Best Chinese in Cape Town?

We went out of our Southern Suburbs comfort zone last night and headed for Sea Point to celebrate a friend’s birthday (Happy Birthday, Lindsay!). The Insurance Guy drove (thanks, Insurance Guy) and so it was up to us to drink. Hard life.

We ended up at a place called Xiang Yuan on Sea Point Main Road. And as we walked in, there were gasps of despair and horror, because the place looked… well… “shabby” (I’m being nice here). The fluorescent lights, dirty fridges and a grimy fish tank were less than inviting.
There was a glimmer of hope at the end of my tunnel vision though. Because it reminded me of somewhere I had been before: the infamous Wong Kei (aka “Wonkey’s”) in Chinatown in London. And while the decor there isn’t much to write home about, the food is superb. Could it possibly be that Xiang Yuan was Cape Town’s version of that epic restaurant experience?

Surely not.

We ordered, but then from the other end of the table came news of the bathroom – “even if you don’t need to go, you need to go…” they said with a knowing nod.

So I went. And it was fairly horrendous. A residential building from the back of the dining area up, it had a dirty bath, a filthy shower and a poorly hidden boiler…

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…it also had a mysterious urn in the corner, covered with a plastic urn tray, presumably to prevent people from using it as a second loo. Please also note the (empty) toilet roll holder above the bath, because… er.. I don’t know.

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Closer inspection of the shower (I tried not to touch, but the microbiologist within me had had his interest piqued) revealed a Gillette, the Best A Man Can… Ewww… razor covered in fungus so old that it (the fungus) had died, rather than just eating stuff that had died. All that was left was a bunch of highly infectious spores… Awww. [lip wobbles, holds breath]
And then there was this sign prettily affixed to the wall next to the (actually rather clean) toilet.

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“Rags”? “Cloth”? What are you doing with rags and cloth in a Chinese Restaurant? Why did you bring them along and why on earth would you chuck them down the loo? Do you not have suitable or adequate rag and/or cloth disposal facilities where you come from? Like… a bin, for example?
And “Newspapers”? It must be especially bad on a Sunday with those ludicrous property sections. Now, I fully recognise that the quality of the South African media is generally pretty s**t, but who chucks a newspaper down the toilet? In a Chinese restaurant? Why would you do that? Why do you need to be told not to? Jesus wept. What’s wrong with you people?

But then: Please do not flush… “toilet paper”? But… I… How…What are we supposed to do with it, then?
Is that what the urn is for?

I DON’T UNDERSTAND. I DON’T UNDERSTAND ANY OF IT.

Back downstairs to the raucous hordes, however, and something became very clear. The food was unbelievably good, without exception. The sushi was widely praised, the hot dishes were served quickly and without fuss or ceremony, Wong Kei style. My Szechuan Pork Belly was the best thing I’ve tasted in ages. Just wow. We ate, we drank and then we ate some more.

And the price of all this debauched banqueting? A mere R150 per person, including a hefty tip for the long-suffering staff. All in all, an absolutely magnificent evening.

So, if you’re looking for the best Asian cuisine in Cape Town, I just found it for you. Boom!
6000 Recommends… Xiang Yuan, 245 Main Road, Sea Point: Food amazing, parking horrendous, bathroom… interesting.

Footnote: No-one in our group has died since last night. 

Slow puncture

My bike seems to have a slow puncture. (If you’re wondering about me and cycling, you need to read here.) I say that because a few days ago, my back tyre wasn’t flat, and now it is. This isn’t a huge issue, because, for the moment, I can ride on it and then I can pump it up before I ride on it next time. This will, however, get rather irritating and I can see that I will have to repair the puncture. For this, I will require a puncture repair kit. And therein lies the problem. Because that means going to a bike shop and buying one.

But I’m not an expert on cycling and the people in the shop are. Not a good situation, because here’s what will happen (but with cycling terminology, obviously):

Even The Molton Brown Boys – who, admittedly, are more into cycling than I am – regularly dazzle me at dinner with their chat on what CO2 bombs and patching compounds they are buying these days (apparently, these are things that help repair punctures while “on the go”). I don’t need such fancy, schmancy stuff though. I just want something firm under my bottom, simple as. 

Careful now.

So, yes, I’ll go through the rigmarole of asking for a puncture repair kit. And I’ll get laughed at because I’ll choose the wrong polymer or the incorrect hardening agent. Bleugh.

In the meantime, I’ll be taking the boy out for another long ride this afternoon.

Punctures permitting.

How Corpses Helped Shape the London Underground

I’ve had this Gizmodo article on my devices waiting to be read for some time. Now I have read it and it’s amazing. So you should too.

Some incredible stories about how bodies were (or weren’t – eww) disposed of in London over the past few hundred years, and how that influenced where and how the Underground network could be built.

It’s fascinating stuff.

The Bastille in Cape Town review

Finally, he gets around to it – just in time for the Friday night revellers to know that they’re going to have a great time tomorrow night.

The grey clouds over the mountain disappeared and took with them any worries of rain, leaving a pretty peach sunset as support act Bed On Bricks entertained us for a good 40 minutes.

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It’s always a bit sad for support acts, but no-one goes along to see them. Still, great exposure for the Cape Town outfit who have been around for 10 years now and you probably know more of their tracks than you think.

But then, much to the delight of the screaming female hordes, Dan Smith, his grey hoodie and his hair – oh, and his three chums, of course – emerged to the theme from Twin Peaks. And even the annoying Afrikaans girl next to me shut up for a couple of seconds as they launched into a powerful rendition of Bad Blood, which set the tone nicely for the rest of the evening for the band, although sadly not for the annoying Afrikaans girl.

Each song was performed precisely, professionally, energetically and individually. No fancy segues here, we had a song, we had a break of sound and light and then we had another song. And the light show was excellent, backlit silhouettes moving purposefully around the stage, while Smith smashed drums and headbanged his way through his performance up front, with such energy that he often seemed breathless in the interludes. Still, he managed to please the audience with the usual (but honest) “most beautiful place we’ve ever played” line (Joburg, you might not get this bit) and he seemed genuinely humbled to be in SA.

Overjoyed was ruined by our irritating neighbour talking loudly about her economics book, before we moved on to The Silence (song, not annoying girl) and then into a new song, Blame, with a heavy rock’n’roll theme coupled with the almost monastic Bastille vocals. Weird, but it really works and almost had a Depeche Modey feel to it – and that’s no small compliment. Laura Palmer was followed by These Streets and then another new one: The DrawDecent stuff it was too, although Dan needs to sort his repetitive, weedy, computer-says-no “I hope you like it” introduction out.

Cleverly, (because we’ve covered this issue of bands playing their established hits versus the need to showcase new music before) each new song was followed up by a couple of well-known numbers – Icarus and Flaws in this case.

And then they were off, ahead of the three song encore of the quiet Get Home (shut up, just SHUT! UP! Afrikaans girl), Of The Night – in which the audience were invited to pogo at the appropriate time and the grand finale, obviously, Pompeii.

A great night, a really professional performance and just one of those concerts when you could simply enjoy the musical genius of the guys on stage. Smith is obviously very into his music and the technology surrounding it, even more interesting when juxtaposed against the raw power of his drum beating, but the presentation of the songs was utterly flawless. It was odd, because this very clinical approach – no extra decoration or fuss – would usually have completely spoiled any gig, but here, it made perfect sense.

Bastille are a very listenable band and the new stuff shows only a very slight variation from their already established form. The next album, therefore, should be full of promise, but in the meantime, if you have a chance to see them live, do yourself a favour and get there – it’ll be well worth it.

Some very atmospheric photos here.