Bojangles

Above Zebra Crossing, in the centre of Hermanus, one will find the club Bojangles. This venue has passed through many owners and just as many names. I am not certain as how to even classify its current incarnation: I am not sure it strictly falls into the Meat Market category; though it does play the regular meat market music with a touch of trance every now and then. Its is reminiscent of Mordor; or Rome, in that most roads seem to lead to it. This may be because it stays open until 4am, so when all else has closed and you don't want to go to bed just quite yet, then that is where you go.

The clientèle is diverse. I wish that was was a subtle way of saying something else; it would have made the statement a lot funnier. As a result I struggle to pinpoint the exact reason why the various people have come this particular bar to engage in inebriated revelry. The again, I am not to sure why I tend to walk up the stairs instead of past the doorway. According to Bar Theory there are many reasons why people come to bars. They include, but are not limited to: booze, sex, drugs, entertainment, sports events, familiarity, social interactions, escapism, love, loneliness or even boredom. Hell, any of the aforementioned could explain why people come here. I think reason falls under the umbrella of curiosity. 

I do have mixed feelings about the place. It is not my usual haunt, nor does it resemble it. But the staff are friendly and after two visits they make you feel like a regular; which is always good. Nor is it a bad place to come and have fun. You are bound to meet some interesting people -- that is if you are brave enough to strike up a conversation with people you don't know from soap-on-a-rope.

The owner of Bojangles also owns Jax, which I have mentioned before -- a place I keep finding myself drawn to, possibly out of nostalgia. Bonjangles, from what I gather from the locals, has done well in integrating itself into the Hermanus culture (or sub-cultures, I am not to sure). It also allows for rather random encounters. I will admit, due to Hermanus; like most costal towns, being a rather cliquey place, it can be hard to break into a social group if you are on your own. Despite this people can be rather overwhelmingly friendly. A well-meaning gesture of greeting left me with a cracked rib. I wish that was a joke.

Jax

In the last few weeks I have visited many bars in different towns. I have started to notice a pattern, a relationship between the places I visit and the bars those places create. Hence I am constructing "Bar Theory." It is a complex science involving the the evolution of bars in relation to the size and population of a town or city. The theory is still in its infancy; but let me share with you some my my thoughts, as well as its relation to a specific bar here in Hermanus.

A town's first bar either caters to the locals or to tourists; although almost all of the time, it is the former. This is because a bar's life-blood is its regulars, hence it makes sense to create a venue that caters to the more stable clientèle. The nature of the local bar will be an interesting insight into the ethos of the town. Then, as the town gets bigger and starts to have a large enough youth population, a meat-market is erected. This will provide the youth with a dance floor for the act of gyrating courtship; and often stays open longer than most other places. Essentially it's a place you go to dance, or to try and find a warm body to occupy the night with. That type of venue will eventually be insufficient for the more alternative youth who want a place where they can relax, feel at home, and enjoy the music which they prefer. These range from metal clubs to rock bars, and often have pool tables. Those are my kind of bars. So let me tell you about the one I found in Hermanus; Jax.

Tucked away in an alley, in the heart of Hermanus, is a bar that for many years went by the name Marimba. Then it was more of a locals' bar, where almost everyone who drank there knew the owner. I worked there when I had just finished Matric. After six years, and many different owners, the place is now more of a rock bar. The atmosphere is relaxed, and people often plug there cellphones into the PA system, and play their own music, if the bar is quiet enough for this not to be a problem for the other patrons. It even has something that is sorely missed in other bars: a jukebox.

One night there I ended up dancing Gangam Style with a stranger and spoke at length to a woman who would like me to run her guest house during December. Sadly I have not heard back from her, and she would not give me her number. Oh well.

If you are the kind of person who likes to go out, but hates clubs and enjoys music with instruments in them, then Jax is a good place to go. It attracts a very relaxed crowd, and the bartender (who came down to Hermanus for a month and has been here for almost three years) assures me that there are never any fights there. I find it strange how the more demonised sub-cultures; like metal-heads and bikers, often are the more relaxed, and have the safest venues and events. Guys with piercings and tattoos, I find, are the least likely to start a fight. Often it is more those who are well-dressed and socially considered respectable, who cause trouble with a person who offends his sense of normality. The amount of times I had to endure drunken barrages when I had long hair is unbelievable. People who wear leather, dye their hair seven different colours, put metal in their skin, or do menial jobs, have the same feelings as those who wear suits and ties. I like the freaks of society, because in truth they are far less strange. They have chosen to be who they are despite the reactions -- or maybe because of them. 

Oh well. I think I may have lost the ploy of the assize some sentences back.