a glass of wine before an early night

If you have read bits and pieces of this blog, you know that I'm Thomas. But I'm not really Thomas. I have to admit I like being anonymous. The French guys who are currently staying in the guest house know my real first name - I can't always think to tell my interlocutors I'm someone else. They wanted to have a bit of a chat with me. They didn't notice that, as I was cooking my dinner, I might have wanted to stay by myself. But never mind. Since I'm polite, I said hi and asked them questions about their day. They asked about mine. And while I was starting to eat my pasta, standing in front of them - the four of them -, one almost had his face on my plate. - You want some? I asked. He reacted by suggesting we'd have a bottle of wine. - Oh, you have some manners, I said.
The one with whom I'm sharing the bathroom looked at the notebook where everyone keeps a record of his drinks: - Thomas... who's Thomas? We missed that one...

I’m Thomas but I decided to keep it for myself.

a beer and a whale

Coffee on the Rocks, Gansbaai ; tel : 028 3842017, fully licences bistro, open today 10:00 – 17:00 (picture © Thomas Mars)

For the French version, click here

The view is absolutely breathtaking. I’m having lunch overlooking a preserved bay where whales* and dolphins come all year around. I didn’t see any today but the view is good enough for me. Even though we’re in autumn here (remember we’re on the South-Hemisphere here) it’s 33° in the shade. The car is parked just a few meters away. A car I shouldn’t drive, by the way. Because, if you remember what I wrote earlier on, I “lost” my driving license. In a way, yes, I’m a criminal. Firstly because I’m driving around without any license, secondly because I drank 2 beers – drink or drive…
Each time I took the car, I had to tell myself: drive on the left hand side, left hand side! … Oh, here they come: there are seals!!! Kids run down the coffee shop to stand on top of the rocks and see the seals. Silly me! I stay here and sip my beer.
Thank you Vanessa for the company, for the spinach and feta tart and for the lovely bird that came to visit us while we talked. I’ll be back soon.


*The Southern Right Whales come to Walker Bay every year – from July to December – to mate, give birth and play until they depart to the ice cold waters off Antarctica for the rest of the year. Some of them – don’t ask me why, I’m not a specialist – stay throughout the year ; either to keep company to the dolphins or to accomplish their duty regarding local tourism.

me and Tom Hanks

Yesterday night, Gansbaai harbour
for the French version, click here

What do I have in my luggage anyway ? Bermuda shorts, a swimsuit, four pants, three white t-shirts, a blue t-shirt, a polo, two sweaters, a cap, flip-flops, my Camper shoes I had planned to get rid of in Paris, socks, toiletries, books, a camera, a laptop, my passport and a can-opener.

In my darkest and most ludicrous thoughts, I had this film on my mind: Castaway. Tom Hanks played a man who survived a plane crash and landed on a deserted island ; I remember scenes when he got injured because he couldn’t open the cans that had miraculously beached at his feet. This is what I was thinking about when I stole the can-opener in one of the seedy hotels I rented during my Parisian week, not knowing what would ever become of me, not knowing where my ravings would lead me, not knowing if, in a fit of insanity – or lucidity – I would decide to jump over a bridge and put an end to everything. As a response to my letter, C wrote something like “you could have left in a more dignified way”. I answered that my disappearance was, in a way, a failed suicidal. In the sense that I had seriously thought about killing myself but hadn’t had enough courage to do it.

In my luggage, I even have a butcher knife (8’’ blade) – Tiaan saw it and his mouth fell open. I told you (in a previous post) not to tell me it’s dangerous to go around naked. Luckily, Jonathan’s maid didn’t put her nose in my stuff, or she would have been horrified.

two guys in a cage

Sébastien who made me meet the sharks (no, it's not me on the pic, blockhead! [to answer the e-mail of a reader, I will not publish any pic of my face... not for the moment]

For the French version, click here

So… Yes, I did see the Great White Sharks. And I’m telling you, it is an amazing experience. If you had told me, let’s say… a week ago, that I’d be out on the open sea, to do cage diving, I’d had thought you were losing your mind.
Gansbaai is a unique place – a 2 hours drive from Cape Town – a fishermen’s village that has become a worldwide attraction as far as sharks and whales are concerned; a quiet town where one can relax away from the sound and fury of the city.
Last Saturday, I got a warm welcome from Sarah and Jonathan at restaurant De la Mer. I am grateful to have met them, and other lovely people too. There was this French guy who had just arrived a few hours earlier from Cape Town. He didn’t speak a word of English and had dinner by himself. Sarah felt sorry for him and tried her best to make him feel comfortable. Jonathan and Sarah asked me to talk to him and invite him to our table to share a drink.
That’s how Sébastien and I met.
He came to Gansbaai to see the Great White Sharks. Taking pictures and videos almost every day. When he asked me: do you want to come? I hesitated. But not long.
At about 6 in the morning, I was at the shark company, feeling like a kid waiting for Santa Claus to come down the chimney. But instead of having Legos, I got an opportunity to meet sharks. (Thank you Jonathan for the wonderful, toothy present).
Once you’ve put on your life jacket, you embark on the boat and say your last prayers. The rising sun spreading its flames on a calm ocean was as unforgettable as was seeing the Great Whites. We were a dozen people who had come for the thrill of being face to face with wilderness for once in our lives.
As for Sébastien, it was not once but nine times. And each time was sheer excitement, so he told me. On a trip like this, one only needs a swimsuit and one’s eyes wide open. One does not have to go into the cage as one can see the sharks from the deck, but one can’t go back home with regrets, so you might as well get into the cage. After slipping into the wetsuit and diving gear they’re handing out, you get into the water, hold on to the red bars, look carefully at the yellow thingee at the end of the rope and wait. It’s like fishing. You must be patient.
So… what do two French guys talk about in a cage while waiting for the Great Whites to come and show their huge mouths? When I helped this woman who was freezing and had water in her mask, Sébastien had this “don’t take advantage of the situation” little laugh. I said: what do you want me to do with a woman? A seagull filled the silence with its cries. Oh, he answered, is that why you got away? Oh no, everyone knows. It’s just that I felt it wasn’t my life I was living. Then the man on the boat shouted: Down! Down! Down! Here comes a big one.
It was approximately 3 meters long. It swam so close to the cage that one could not miss it. I felt absolutely mesmerized. You’ve only seen them on television and now you are in the same waters, just inches away from this fearful predator. It came right at us, showing us its serrated bladelike teeth, took the bait it was not supposed to take, and left.
Yes, I think I’ll give it another go before I go back to Cape Town.

