A Box of Delights

by Doug Roland

After 6 months living in Pietermaritzburg, the bloom is off the rose. Things have become familiar -we don't need the Garmin to go to the grocery store, find a nearby church, or go to a park. Cricket (the sport) drones on for weeks at a time sucking up a lot of TV air time. While at first we were met regularly with wonderful surprises, charming customs and practices, such are now routine. It's common after living in one place for awhile. Locals tell us that we've been to more places in the country than they have. Back home, we can say the same thing about Florida. People live habitually - it's comfortable, predictable and safe. It would be easy for us to slip into that so we have to find new, more subtle things that amuse and delight. We refuse to go there. We are dedicated to staying out of the box. Here are a few samples of recent finds:

a free local "newspaper" is stuffed into our mailbox each week. It includes TV listings for the next week, except Thursday - always Thursday.

Similarly, there is a website for the local mall, including movies times at its multiplex. But the dates are always at least a week old.

Tomato stakes (you know, keeping the vines off the ground) are named "stoppers".

Ham from the leg of the pig is called "gammon". Tastes the same, though.

Chocolate chips, the kind you make cookies with, are rare and found only in thimble size containers. This in a continent with some of the world's best cocoa.

There is a little restaurant north of here called the "Sticky Fig". (It's just down the road from the "Pickle Pot.") One of its specialties is a fig sandwich. It's great.

We would pronounce 8:30 as eight-thirty. Here, it's hah-pahst eight.

There is a common road sign on the limited access highways that reads "Average Speed Prosecution". What the h___ does that mean?

In the US, we approach a very large truck with a small truck behind it with a broad sign that says: WIDE LOAD. Here, it's ABNORMAL.

Many locals don't know where they are. They can give you great directions but usually without street or road names. Instead, you are directed by landmarks (FNB Bank; soccer stadium; Pic N' Pay; the old jail; etc.) Never mind asking for an address for the GPS. But they do know how to get there. And now, for the most part, so do we.

Yesterday was trash pick-up day. It must be a big job. There was the truck driver and maybe a passenger, accompanied by four assistants hanging on to the back. When the truck slows, all four jump off running through the street, hollering loudly at each other, presumably in a sort of coordinated pickup of 3 black garbage bags. The neighborhood dogs, seeing four guys in blue work uniforms running through the street, went into a frenzy, waking those who have chosen Friday to sleep in. From a municipal service standpoint, the efficiency is doubtful, but it's good theater.

Finally, a preview of coming attractions. It's time for our car to go in for "routine" service. Typically, that means, oil, filter, checking fluids. Since we had not been to this dealer before, we were required to come in, show i.d., and fill out forms (Oh to have the concession on forms in this country.) I asked about how long the service would take. "Most of the day", they replied. We have a broken tail light and also need a second key. This means parts. If they know you need a part, you must first pay for it; the dealer orders it and will call you when it's in. You pick it up at one counter on the day of service and take it to the another counter. It is not without reason that I doubt the Tuesday date will hold. How many other parts doesn't the dealer stock? Will they run an MRI on the car and find a need for more parts? "Sorry, you'll have to reschedule until the part(s) comes in." Here's what I'm thinking: the car's warranty will run out in about 500 kilometers. If we are delayed another couple of weeks . . . . well, you get the idea. This could take a while. Stay tuned.

Meanwhile, we will continue to seek meaning in the odd corners and serendipitous turns of our journey.