I had an amazing weekend. Can I take a moment to brag about my weekend? I’ll take your silence as a yes.
So friends of family live in Cape Town and occasionally invite me over there to live in their world for a few days. It is a strange and wonderful world of luxury and entertainment which I wouldn’t otherwise experience here. And it’s only the thickness of my passport that allows me to hold my own in conversations with French people who “summer” in Cape Town and a couple who just returned from their four week holiday in China and Vietnam. It was a lovely weekend though of horseshows and kite shows and concerts and hiking and lunch at my favorite Muizenburg café and incredible meals every night and sushi so good that it was all I could do not to groan with every bite like Bill Murray in “What about Bob” (don’t worry - I restrained myself).
So Saturday morning, I was standing in the enormous bathroom (which, by the way, is nearly twice the size of my entire room here) when my hostess asked me if I would like a soft-boiled egg for breakfast. Now I had no idea what a soft-boiled egg was, but I politely said yes. When I sat down at the breakfast table, I lifted the little warmer from my plate to discover an egg nestled neatly in it’s own little egg cup…still in the shell. Guessing that it was probably inappropriate to pick up the whole thing and peel it by hand, but finding no special cutlery around except a small spoon, I suddenly remembered an old black and white movie I had seen where the woman delicately tapped the egg with her spoon and somehow it was magically edible. But instead of tapping it on the side and neatly removing the top of the egg in one little cap (as I learned later after watching my host), I made the fatal error of whacking my egg square on the top. So while my host was engrossed in reading me an article from the newspaper, I had to resort to picking off the shell piece by piece and leaving it in a very undignified little pile on my dish. I then dug in with my spoon only to find I had removed too much shell and the yellow yolk was now oozing down the sides of the dish.
I am sure there is a spiritual lesson in there somewhere, but I have yet to find it. Who eats soft boiled eggs anyways?!?
Besides the egg incident though, I was able to safely navigate most of the weekend without making a complete fool of myself. I even side-stepped the intinction fiasco at church on Sunday (see this post). We finished off the weekend with a hike up to the top of Paarl rock where we were greeted with this view.
It’s really better if your eyes are open.
We could see all the way to Cape Point! It was fantastic and is definitely a new must-see for all you Capetonians.