(the shark got stuck in the rope, but don’t worry, it managed to free itself, it deserved the lunch)
thank you Sébastien for the video

dear mum, dad and sister

a flower in Gansbaai

Here's the letter I wrote a few days after I left

Dear Mum, Dad & Alice,

My disappearance happened without a warning. I left everything behind, with all the difficulties it implies (for me and for others); to be honest, I'd say that it had been there in my mind for quite some time and I didn't dare to acknowledge it. To go and leave everything behind is the hardest thing I've ever done in my entire life. To think about the suffering I would inflict upon my relatives didn't prevent me from disappearing. As for Catherine, it feels like betraying her. I'm afraid to say it'll be very hard for her to cope with it. And I don't know if I will ever be able to forgive myself for what I've done to her. Behaving like a coward is not "me"... and yet, it is a part of me I discovered. Each and every day that passes I think about Dad, Mum, Alice, my two nieces, Catherine, Louise and my friends. But today, I cannot indulge in guilt or I will collapse. Be assured that I want to live. I have this vital need to breathe pure air. To take the time to think peacefully and start a new life. Don't worry, I am fine, well... as fine as one can be in such circumstances. From the bottom of my heart, I ask you, Dad, Mum, Alice, Catherine and Louise for forgiveness.

Thomas

what about your Bic?

Some say they’re signs, some say they’re just coincidences. Anyway, the first sign I saw was when I was writing in the plane, deciding what shapes my journey could take if I wanted to keep my sanity. So I looked at the pen I had bought at Paris-Charles de Gaulle airport, an ordinary Bic. You can’t read the inscription until you look at it very carefully. I couldn’t believe my eyes. On the side of the pen, next to the blue cap, is engraved South-Africa. I hadn’t chosen it, the seller picked it aimlessly. I was in a hurry. I didn’t have a pen. I needed one.
A few days after I arrived in Mother City, I went to a store to check if my pen was the only one to have that inscription. Imagine my surprise when I found out that all the Bic Cristal Clic were “South-African”.
What about your Bic?

Can't take my eyes off you

I was brooding over another beer when they came in. A black girl and a black boy. They sat at the counter and ordered white wine. We shared a polite smile. There was something I couldn’t quite grasp. I wanted to meet them. I had to meet her. Then the music helped us. I know it’ll sound very cliché but that’s the truth. They aired the song Can’t take my eyes off you. I couldn’t help but singing the song. So did the black girl. And she smiled her warmest smile, looked at me and sang “Can’t take my eyes off you”. That’s how we met. Her name is Afriqah. His is Ellton. She left New York City some time ago. Her friends there thought she’d come back but she didn’t.
- You know what I miss most? It’s acting. Noone here knows I’m craving for it. To be honest, I don’t know many people.
Then comes the who I am and what I'm here for part. I decided to tell them all, or almost all. They couldn’t believe their ears.
- I told you he’d be interesting, said Afriqah.
- I kept telling her “go on and talk to him”, added Ellton.
- So I guess Thomas isn’t your real name, right?
- …er … er… talking about theatre, in my previous life, I used to act and direct.
- You don’t say!
They looked at each other in amazement. Afriqah gave me an inquiring look and asked:
- Do you think you could direct me?
Silence. Smiles.
- I think I can, yes. Actually, if I ever direct you, I want to do it anonymously. You see, if my project allows me to become famous – being Thomas Mars, I mean – that famous anonymous French guy who disappeared would be your director.
- Wow! she exclaimed, eyes wide open.
Another silence.
- How do you perceive me, Thomas?
- Well… I think you’re a woman who tries hard not to show how fragile she is. You have a lot to tell and the part you’re eager to play is yourself.
- Ellton!!! Did you hear what he’s just said? Thomas, you are SO right!
Taking up my glass of wine, I offer her a toast:
- Let’s help each other. I direct you and you help me with my project.
- Okay.
Afriqah turns to the waiter and says:
- Simpiwo*, mon chéri, can we have three glasses of Chardonnay, s’il te plaît?


*[sompiwea]