Here in the Independent (almost, but not quite) Homeland Of Zillestan we love our weather. In fact, we are obessessed with it. We analyse it from couches, exmaninign every nuance of forecasts on the Weather Channel. But Capetonian's only want to know one thing: How strong will the wind be the next day? Note, I posed this question with the assumption the wind will by default be strong or any derirvative of this. You only get two types of wind down south -wannabe-almost-but not quite-yet-still leaves-you-unbalanced strong and beatdown-brutal-don't stop until you cry strong. Bugger the news at 7, fast forward to 7:25 when the weather people, complete with carefully constructed hair, jarring American accents and shady smiles, take control. They euphemise 36 degrees in Spingbok For 5 minutes we citizens of this bold new state are their slaves, entranced by their hand movements which sweep over the country. The rest of the nation is not important to us Zille-ites at all. We only care if the sun will rise on the empire again the next day. Much like yanks many Capetonians couldn't tell you where Boshoff or Los Angeles is.
Entire weeks can be spoiled by this meterological phnomoment of satanic proportions. The Cape Doctor they call it. The only medcial practitioner I can liken the effects of ths devli wind to is Josef Mengele. Evil, cruel and gusty.

Goddamned wind! 400kms winds are the only downside of living in the capital of Zillestan, cape Town. Our obsession with the climate does partly stem from Al Gore's brilliant job of scaring the crap out of us. Climate change se moer. We have hurricanes of winds this side of the nation. winds a powerful as parliament (where intellignce goes to die and power thrives amid madness, corruption and greed). I cry a bit every time I emerge form the outdoors on a windy day in Slaapstad. I feel violated and need to be hugged. No problem there. Everyone loves to hug in this place. ray Bans, cut off jeans, styled hair and a good does of doos-ness accompanies this need to hug and be simunye with all in this gran city of wind, excess and pinkness. The Pink cash helps fuel Zillestand, don't you know? They offer incentives for gay people to settle this side. eever since Politiburo of Zumaville subconsiously started plotting the "Pink Solution" homosexuals have been seeking refuge under the mountain. And boy are we glad they chose Zillestan. Greenpoint has never been the same.

On the 4 days a year cape twon is being sodmised by the wind, we flock to the many beaches of this great capital of ours. We rush int he direction of sea salt on Vespas, in 4 x4s, Mini Coopers and skateboards hey clog up the already impossibly narrow roads tyo Clifton, Camps Bay, Llandudno, and so on. Buses of the less fortnate converge on Mnwabisi beach. This remnant of Apartheid beach segregation sees enough actiojn in a december weekend than a Seapoin brothel. Sharks, drownings, swimming in underpants, poo pullution, and dangerious deragned seagulls make it tough going for poor beachgoers. But at least the water isn't -22 degrees. Can a beach be a proper beach if you can't swim? capetonians don't care. It's really all about showing off abs and boobs. Who cares about the sea?

In Zillestan we speak differently. Not beign a lingust I can't adequately explaim in words how a capetonian accent sounds. I'll try though. Round your vowels and make generous use of words like Wow, serious and bru. Gestilculating helps as well. It's more about what capetonians choose to speak about. fashions, gym, how much money they don't have or do have. Down the drag on the N2 the sun is as bright, the wind as powerful, but the money, very rare.