So, Plett.
Um, well. In season I hear that Millionaires road is a bustle; and the coffers of Midas himself overflow. It's clear to see in the opulence that seems to seep from the architecture. I decided to stay at Plett Backpackers. It was close enough to the center of town to allow me to wonder around at night and get a bit of a feel for the pace. It also sported an amazing panoramic view of Plett. Even though it was off-season; which meant a bed in the dorm only cost me R100, there was only one bed left. Lucky me. Oh there are a lot different tours to go on, exalting the natural beauty of our fine country. As one can guess, the prettier the place, the more costly the entrance. Though, if you are a tourist backpacking from town to town, you can't walk down a road before you find a place with enough brochures to make a small mattress out of.
That night I went wandering down the main road. I came across a restaurant called "The Table". Now, I pride myself on knowing a thing or too about pizza. Had I the means to indulge my "journalistic integrity", then I would have left gorged on pizza. Sadly I did not. Based on a quick gander at the menu, the selection was very exiting, and the prices were most agreeable. No pizza was over R75. The atmosphere was inviting, and the decor tasteful. If you like a nice slice, then make turn.
Then the nagging desire for social interaction started to flare up, so off to a bar I went. The one that seemed to have the most ... atmosphere, was Flashbacks. The signage is unmissable from the main road. Its name bears an ominous prediction; but it could have been worse -- it could have been called Black-Outs. It's the type of bar that curb-stomps cocktails; the type of bar that around 12am releases the strange type of magnetism that convinces people not to go home yet even thought they have to be up bright and early the next morning, and have those three more shots and a draught or two. Smells like home. Though a bar lives and dies by the people that frequent it, and aside from a lesbian couple, I was the only one there. While I was sitting in the smoking section, watching an old Leon Schuster movie with more than subtle racism gilded by the luster of overt liberalism, people started to arrive, mostly... girls. After a bit of friendly chin-wagging (talking, you Cretans) I found out that these girls were students in the only University/College that specialises in animal anatomy in the world, or at least that lest you do a degree in it without having to wast time on boring old human anatomy. Who cares about people right? But seriously, the girls sounded very passionate about what they did, and they were nice enough to not spray me with mace multiple times.....
All in all it was a good night, but I still couldn't find any great love for Plett. I mean, yes it is pretty, but nothing to warrant the mega wealthy losing voluntary control of their check books and building an airport. But then again I am not mega wealthy, so I am certain there are a lot of "special" things about Plett to which I don't know the secret handshake for.
If you do know the handshake, please tell me.
Um, well. In season I hear that Millionaires road is a bustle; and the coffers of Midas himself overflow. It's clear to see in the opulence that seems to seep from the architecture. I decided to stay at Plett Backpackers. It was close enough to the center of town to allow me to wonder around at night and get a bit of a feel for the pace. It also sported an amazing panoramic view of Plett. Even though it was off-season; which meant a bed in the dorm only cost me R100, there was only one bed left. Lucky me. Oh there are a lot different tours to go on, exalting the natural beauty of our fine country. As one can guess, the prettier the place, the more costly the entrance. Though, if you are a tourist backpacking from town to town, you can't walk down a road before you find a place with enough brochures to make a small mattress out of.
That night I went wandering down the main road. I came across a restaurant called "The Table". Now, I pride myself on knowing a thing or too about pizza. Had I the means to indulge my "journalistic integrity", then I would have left gorged on pizza. Sadly I did not. Based on a quick gander at the menu, the selection was very exiting, and the prices were most agreeable. No pizza was over R75. The atmosphere was inviting, and the decor tasteful. If you like a nice slice, then make turn.
Then the nagging desire for social interaction started to flare up, so off to a bar I went. The one that seemed to have the most ... atmosphere, was Flashbacks. The signage is unmissable from the main road. Its name bears an ominous prediction; but it could have been worse -- it could have been called Black-Outs. It's the type of bar that curb-stomps cocktails; the type of bar that around 12am releases the strange type of magnetism that convinces people not to go home yet even thought they have to be up bright and early the next morning, and have those three more shots and a draught or two. Smells like home. Though a bar lives and dies by the people that frequent it, and aside from a lesbian couple, I was the only one there. While I was sitting in the smoking section, watching an old Leon Schuster movie with more than subtle racism gilded by the luster of overt liberalism, people started to arrive, mostly... girls. After a bit of friendly chin-wagging (talking, you Cretans) I found out that these girls were students in the only University/College that specialises in animal anatomy in the world, or at least that lest you do a degree in it without having to wast time on boring old human anatomy. Who cares about people right? But seriously, the girls sounded very passionate about what they did, and they were nice enough to not spray me with mace multiple times.....
All in all it was a good night, but I still couldn't find any great love for Plett. I mean, yes it is pretty, but nothing to warrant the mega wealthy losing voluntary control of their check books and building an airport. But then again I am not mega wealthy, so I am certain there are a lot of "special" things about Plett to which I don't know the secret handshake for.
If you do know the handshake, please tell me.
No comments:
Post a Comment