Just as some evenings are for whisky, some mornings are for walking.
The sea, this morning, had that silvery sheen that, had I been a little girl who liked fairies and other pink things, I would have imagined the little buggers prancing around on the waves. Since I am not that girl, and neither do I like pink, I instead wished that I was out on the large boat sitting on the horizon, sipping champagne in the morning mist.
There is a charm to Sea Point that gets me every time, particularly early in the morning. You have the (way too enthusiastic) morning joggers. All the nice elderlies who make a point of greeting you (they, like I, have probably been up since 3, and are glad of the company). Then, a waft of marijuana smoke from somewhere below the promenade.
Then there was the man who stopped me and asked me to use his phone to take a picture of him with Lion’s Head in the background. After quickly sussing out whether he could be trying to steal something from me (?), I obliged, and went on my smiling way. But this is South Africa, and the healthy paranoia stops at nothing, so for a moment afterwards I wondered what he might do with my fingerprints on his phone. Was my identity lost? But then I remembered, this is South Africa, not CSI.
The only problem with sunrise walks is that you inevitably forget to take sunglasses, and unless you are clever enough to remember to start your walk in the right (other) direction, you end up walking straight into the sun. The mist today both redeemed and exacerbated the situation, since I wasn’t exactly blinded, but the sun and the mist wiped everything else out. It felt like something out of Cocoon, walking into the light of eternal youth.
Still, it was a good way to start the day, with only one thing missing; a hand in mine.