befriended

My ignorant assumption on my first day here that Cape Town was a smallish city was completely wrong. I think it was symptomatic of trying to impose familiarity on somewhere that was completely new. To trick myself into thinking that this city reminded me of other cities I had seen. Edinburgh is by the sea, known for its wind and also has a big rock in the middle of it. But there is a reason why one is a seat and one is a table and I think Arthur would have to stand on his chair to see whatever it is that is steaming away on the table top.

Soon I am sure I will stop trying to superimpose my last life on to this one. I’ll stop seeing things that are the same, and I’ll stop thinking I recognise people I once knew in the faces of the people I meet here.

I keep being introduced to friends of friends of friends. The first meetings are a bit like blind dates. You meet online, send a message, and wait nervously for a reply. On the assurance of the mutual friend that the other person is worth knowing, you both express interest in meeting then exchange numbers. Responsibility for assigning a rendezvous point defaults to the local party. On arriving at location I feel this compulsion to look very busy: checking my phone or reading the a menu, or staring in to a corner of the room where they couldn’t possibly be so that it falls to them to make the approach.

Then, when you have successfully recognised each other through a mixture of preparatory internet stalking and from identifying similarly fidgety habits, there is the slightly awkward decision of what kind of greeting you go for. Waving is definitely insufficient. It is important to make some form of physical connection, as this breaks down the first of the barriers that good manners might throw up between you. A handshake seems very formal, two kisses too French, and I have found myself – more often than not – throwing myself into a hug. I can’t help it: I feel so grateful that anyone replies to my messages let alone shows up in front of me that I feel compelled to hug them and risk a whole load of fresh awkwardness. But so far I have been lucky, and have been hugged back.

To get in contact with a person get in touch; properly get hold of them.

Because then after we’ve had a drink and talked for a while, you are no longer a friend of a friend. Now you are a friend of mine.