A woman friend and I weren’t sure about having lunch at what was a non-descript, although decent looking, roadside diner/restaurant we happened to be driving by. It sat just outside of Swellendam, near Cape Town, South Africa.
It was a sunny, warm day. We pulled in, parked and started to amble to the restaurant door. Even as we walked towards the building we were still unsure if it was where we wanted to eat; but the parking lot was pretty full, and the place seemed to be buzzing. We shrugged, it would probably do.
Happened to see this tweet this morning, and it got me thinking:
Many Americans may not like soccer, but at least they get what’s going on: each team want to get the ball into the opposing team’s goal somehow without using their hands.
Cricket is certainly more complicated. I won’t even attempt to explain nuances. In simple terms, it’s not unlike baseball. However, there is nowhere that’s a “foul ball” – everywhere is in play.
To score runs, after the one who is being “bowled” at makes contact with the ball and decides to try to run, both batsmen run back and forth between the wickets accumulating runs until they don’t want to risk being run “out.” A batsman is “out” (like a runner in baseball) if the fielding team somehow knocks the batsman’s wicket down. Every time running batsmen switch wickets (and they run carrying their bats), it earns their team 1 run.
A ball hit that rolls across the marked field boundary is an automatic 4 runs. (No running between wickets is required.) One that clears it on the fly is 6 runs. Hence the term one often hears in places like Britain and Australia: “Hit for 6.” It’s like saying “home run.”
The teams do that for two “innings” – for 10 outs per team; hence the high scores. That’s essentially the gist of the game. Once I figured out what they were trying to do, I admit I was hooked.
The first time I really paid close attention to a match in progress was during the 1999 World Cup. It was Australia vs. South Africa – and if you know cricket you know to what I’m referring. Two names: Lance Klusener and Allan Donald:
What an introduction to the game. My wife also warned me afterwards, “It’s great fun to watch at times, but don’t think it’s always that exciting.” ;-)
I”ve shared my personal “top places” list. We all like to talk “best.” When we travel, we tend not to seek out “the worst.”
But what about “bottom places”? Uh, I knew you’d ask that. ;-)
A “bottom” issue is one to be approached cautiously. We know there are “bottom” areas in any major city. The U.S. certainly doesn’t lack for them.
Outside of the U.S., if we say London is a great destination, we are likely not referring to certain neighborhoods in the north of the city, which are clearly not “tourist areas.” Similarly with Paris. Same Rome. The list could go on.
And there are many places I have never visited. And I hate criticizing. All that said, if I have to offer up a “bottom” major central city destination I have encountered traveling outside of the U.S., it was probably Johannesburg’s central business district.
South Africa is a difficult case, of course, owing to its history. Yet, comparatively, Cape Town’s downtown was excellent. Even Pretoria’s was fine.
I find naming a “favorite” author a tough question to answer. My fiction likes have varied over the years. If I think on a novelist I have liked consistently for the longest, probably at the top of my personal favorites list sits Alan Paton (1903-1988), the South African anti-apartheid author of Cry, The Beloved Country, Too Late The Phalarope, and Ah, But Your Land Is Beautiful.
I suppose – given what I have composed – it is no surprise I greatly admired Paton’s ability, especially in Ah, But Your Land Is Beautiful, to produce “fiction” from history, and to create “fictional characters” based on real people. (Yet it is pretty clear as well to readers reasonably familiar with South African history of the 1950s, that, say, “Dr. Hendrik” in “Land,” is future apartheid prime minister Hendrik Verwoerd. Obviously there were times Paton’s “fictional” characters were meant to be easily identifiable, real people, as interpreted “fictionally” by Paton.)
After Land was published in 1981, Paton admitted that its white liberal politician, “Robert Mansfield,” was based on himself. “Mansfield” eventually emigrates to Australia as a result of the apartheid government’s harassment. The real Alan Paton never fled the country, but of “Mansfield” Paton told interviewers:
“I didn’t like him, so I sent him off to Australia.”
True, writing a novel in which a main character is based on yourself is not exactly groundbreaking. Yet, in that same novel, written by you, you do not like “yourself” all that much, so you send “yourself” into exile? Brilliant.