Model Living All Locked Up

My trip here in Cape Town has quickly almost come to an end. The season has flown. Even with the speed of time, my time here has brought several peaks and valleys in terms of model work and accommodations.

I came, once again, excited and hopeful for work and to shoot new images to build my book. The first month, I lived in an Airbnb and it was absolute magic! Located in a little “suburb” of town called Gardens. It was quiet and absolutely beautiful. Streets lined with tall, boisterous trees. Little apartments and houses lined closely together and painted bright vibrant colors of greens, yellows, and blues. The apartment I stayed in was a little sancturary of coziness and warmth. A safe place.

The end of the booking came sooner than expected and I was out a place to live. Model housing was full so I opted to say with a special friend for a bit. 2 weeks into staying there, it was decided that it was too soon to cohabitant together and we both really valued our own space. I then moved to a friends house planning to stay until Saturday, where I would again, relocate. Things did not go so well at the friends and 2 hours later I was flustered, emotionally flooded and drained so I checked myself into a hotel to rejuvenate. How on earth did I get to this space of confusion and internal blurriness? I was thankful for listening to my gut and knowing that I just needed a space to think and plan as to where to go next!

It didn’t take long to find another Airbnb back in the Gardens area. It was the only one available in the entire city of Cape Town for the nights I needed and the price I was looking at. Saturday came quickly and I moved again- hopefully for the last time to a model house in Green Point which is located near the ocean. I love this side of town and the location couldn’t have been better. I felt grateful to finally land somewhere. That Sunday I felt an elixir  of happiness and feeling content at just finding a temporary “home”. The model house would end up feeling like anything but home…

The home itself was large and quite spacious with a grand room in the front with really high ceilings. Quite barren and not decorated. A single kitchen table with some chairs occupied the middle of the room. Scattered on it where half drank water bottles, a shirt here, and a bowl of some sort of food there. There was a bag of rotten bananas on the little table sitting in front of the multicolored dirty couch. A single sheet and half hung sun shade attempted to shield the hot summer sun from penetrating in.

My room was quite spacey and barren. Alas, a space to put my stuff. For the first few days I didn’t unpack my suit case. I couldn’t. I had to let the place marinate and settle before I could spend time rooting in again. I bought a little lock for my door for when I was away and to lock from the inside when I slept at night. Who knew who was coming in and out of this place?

The kitchen was the squirrelest of spots. Dishes pilled high in the double sink, crumbs scattered all over the counters and old grapes sitting in a few different bowls. 10 or so Nats flew around the full trash can. At this point I wasn’t even sure of who or how many people lived in the house.

The bathroom was, well, a room with a toilet and then a separate room with a shower. The toilet room would remain toilet paperless until the end of my stay. It ended up that 4 people were living here, 2 girls and 2 guys. For the two weeks of my stay, two people moved out and two more came for just a weekend. I then had to move my stuff again to a new room to allow the strangers to take my room.

I was grateful that I would be going home in a few days and not have to experience the upset and slight trauma that comes with people moving in and out of a sacred space. I generally consider myself an open person and like to meet new people. However when it comes to living quarters, it can be extremely challenging to have bodies swapping every week or so. Don’t get me started on how important cleanliness is to me.. because this place didn’t cut it.

All in all this story was written and posted to share a little fun glimpse into this side of my trip. At the end of the day everything would always work out and I learned to be a bit more patient and free…. just a bit.. 🙂




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