Journeylistic

Tuesday morning. Had a good night sleep, so a nice day to inhale the vibe of Cape Town. I asked my friendly ‘bunk’ neighbor to join me for a walk around town and within less then 20 minutes we are standing in the middle of all the commotion. Amazing, breathtaking, I feel right at home. Lets get some South African Rand from the ATM. My hostel friend wishes a different way to exchange her Angolan Kwanza’s cheap. She captured an address of some kind of exchange centre from another girl at the hostel yesterday. It should be just a couple of blocks away. I smile at her, sure no problem.

We are walking quite a while and the streets become poorer by the minute. In front of a small shop a curvy woman, sunk in thought, is sweeping the sidewalk. We are trying to get her attention and ask her if we could exchange. She scans me from top to bottom with one eye. You can read her mind. Skinny white chick that wants to change money here . . ?! But she let us in and shouts to someone in the back of the store. My Angolan friend observes the skinny guy who waves us inside with suspicion. This feels kind of dodgy and an ambush of ‘get out’ alarm bells are ringing in my head. But I can’t leave this girl alone now. So I follow the man two doors further. All the rooms are empty, quite a store. While checking if nothing behind us is getting locked, I reach for the pocketknife in my purse, which I got from my brother back home. You just never know.

We probably arrived at the ‘exchange centre’ as the man friendly demands us to sit down. Nothing but a small desk and three chairs brightens up the room. We take a seat and the skinny man asks what he could do for us. My Angolan friend lays down her Kwanza’s on the table. The man takes that as an answer and the balance sheets are drawn. The negotiation starts of a little rusty, but in no time big hand gestures are all over the place and every sentence starts with 'listen my brother!' and 'No my sister!’ My friend stands up and tries to overawe her opponent. She wants more value for her money. OK than, the man laughs. His four gold teeth exposed.
He opens the drawer next to his seat and the exchange takes place. Within a minute we pass both doors again.

The lady outside is still sweeping and smiles us goodbye as we exit the store. It's all good. As unobtrusive as possible, we giggle down the street. Sometimes the journey just takes you to the real places . . .