Casting a nostalgic eye back at the magic of a bohemian slice of Jozi

What a drag it is getting older, to quote The Stones. But by all the gods in the Roman Empire, it is true. Because the way you used to party in your 20s and 30s now simply looks ridiculous in soft middle age. Dancing on tables used to be cool, now it is doubtful whether the legs would support the softness of an expanding girth.

And it is not the beer. Because when you start wheeling downhill from your 40th birthday, holding your liquor the way you used to be able to becomes a fallacy that now feels like it was never founded in fact. At least a bottle of tequila or whiskey lasts longer, a fringe benefit to ageing with today’s price tags.

But gone are the parties. So too the nights on the streets in Yeoville, later migrating to Melville when even the bleeding hearts and artists could not compete with the criminal elements that took over Rockey Street’s bohemia.

And Melville was amazing. A segue for anyone old enough to remember was the Thai restaurant, Kuala Blu. It was run by two Thai families and their food was authentically Thai and spectacularly tasty as the real thing.

Since its disappearance, not one Thai restaurant has been able to match the authentic flavours of this fine establishment.

Close by was, and always will be, Ratz. It is a bar, an institution where loud conversation and a great atmosphere with cheap drinks was a precursor to watching the sun rise at Catz Pyjamas, at the time situated in the “new” Melville.

Down the drag from the legendary Bassline club was the street that connected Main Road in Melville to Fourth Street, or old Melville as we called it.

The Mixer and the Mixer Studios were situated there, a great House of Coffees and further on, towards the Roxy Rhythm Bar side of the suburb, a video shop that unfortunately did not survive the VHS to DVD transition.

On the corner of Seventh Avenue and Main was Roma, a legendary Italian restaurant that was always busy, no matter the day of the week.

Dining there or even just getting a takeout almost came with a guarantee that you would see someone famous enjoying one of Roma’s famous pizzas. Like Mama’s in Yeoville, Roma was the quaint neighbourhood Italian place. Like Mama’s it died for no reason I could fathom, and in its place appeared a franchise.

Big Time Taverna was rivalled only by Theo’s in Rosebank at the time for the best Greek food you would find anywhere in Joburg.

Down below was the Koljander Home Industry that turned neighbourhood baking into a national trend for a while.

Full Stop Café, De La Crème, Melville Books, Bookdealers of Melville – it was heaven hitting the streets of Melville at any time. There was also Jack Tupp and across the road, other quaint stores with goodies, gadgets, novelties, and industry.

There was a vibe to Melville and everyone felt it. Everyone lived it, and after emigrating from the ruins of Yeoville, everyone tried to rebuild bohemia on the West Rand. In many ways, it has been successful.

Restaurants came and went, stores opened and shut. But you can still have a coffee at De La Crème and browse for a read at Bookdealers.

After a few years of rot, new pubs, gathering places and loud music spots have moved in to save bohemia. No matter how hard other suburbs try, how markets try and label themselves or position their marketing to attract the artsy set, it just does not cut the mustard.

Yeoville did. But it has been dead long enough to decompose and lose its soul in the potholes that pockmark Rockey street. That is, if you can see them beneath the trash.

There is no other place apart from Yeoville and Melville that had the spirit of creativity and bore the torch of youthful energy along with the savvy and wisdom of experience quote like it.

And now, frankly, Melville is all that Joburg has left.