Deliciousness

This peaceful young lady is not me...

This weekend saw the start of the annual Kadampa Buddhist festival in Mooiriver, on the foothills of the Drakensberg. It promised to be a weekend of quiet relaxation and meditation, surrounded by peaceful ravines, tweeting birds and Buddhist monks.

So there I was on Friday night confronted by my usual dilemma of what to pack and what to wear, how many pairs of heels are appropriate for two days...never mind the Buddhist retreat - I was off to Durban for a weekend party!

Paneer Palak

Before you get all excited about  my thrasher of a weekend let me say that I had a quiet one, a good weekend, but rather quiet...It started with Friday nights dinner at a quaint little Indian restaurant in Pietermaritzburg called Tandoor.  This has to be one of my all time favourite restaurants because the food is so amazing! But more importantly, the owners wear turbans which just makes the dining experience that much more authentic. Pietermaritzburg is a city that leaves a lot to be desired, but it often surprises with scatterings of such gems. So named because of the clay oven that the food is prepared in, Tandoor is located in upper Bulwer Street, far from the bustle of the city centre. My favourite dish is the Paneer Palak, it looks like a crazy mixture of mowed grass and braai lighters, but it tastes like a dream. I get it every time I eat here. The fun part of this dining experience, other than the bottles of wine we took with, is that the food is presented in an ensemble fashion so I get to taste everyone's food without looking rude.

My homies- head chef Jasbir Singh (left) and  co- owner  Jaswant Singh (right) hail from Punjab in India.

Saturday saw a mildly shaky start with complements of the previous nights merlot. But I was soon on my way, starting with a farewell braai for my German friend at Amsterdam bar in Davenport Road, Glenwood Durban. Formally known as Rocker Bar, Amsties has an awesome, relaxed vibe, I have spent many a night there taking advantage of the half price specials.
 The braai soon turned into an amazing full night party. The most memorable moment has to be getting a lap dance from a man dressed as a hooker for his bachelors party. I may have touched his naked bum as he swung around a wooden pole outside. The German ordered two kegs and many frozen tequilas so I vaguely remember a peck on the cheek from a handsome man with a chiseled jawline, I am hoping this was not a dream. It could have been though...

Amsties, just a regular place, you know...with fire dancers etc...

To end a food filled weekend, my besties and I went to an all-you-can-eat Sushi bar in Umhlanga called Bamboo Lounge.  The name even sounds delicious, it conjures up all kinds of images of pandas eating in forests and frolicking around, perhaps some butterflies floating yonder... Seriously friends ALL-YOU-CAN-EAT! what we do is sit at the bar so that when the sushi is put out we get first dibs on all the delicious sushi, we leave all the boring stuff to the rest of the patrons. Their fault, they weren't fast enough!

This is too tempting

So that is the end of my delicious weekend, what a goodie. Next weekend is going to be amazing, here is a little preview for you. I better get some sleep.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S-L746gczkQ&feature=related (this is my most favourite Haezer melody/ song/ leid ).

Friday is going to be insane!

Phallicsy: Art still has power

"Yeah, that right, I'm your President Bitch!" 

"The SACP is outraged at the insulting, disrespectful...disgusting, and sadistic so-called portrait of President Zuma by Brett Murray, " spokesperson Malesela Maleka said in a statement. "This portrait is deeply offensive and an extreme act of provocation to the overwhelming majority of our people. To us Brett Murray has crossed the line."       -The SACP speaking out against the 1.85m- high painting entitled The Spear, which features in the exhibition; Hail to the Thief 2 by Brett Murray at the Goodman Gallery in Johannesburg.

Forgive me friends, but who the fuck is Brett Murray and where in Gods name is the Goodman Art Gallery? I don't say this to be cruel... I guess I'm a little jealous because I never became famous. In 2010 I did a 2D animated art piece entitled The Emperor's New Clothes, based on the children's tale by Hans Christian Andersen, which featured a naked Zuma parading around a village. Nobody seemed particularly perturbed, I never became famous! In fact one might comment that this sort of art is somewhat juvenile. Lets be real for a minute, I'm sure Brett is an amazing guy, (he has all the qualities that I am looking for- now with the added benefit of being rich and famous), but what a load of shit. His work is rather ho-hum, although I do like statement pieces. But is it art?

OK perhaps I'm not that interested in Brett 

 I would argue that it is indeed art. What makes an art piece? To me art is determined not only by an artists skill, but by their ability to bring about an emotional resonance within its audience. The Spear has in fact caused such a raucous, creating public debate around the role of our President, that we can indeed call it art. But to whom does it speak? In my opinion, most humble, our President is not at all offended by this portrait. What male in his right mind is offended by being portrayed as being so well endowed. In fact any man would be proud to display such a large member...and that is him flaccid! The truth is that our President has a reputation for his insatiable sexual appetite. One has to wonder why then the ANC is pushing so hard to put the spotlight on this issue. The ANC find this portrait provocative and "deeply offensive", but by taking action against the artist, Zuma's sexual history will once again be aired. Zuma's advisor's have made a grave mistake which will further tarnish the image of our President. Perhaps Zuma should take a leaf out of  Canadian Premier Stephen Harper's book. A current exhibition by Margaret Sutherland at the public library in Kingston, features a nude painting of the Premier entitled Emperor Haute Couture. It shows a nude Harper reclining on a chaise surrounded by suited onlookers, with a board looking dog at his feet. MP Scott Brison said of the painting: "It's obvious Harper hasn't got much to hide." And what a truth it is! Harper should sue for being portrayed with such a small penis. But instead his spokesperson Paula Schuck commented: "Everyone knows he is a cat person."
Well played Harper, with a little humour all crisis can be averted.

