Tyrone Avenue — Parkview, South Africa
In our world of the ever-present, dazzling, glamor-filled, Mall we are, for those of us allergic, still fortunate enough to have the simple, yet elegant in its own right, neighborhood street, home to local stores and restaurants. A national, or for that matter an international branded store, not within smelling distance.
Visit one of these, often eclectic, stores and odds are you’ll be getting whatever assistance you require from none other than the proprietor. As much as I love young, at times enthused, clerks, god knows we need to employ as many as possible, particularly in this country, dealing with someone with a vested interest in the overall success of their hard-fought-for enterprise, will forever be a far more satisfying experience.
Blessed with the ability to travel, spending an extended time in each location visited, I do this as I prefer to get a better sense of the place, something not possible when only around for a short period trying to cram in as many of the highlights as possible, kinda like I’m doing with this run-on of a sentence.
The plan, which has worked well so far, is a simple one. Scout a coffee shop or three. Evaluate, to determine where I’ll hang out, meet locals, read, write, and get my days off to a happy, caffeine-induced start. One will be the major beneficiary of my patronage although I do try to spread the wealth.
I like to walk. Johannesburg is a big city, there are dozens of establishments close by from which to choose. I have time so I head out in all directions sampling. As you may no doubt have gathered, a Starbucks or equivalent, would not suffice. I’m no coffee snob, just give me a good black mug full and I’m good. My preference, when available, French pressed, or as it’s known here, plunge. More importantly, the vibe. Good food is a must as well.
As luck would have it, I find I’m often the beneficiary of good fortune, friends steered me to one of the multiple coffee shops nearby. Croft & Co., a local, popular spot abuzz with customers, some chatting, many in front of their laptops, entranced. I know people, a major reason for my visit. Plans made, we meet. There’s a good vibe. Talking to people isn’t an issue either, most are friendly, and willing to spare a few minutes of their precious time conversing.
After one such get-together, I make my way up the street in a direction I’d not been as yet, taking in the sights and sounds. There are stores in all shapes and sizes, gift stores, pharmacies, liquor, grocery, everything a neighborhood would need. A disproportionate number of restaurants with tables spilling out onto the not overly expansive sidewalk. People milling around. Street vendors abound, the very antithesis of the mall.
Tucked on the lower level in the back of a mini-center I see what looks like another, yes, coffee shop. The Perfect Cup, promises, promises. Quite a name to live up to I’d say. It’s still a bit chilly out so I opt for a table just inside the door. Turned out to be a bad choice as the woman seated next to me and I shared the ‘close-the-door’ duties — where were these people all raised in a barn?
It’s remarkable to me how inconsiderate, okay more like oblivious, people can be. Most are glued to their phones politely leaving to continue their personal conversation away from the other patrons which is great, just close the fucking door behind you — please.
As I’m wont to do, I post pics and reviews on google maps. Why, you ask? Why not? If my contributions help someone then I’m all in. I tend not to post negative stuff, I’d rather not post in those few cases until I give them a second try — a bad day and all that.
I did my posting and pretty soon the owner, Michele came over asking if it was me. She knows her customers so she knew it wasn’t one of them. Oh, the power of modern media. She was lovely, friendly, and enthusiastic. The mother of a youngster, it’s people like her that will continue to make positive contributions to her community, and her country. This makes my decision easy, while here this will be my go-to spot. (If interested, I did a piece on my blog about this place.)
Located right above, is a popular Italian restaurant Franco’s named after the owner. A family-run endeavor that has been a fixture here for some time. It’s always packed with happy, stuffed customers which is a major contributor to its success. They treat everyone like family, know their names, and go out of their way to please. Oh, the food is delicious and plentiful. Bring your appetite and don’t forget to book.
Following the Italian theme, Trabella sits a few doors down. It’s the second of a sister store that has been in operation for some time. Any day you go by, I’m in the area often, Tammy, an owner, is hard at it carefully snipping flowers to be used as centerpieces. Trabella is quite elegant but not pretentious. It’s touches like this that separate them from those pesky chains. The pizzas are amazing with toppings that will surprise. Everything is prepared with care.
