Winter in Cape Town, South Africa

That time flying by thing,
you know,
the reality
where
time,
it just moves,
moves way too quickly.
It did that yet again.
And just like that.

I had sat impatiently on a plane for two days,
took photos of the rising sun shining ever so brightly into my airplane window
and just moments later,
my gaze,
heavily fixated on the landscape below.

Mountains,
oceans,
city,
more mountains,
and even more expansive ocean
and a closer glimpse at the downtown.

This,
this moment,
was when,
my plane was flying over Cape Town.
I was back.
Back to my new home.
This very place where my heart was shared just six months prior.

I was back.
Sooner than originally planned,
but not soon enough in accordance to the beat of my heart.

My boots were on.
My long-sleeved blue dress just above that.
And over it all,
was a big coat,
a very big coat.
I had arrived.
But this time,
my arrival was met a bit differently.
You see,
something I learned,
learned so quickly,
was,
South African winters,
they are cold,  
very cold.
Not like Southern California winters.
Not like that.

Although it may had been cold,
the warmth was felt immediately,
as I was greeted and wrapped in Dan’s arms.  
This wrap,
this warmth
stayed with me for the winter months that followed.  

My winter in Cape Town.
The beautiful,
love filled,
adventurous bound,
finding enjoyment in anything and everything,
what made up this reality?

Honestly,
as I type,
the moments making up winter in Cape Town,
are months past,
almost six months to be exact.
But,
the moments,
the moments,
are woven heavily within the imprints of my existence.  

The first week,
Dan took off work.
I had no work.
We took that time,
indulging in the simple sweetness of one another’s presence,
finally being back together,
in one country.
What we did exactly,
um, well, I really don’t know.
Something along the lines of
cooking lots and lots of food
with new recipes,
drinking various South African wines, 
taking never enough motorcycle rides,
and of course,
one of my all time favorites,
drinking coffee in local coffee shops.

Dan went back to work
and I soon began searching for a new job in this beautiful city.  

The first week, for me,
was spent,
drinking coffee in coffee shops
and searching on the internet.
English schools.
English schools.
English schools.
Photography connections.
Turning my resume into a C.V.
Printing this newly enhanced C.V.
Giving this newly enhanced reflection of my life’s experiences out to a dozen places.

I was more curious than ever to work at a coffee shop,
But I think this was because it was so damn cold.
After a few interviews,
the universe supported me beyond imaginary belief.
I had a meeting at an International English School
and then two days later,
I was shadowing one of the veteran teachers.  

That following Monday,
I had my own classes.
And for weeks
and almost three months there after,  
I spent my mornings first with a two-hour grammar class,
then a two-hour skills class,
and sometimes followed by a conversation class.
Once a week,
a few of my English students would join me in an hour yoga session on the promenade.

It was delightfully simple.
Dan dropped me off at work each morning on his way to work,  
then,
depending on that of my schedule,
I skated
or walked,
sometimes skipped home
to our apartment
just at the top of town.

Looking back,
at those moments.
I really couldn’t have asked for anything much more than the present.
My days were simple
and
absolutely satisfying.
I taught in the morning.
Did or taught yoga in the afternoon.
Went for an early evening run.
Then spent the sunset in Dan’s arms,
either nestled on the couch
or on cushions overlooking the ocean or city
with some sort of drink in hand.

Two weeks after my return to Cape Town,
Dan’s mom and sister presented us with a stunningly romantic surprise,
a weekend getaway in a quaint little town
two hours outside the city,  
known as Hermanus.
In,
the, 
romantic suite.
This,
this suite,
I opened the door
and
my mouth literally dropped,
I think I jumped in the air,
and gasped for an extra breath.   

The floors were heated,
the bathtub was big enough for us to lay side by side,
the white robs,
oh the white robs,
they were like pillows nestled around our bodies.
The roses on the counter brought tears to my eyes
and the Rose Champaign glided down so smoothly.
As we sat,
with our white robs on,
feet up on the balcony,
looking at the ocean
the whales popping in and out of the chilled winter waters
I couldn’t help but smile,
but be consumed with gratitude
be consumed by the reality of the moments
of the special weekend we were able to share.

This weekend,
that weekend,
it really was spent
eating sandwiches on the beach,
drinking bottles of wine during the day while watching the activity below,  
venturing to a restaurant for dinner
and being,  
simply being,
in the presence
in the angelic company
of one another
after being separated yet again,
in what felt like longer than six months.

It was beautiful,
blissful,
truly a treat.
Ah, that weekend.
My heart sinks just thinking back
to the laughs
and giggles
and discoveries of that weekend. 

The rest of our days,
our time,
was spent
just living,
simply living.
working,
preparing for Mafia Island,
cooking dinners,
eating out,
expanding my teaching abilities
both in English and yoga.

The time,
that thing mentioned at the beginning
went by
and before we knew it,
our bags were packed
and passports were ready
to board the plane for Mafia Island, Tanzania.

This experience,
that of Mafia Island,
it comes,
at another time.

Below are a few of my favorite images from my winter,
my newly known
cold winter in Cape Town, South Africa..