While sitting one of Cape Town's fine coffeeshops, enjoying a cup of tea and minding my own business, a pretty girl sits down in the chair I explicitly left open on the off-chance a pretty girl might sit down. After a bit of converstaion I discover that she's a journalist for a small local newspaper, and that a CD release party for a famous South African poet that was imprisoned and then banished for his struggle against apartheid. She leaves for the "invitation only" party, and I leave for dinner. After dinner, I decide to check this party out for myself.
First, I get a glass of wine at the downstairs bar to look official. Next, I make a bee-line for the private upstairs room. Not too fast, else you look anxious. But not too slow, or you look suspicious. No eye contact, and don't answer to anybody trying to address you. Just keep walking and you'll be fine.
Of course, none of this was really important, because nobody was checking names at the door anyway. In no time ... [more]