Just inside there is an eclectic store aptly named Trending concept store, with many tactile items that would look good in any home. Cynthia is always there to greet you with a wonderful smile. She, like many on this street, owners and staff alike, has a story worth telling. People, the glue responsible for making this a special neighborhood.
Enough of the food for a bit, although it has been a problem for me so far. The exchange rate is crazy-making it almost silly for me not to eat out. I’ve, admirably, risen to the challenge. I won’t say it’s cheap as the quality and presentation is everything but. The same can be said for most of the places here, attention to detail and a slight touch of class go a long way in my book.
Further down, a group of vendors has displayed their wares out on the sidewalk. Venturing inside a nondescript building I’m met, first by what else, a coffee shop on one side, a pile of books in front, and an artisan store on the other. I like books but nothing like Mark whose booth, down one of the aisles, is all but impossible to navigate given the volume (yeah I know) of books piled floor to ceiling that he has, and will forevermore, accumulate.
Find one you want and you may witness a tear spill down his cheek as he ever so reluctantly hands it over seeking assurances that it will be treated with the utmost reverence and care in its new home. I’ve, unwittingly, induced a few such tears.
There are many other brim-full booths in this ‘The Old Lake Market’. Formerly, well quite a ways back, a movie theater it now houses a clock/watch repair, a seamstress, furniture, and, should you be on the lookout for crafty items you’ll likely find them here. Pay close attention or you might well miss the entrance.
Across the street, is the Parkview Library. It’s quaint. I’ve heard there are plans to redo it into something more befitting of the neighborhood. Well yes, it could use an upgrade. Would be nice to see what it’ll be like once done. In the interim, I’ve spent time there reading a few of the local authors’ works interrupted on occasion by the cutest, uniform-clad, small children singing their hearts out. Beats reading every time.
I often see them making their way to the library all in a bunch. It’s great to see them so engaged while being read to by their teachers or the librarians. The need to inform, to educate is so vital.
I’ve bought the most delectable Gorgonzola cheese, I just love smelly cheese, from a guy who’s got his table set up outside on the curb. Just his table and his cheeses, that’s it. Oddly enough a new police chief in the area has decided to check permits, taking everyone by surprise as it hadn’t been an issue before. Smacks of too many westerns — there’s a new sheriff in town.
While it appears it shouldn’t be too much of a problem to apply for and get one, it would seem they have a lot better things to do than insist on all the vendors removing all their stuff from the sidewalk, with the threat of forceful removal, until said permit is obtained. What, no grace period? These stores have been through hell with Covid and the all too ludicrous “Load Shedding’ a euphemism for mandatory power outages, only to be greeted by the new law enforcement boss whose salary they likely contribute to, adding to their already long list of burdens.
There is also an amazing grocery market, it’s big, offering row upon row of fresh fruit and vegetables at competitive prices. The one chain store, a Spar market, is apparently also owned by these same guys, guys who are there every day, who know many of their customers by name.
One restaurant I want to mention, there are others I’ve missed like the Indian one behind Trabella and the Blind Tiger which I plan to visit, is called The Bespokery. The word bespoke is one I’ve come to despise. It should have remained in the century from whence it came. For this reason alone I haven’t gone and tried it.
Unfortunately, it seems it’s not just me who isn’t stopping in. Most times I go by no one is there. The decor etc. all look nice yet they cannot attract any customers. There must be a reason for this as it just doesn’t fit with the bustle of activity found everywhere else.
Tyrone Avenue is a small street with limited access and parking. It’s a neighborhood street, quaint and friendly doing its thing while serving its community. Unemployment, however, has spurned a visible ‘underground economy’ made up of those merely trying to get by. There are many available to guide you, whether requested or not, into an open parking space. Some touting brooms, doing whatever they can to make a few bucks.
There are, while attractive, mass-produced artworks placed out on display. All these are found in similar pockets around the city. How the police handle these enterprises I do not know, and what the government is doing about it, is even a bigger mystery.
The irony, I’m now sitting at a coffee shop in a mall finishing this story. I felt I needed to be removed in order to visualize the area from a distance. The coffee here sucks. Karma? I’ll be back on Tyrone Avenue tomorrow.
