Joburg – The city of gold has held me in its thrall for as long as I can remember. Concrete canyons, little green oases, the hustle and bustle – and that’s just the CBD, the square described by the motorways, Ellis Park and Hillbrow. Sometimes that fascination is morbid, sometimes it’s downright dangerous, but it’s never boring.
I like walking around the streets whenever I can. There are fantastic bargains to be had in the street markets; from second-hand leather jackets to old greatcoats down President Street, lovely sachets of roasted peanuts or even quasi impromptu pavement braais, where the brazier is just about at your elbow, down Commissioner Street.
The real thrill is the moment of discovery, walking in the shadow of buildings redolent with history, cheek by jowl with brand new developments. It’s great to pop in to office blocks being renovated as flats and just ask the doorman to show you around.
In truth, you never have to move off the pavement. One of my favourite areas is the Marshalltown precinct. Go as far down as Main Street and soak in the city’s mining history; from the old stamp mill and the headgear to the impala stampede that face Anglo American’s head office. It was the Oppenheimers’ bequest to the city but got vandalised, recast and then resited in the mall that Main Street later became.
Walking north, you’ll go past the magistrate’s court and just off to the left, Chancellor House where Nelson Mandela and Oliver Tambo practised as lawyers. You can’t miss it, there’s an incredible holographic- esque statue of Madiba as a boxer.
Continue from there and you’ll go past a lovely statue of Walter and Albertina Sisulu, just off what was once Market Street and today is one of the longest streets in the city, Albertina Sisulu, stretching from the West Rand all the way out beyond the OR Tambo International Airport.
By now you’re a street away from President, which is best known not just for being one of the boundaries of The Star’s offices, several blocks up from SAB’s all-important World of Beer, but also home to the original merchants who have been in the area for several generations, and whose shops have featured in paint ads and even movies like The Material.
Once you’ve walked down President Street, you’ll never go to a flea market looking for authentic African curios again. You might never ever step into a northern suburbs boutique again for a pair of brogues or a tweed jacket – for the simple reason that you’re buying the real thing here at a fraction of the price.
I finally dragged myself into the 21st century this year. I’m not one for Facebook, I’m not much of a tweeter either, but I’ve found a new-found passion for Instagram.
It’s simple, it’s seamless and the picture that you take on your cellphone can be made to look like something they never were, by fiddling on the onboard editing suite.
Chuck in some of Joburg’s legendary thunderstorms (beforehand of course) and you’re sitting with an incredible tableau – without even trying.
The other great advantage is that your cellphone camera isn’t as obtrusive as a conventional camera, but watch out what you take.
Downtown Joburg might be fascinating, but it’s also wild in places, with certain activities looking banal until you get close and find out you’re documenting a fahfee runner or a card sharp doing a three-card trick at R100 a throw.
Stick to photographing the buildings and generic street scenes unless you are ready for a bit of a contretemps.
Joburg’s an incredible city with so much to be seen. Start slow if you’re not sure. Take the hop on-hop off bus (the topless bright red double decker) that leaves from Park Station. It’s a very safe, very cool way to discover a city that so many of us have, unforgivably, opted to forget.
Failing which, get lost in the World of Beer.