Articles in Social Media Plus
Documentary filmmaker Petra Epperlein’s Karl Marx City is a personal journey that takes her back to the East Germany of her childhood.
German films including Karl Marx City and Goodbye Berlin, women in film, German directors and a masterclass by German film industry professionals are on the program at #DIFF2017, the 38th edition of South Africa’s prestigious Durban International Film Festival (DIFF) where the theme is Transit Tales and a major support focus is developing the South African film industry and fostering talent.
Traveling to island nuptials by train is fine. Not missing the ferry and the whole blissed out event is even …
South African Tourism launches ‘I Do Tourism’—a new responsible tourism initiative—at Indaba 2017 in Durban. The strategy is geared to showing South Africans the relevance of tourism in the greater scheme of things. How ‘everybody’ benefits from tourism.
David Qadasi Jenkins and Maqhinga Radebe perform their traditional Maskandi at St Clements in Durban.
The fourth European Film Festival (2017 edition) for South Africa will screen at Cinema Nouveau in Durban, Cape Town, Pretoria and Johannesburg beween May 5 and May 14. The films include award-winning entries from 12 countries: Austria, Belgium, Poland, Spain, Portugal, Germany, the United Kingdom, France, Italy, Netherlands, and Ireland and Croatia for the first time.
At the risk of inserting a spoiler at this point, my yoga friend’s Berlin Welcome Card didn’t serve as a lifeline when she was robbed — of her passport, credit cards, debit card and entire stash of cash — the first time she used it. Embarrassing as it is to admit, it was ‘streetwise’ and travel-wise me who fell prey to pickpockets. On the ‘up’ side, getting back on track was not the train-smash I imagined it might be.
I sign up for the free two-and-a-half hour Doha bus tour; the 4pm run. The 100-year-old market is the highlight. The women encouraging us to try spoons of their brayani and other cooked food offerings — in heat that could probably melt my Crocs if I left them out for half an hour. Offering me tissues to dab at my face. Alarmed that I am sweating because they don’t seem to.
The text messages about the bomb blasts come after I conclude that this dry whiter-than-white unbuttered bread with a couple of withered brown tears of lettuce and about eight minute slices of what I presume is chicken and a dry small roll and a wizened small citrus fruit of indistinguishable nature must be the worst brekker ever served in food-loving Thailand. Thanks Nai Yang Beach Resort.
“Mam” comes out and we chat. I ask her why she’s so busy when the others are empty. “I’ve been here a long time,” she says. She’s refined. Warm. Probably 50. I tell her I want a good strong Thai massage and had a bad one yesterday. She goes inside. Chats to someone. Comes back out…