MY FIRST TRIP TO JOBURG

My mom almost freaked out when I told her that I, a boytjie from Brits, was going to the City of Gold, on my own.

The year was 1995 and we’d all heard tales of how Joburg was dangerous and how bodies lay strewn on the streets. Still, I took a taxi to Pretoria and then Jozi. I was wide eyed, taking in all the sights on the Ben Schoeman highway. This was easy, all those tales were just to scare us off. Then we entered the CBD and people started getting off. Well, the question was: where was I getting off? The logical thing was to ask the driver. That done, I got off at the rank and heard someone shouting: “Sandton! Sandton!” Well, why not? So off I went to Sandton.

I asked the driver again where I should get off in Sandton. He told me to relax. So I did, and took in all the sights.

Forget the Joburg CBD, I was going to Sandton. My, the story I’d tell my friends back home.

Then the cityscape changed and it was obvious I was in Sandton. I walked like I’d been there before. Strode. Sauntered even. Not giving anything away. Well, who’d tell anyway. Store after store … names I’ve never seen before. Expensive stuff … and the prices. My, my, my.

Then I felt the hunger pangs. Since I couldn’t afford the pricey restaurants I bought a pie and Coke and satiated myself. Then it was time for more exploring. This was turning out to be much easier than I’d imagined. I just felt at home.

I entered a store I’d never seen before, Stuttafords. A woman at the entrance stopped me. What now?

“Sir, would you like to try our new cologne?” Oh … okay. A spritz on my wrist was all it took. This was heavenly. I then strolled in and fed my eyes. What sights to take in. The smell of the cologne followed me everywhere.

I was really enjoying myself. This is how memories are made.

The next store I sauntered into was Edgars — it was almost triple the size of the store in Brits. And it also had two floors.

My, how time flies. My mom must have been freaking out, not knowing I was safe and enjoying myself.

I then went to the library and immersed myself in book after book, just to rest my feet and pass the time. I was having the time of my life in the glitzy part of Joburg. Who’d have thought.

Well, until it was time to go back home. I was back on the taxi to the CBD, satisfied and proud of myself. The trip back to Pretoria was shorter than I’d anticipated but I didn’t mind. I had stories to tell my friends about how safe Joburg was and how there was nothing to fear.

That evening I just sat and thought about the day well spent, the people and sights I had seen. I had learnt two lessons. When you’re not sure about something, ask. And when you arrive at a place for the first time always explore, even if it’s a concrete jungle.

That night I slept with the bright lights of Joburg in my eyes … and the lingering smell of cologne on my wrist.

Do you have a funny or quirky story about your travels? Send 600 words to travelmag@sundaytimes.co.za and include a recent photograph of yourself for publication with the column.