Jesters Pub

I do like my taverns; of this I am not ashamed. The reason is, simply; the people. A pub environment offers you social interaction with a wide variety of individuals that you would not normally meet, engaging in well-lubricated discourse. Ah, the hyperbolic exclamation of love and appreciation. Oh woe to the sombre drunk who stares into his tankard in the search for a shimmering speck of hope. A pub should not be compared to a club, in which the loud thumping music makes your idle prattle sound like cheeky, witty banter. No my friends, I mean a Pub. Finding a good one is always difficult. In Knysna, I have found mine

Just next to the Knysna library is a little bar called Jesters; not to be confused with the alternative club in Port Elizabeth. Ah what a wonderful place this is. Steven behind the bar is the cocktail of sardonic wit, wells of information and a fine conversationalist if ever I have met one. For all of Knysna's rolling hills and beautiful sunsets, I think I shall miss Jesters the most. I have met some of the most interesting people of my life in that establishment. It keeps drawing me to it by some magic, and the hours melt by, because I do not want to leave.

It helped make Knysna feel like a second home. Thanks to all.

If you want to get the lay of the land, place you finger on the gentle pulse of Knysna; unabated and passionately told, then that is the place to start. And when you do pop your head in there, tell Steven I say hi.

Tuesdays: Backgammon 6pm onwards
Wednesdays: Happy Hour 5-6pm
Thursdays: Ladies' Night 6-9pm
Friday: Happy Hour 5-6pm
Sundays: Come Braai With us
Also: Jenga - Darts - Wicked Cool People
@ Memorial Square - Kynsna

First Night in Knysna

After the car debacle during my first night, I thought I should see what a Friday evening in Knysna looks like. So off I went, alone, into the fluorescent unknown.

Oldies
Now this was the first place I was told to check out. A great place by the looks of it. It appears to cater to bikers a lot; or so I gather by the many pictures of bearded leather-clad men by their bikes. The bar staff is friendly, but not the the type of social vibe one looks for when you are alone. The tables are filled with pre-set social groups and some families. So I sat by the bar, making note of the day's events; longing to be back at Bush Bar. Then the strangest thing happened: for the first time during my trip I started to feel lonely. As you are about to find out, that did not last long.

Kings
The locals at Oldies told me to try Kings, and I am glad that they did. It was my kind of bar. Just the right amount of seedy; not to so much that its scummy, but enough to bring in a crowd that are unpretentious and open to conversation. It's important that the clientèle don't take themselves too seriously. The bar-stools are stacked beer crates with cushions. I have to admit I was very partial to the black and red decor, but that's me. I could even excuse the rugby T-shirts on the wall. What's a bar without a bit of sports trimming? Just as I was thinking to myself, "Hmmm, these people look interesting, I would like to get to know them better", this guy turns to me and asks me what I am doing. I was taking notes, so I explained the trip and my intentions, and when finding out I was not there with anyone he graciously invited me to join his table. Chris, you are a legend. At the table I met such gems as Jonty the Jew, and Carl (if you forget his name just ask yourself, what is naked in Afrikaans).

Zanzibar
After many jokes were shared, we headed off to Zanzibar. It is the type of meat-market every town creates when it gets to a certain size. The bigger the town, the more they have. It is some kind of universal law. I was last there a few years back, for the Gay Pride Festival, the Pink Loerie. At the time they had a silhouette of Batman on one of the walls, sadly it is there no longer. So the night continued into the early morning. It was a warm and exiting introduction to Knysna that more than made up for the troubles I had with my car.  

I don't know what to tell you about Zanzibar. We all know these clubs; huge dance floor, a few sections were you can sit on comfy couches and pretend you're not sixteen. Let's see ... there is the balcony; that's a must. There was one thing that really impressed me was the DJ that played some of the score from Star Wars.

Maybe Batman is till there in spirit.

Plett 09-08-2012

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.