for two more weeks, after Nathan leaves to spend time at his other home...

    and then pack once again for the next part of the journey.

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    Eternal Seeker
    Hardened Dreamer
    Mother
    Warrior
    Determined Dancer
    and Stargazer

    still...

    Beyond fear is freedom

    And there is nothing to be afraid of.

    To Life, with Love... and always for Truth!
    Nicky Dee

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    Featured image / video thumbnail created with Arty Bot, generously made available by @ausbitbank.
    Edited using GIMP. Oogway gif available on Tenor and the Oogway image in the video available on wallpaperaccess.com. All other images and footage my own.

    Tags :

    wednesdaywalk travel parenting personal-growth pimp recovery pob proofofbrain

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