A winter in July

It’s winter in Cape Town. On some days this means 22 degrees, a soft sunlight, a clear blue sky and sharp mountains, a fresh ocean breeze, less waiting for taxis, beautiful empty beaches and more space on the dance floor. Other days, it means a thick white duvet covering the entire city or rain in all forms possible. The weather changes rapidly and there is a reason why the cable car transporting excited tourists 1085 meter above sea level to the top of Table Mountain are allowed to open and close the running car at any time, due to weather conditions.

When you see the white table cloth of clouds settling on the mountain, you know in what direction the wind is blowing.

I love every day and every weather here and hate to break it to you all back home, but I couldn’t care less about Swedish summer right now. There is so much concern about the weather under those three months and people are so attentive during their holiday they forget to enjoy. I don’t know. There is just so much pressure.

Here, on the other hand. If it’s a nice day, you go outside and have a picnic, or sit on a roof top restaurant or meet up with you friends and have drinks on the beach waving goodnight as the sun sets. If it’s a cloudy day, you go to the gym for a run or if its raining, you stay inside and watch movies and listen to the raindrops against the window.

Making plans and changing plans have never been so easy.

When I arrived in March it was the end of summer and we had perfect temperatures. I used to sleep with my window open and listen to the night crickets play. Now, I sleep with a heater (my hottie) next to my bed and an extra blanket. At some points, before we got the heater, the temperature in our apartment was down to 10 degrees. But now we are fine and what does it matter anyway, when there is a woman sleeping in a cardboard box outside my block. I’m sure she can’t wait for summer.

Kapstaden

sträcker mig upp
småler min kropp
och öppnar mina ögon
i ett småkyligt rum
med smatter mot min ruta
fleecefilt och sömniga fötter
utanför mitt täcke

en stad, en tid
full av konfetti
som droppar, över mitt blonda hår
och mitt leende
i regnbågens alla färger
på Lång Gata
ett hjärta i halsgropen

ögon, strålande stjärnor
i mörkret

med musiken under mina fötter
dansar jag mig igenom
ännu en dag