"I have a small willy."

As I am writing this, the news is reporting on two gentlemen who have just defaced this portrait.
http://www.news24.com/SouthAfrica/News/Zuma-painting-defaced-at-Goodman-Gallery-20120522

So here I was about to launch into a big phallic debate about the African-penis-myth, but now I just feel that it is my job as a thinking person to leave this subject alone. Lets not pay any more attention to this juvenile debate, let the politicians rip each other apart. This is not an issue of race or indecency or even art, it is a campaign by the ANC to tarnish our Presidents reputation.

Now this is art!

If you ask me The Spear is a much better painting now and one thing is for sure, the German who bought it for R136 000 is laughing all the way to the bank. Imagine the returns on that investment. 

People say its a sad day for art when intolerance leads to the defacing of an artists work. I think today is a fabulous day because it proves that art still has power. I wish I could be so glamorous as to have my work so publicly displayed. And one day- if I'm really lucky the ANC can launch a campaign against me, that is influence!

2005, Queen Victoria by Banksy; You don't see the Royals kicking up a fuss at this beautiful piece.

Meat Pie

Have you ever had one of those days...When you wake up to find yourself  in a different home feeling a little  groggy... So you take a walk to the kitchen to have a drink of water, and are immediately confronted by the sight of a very exotic looking American gentleman doing naked yoga?...No!..Well this happened to me on Saturday morning. Let me start at the beginning...

Like most wonderful nights it all started with a drink... A drink at Three O' clock in the afternoon at the office. With the Editor being called away, our Deputy stepped up to the plate, declaring Friday "Phuza Friday", which in South Africa translates to "Drink Friday", but what it actually means is to get drunk on Fridays.
And so a plan was hatched. After work I made my way to Durban for an unusual "free entry night"  at a new club called Live The Venue on Stanford Hill Road. It definitely was worth the long queue (which I of course ignored and went to the front of ). The vibe was amazing and all my wonderful friends were there. But my night really kicked up a gear upon the arrival of one we shall name "The American", with all his American friends in tow. I realise that everyone that knows me just gave an audible gasp, but I have changed my ways. I no longer despise the American race, I love them! All thanks to "The American"! Now I could go on about what a delicious specimen he is, but I don't have enough words, so you can just trust that he is quite a delight.
But I digress. At around three in the morning all lights are turned on and a sweeper man sweeps us all out the door. This is where it gets interesting. I end up in a twin cab surrounded by Americans, with the exception of the strange South American/ South African who chose to sit in the back. South American/ South African instructs us to pull over at a dodgy BP and vanishes, apparently he is off to purchase a "meat pie"! Friends... What the hell is a meat pie? I always thought a meat pie was a woman's vagina! Apparently in America one must first establish what sort of pie one is talking about. To me this is like saying a "canine dog" or a "motor car", of course the dog is a canine and naturally the car has a motor. So I end up laughing hysterically, no noise coming out, clapping like a retarded seal. Not a proud moment for South African.
We go back to The Americans' home and make happy. Just as I am falling deeper in love with America, I get passed a drink that I have noticed doing the rounds at this gathering. Quite yummy so I take a large gulp. They call it "The Red Devil", I have no idea what it was but it put me in a very happy place. I resolve to look it up in the morning so that I may sample this deliciousness again.



The Red Devil

I open my weary eyes to the sound of happy American banter, The American (the one and only), next to me is still snoring so i tiptoe to the kitchen...and there he is! In all his splendour! I have never seen such a big man in all my life! I am sure such a wonder was not present at the previous nights gathering. This exotic man shook my hand and continued into the "Downward Facing Dog" position. Now I dont usually blush but...
To end my amazing night I got dropped off back at my friend Wendy's house, and just for my sins I got served a warm American meat pie.



I love America

Packing for Splashy

Here it is...the place I hold most dear to my heart- my wardrobe!

EVERY year is the same. I start with a list of items, arranging my Splashy essentials from most to least important. This year’s hottest item is dry-hair-shampoo. 
I am especially pleased about this find as it means I won’t have to wash my hair on the river bank as has become a yearly custom. 
Inevitably there is a long queue and I only wake up when the hot water runs out.
Once I have perfected my list I can move on to my wardrobe. I systematically go through all drawers and shelves, stripping them of every warm item I own. 
This is where the importance of lists becomes clear. I dig through my pile and check my clothes against my list. 
Great care has been taken to ensure that I have chosen the right Splashy clothes. One does not simply take a pair of jeans for example. I make sure that the jeans I take are not only warm enough for the cold Underberg nights, but figure-hugging enough to hopefully attract that shy guy’s attention. 
If the jeans fail, a girl can always rely on her gumboots. Mine are pink with purple polka dots, I cannot wait to shove them on. 

Finally, I have an edited pile of clothes and accessories and I’m all ready to go. Now to find a bag commodious enough to stow it all … Our driver, a brave man who agreed to transport four girls, quake at the sight of all the bags — every item essential of course — that somehow has to be loaded on his double cab. As we drove off, he mutters darkly that we’ll have to repack it all if we get stopped at a road block.