Keep it Cape

Despite all good intentions and a stack of self-written rules about blending in and finding a foothold in a new town, I've managed to still keep that feeling of sudden elevation, lifting me from my feet every now and again and tossing me backward into a deep pool of sudden emotion.

Only yesterday have I moved into my permanent room. My sole possession, beyond the necessary clothes and the like, is my king size mattress. Driven here stuffed all the way up to the passenger seat, I feel like I have achieved something meaningful. It looks a little overpowered as it tries to fill the vast empty space, simply thrown down in the middle of the floor. A marble mantelpiece cradles a fireplace. The high walls are still painted in a distasteful yellow, and I realize from experience that I have another week to paint it, or I will never have myself doing it.
This morning I finished writing a 7500 word essay just half an hour before the deadline, which isn't that bad, really. But the anticlimax followed soon: as the week of work had steadily drained all my energy, the lack of a push left me hanging right where I clicked the ' send' button. I washed some clothes and wanted to cook but felt a little uncomfortable after the maid had just cleaned the whole kitchen, so I poured myself a bowl of cereal and started scanning the huge book shelves my studied housemates have filled up over the years. I picked up Nigerian classic "The Palm Wine Drinkard", yet realised I was tired of words altogether, whether academic, typed by me, or read in a piece of world literature. I carried on contemplating the ceiling.

Cape Town holds me in it's grip, since my arrival i haven't left it's immediate surroundings. Mind you, there is a whole lot to experience, and university takes up it's time too, but like the guide books warn: Cape Town is an easy place to get stuck in.