I long to feel… to taste… to see. Not a man, simply Herbal ib. An infusion of raspberry, hibiscus, and mint. (And other stuff I can’t remember now)
Very upset, that is how you can describe my demeanor for the past three weeks. Endless sleepless nights, teary mornings and dismal late afternoons consistent of running the holy bejesus out of my poor body, as a method of extracting thoughts that would help me make sense of my life.
My solace… tea. No not just tea tea, herbal ib infusion. In my mother’s home, as in many of my friend’s homes, tea is undoubtedly always the answer (Until lunch time at least, because that is when I turn to Whiskey). Since I can remember, the phrase that was the starting point to each and every “life crisis solution” was: “Kom ons maak vir jou n bietjie tee.” (translated as, “Lets make you a cup of tea” for our non afrikaans speaking folk)
But I have not always enjoyed the loving aegis, characterised by Herbal ib. I found this special, hot (in colour) dark pink tea a mere month and a half ago at a place called The Origin, a local coffee house and barista training centre in the heart of the Waterkant, the artistic quarter of Cape town, otherwise known as home, to many of my coffee aficionado friends.
At first I marveled at the fact that the same group of people come to the same cafe everyday, and sit there for the better part of the day, working, arguing, taking bets and scrutinizing unsuspecting newcomers. To an extent it is a bit of a meat market really, and as with all meat markets, there are some interesting cuts… lets leave it at that.
I have lived in the mother city for seven years, and thought that I had seen and found it all, so my introduction to the Origin was a supervenient gem in the crown of a cape so familiar to me.
f l i c k e r y 