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I’ve been living in Joburg for 6 weeks now and I realise that I haven’t taken many photos of the city. As someone who likes to capture and share the most insignificant details of my life on social media, this probably feels almost suspicious to my small Instagram following. But the reason is simple: Joburg is not photogenic. Yes, there are some exceptions - the tree-lined streets that explode with green and the carefully curated cool of 44 Stanley where we can briefly cosplay

I've spent the majority of the past week in Johannesburg in bed with a tooth infection and a low mood. Trying to workout whether I'm depressed or just decompressing. I realised that in London, feeling like your deteriorating from some kind of Victorian wasting disease often came with severe bouts of FOMO. Here, there is nowhere to rush to - the city continues to hum outside while I'm horizontal and unsure of whether I'm healing or in decline. The irony is that I've been sayin

Everyone seems to have an opinion about going out at night in Joburg, and they all involve a warning. Don't do this, don't go there, don't stay too late. I'm usually a stickler for the rules but let me tell you emigrating is not for faint hearted and I needed to blow off some steam. As I'm writing this, its Monday evening and I've just about recovered from a weekend that was that can only be described as a two day bender. Before I arrived here, I assumed that I'd be obligated

And by that I mean - I assumed moving countries would come with more sense of momentum. New routines, immediate stories, a bit of a narrative reshape. Instead it's been quiet mornings, daily rituals of going to familiar coffee shops and supermarkets and a lot of time that doesn't seem to be rushing anywhere. Not a bad time, just uneventful and the kind of days that don't Instagram well. This is probably more noticeable because last week I was in the French Alps (I appreciate

House hunting in Johannesburg has been my first real lesson in how this city works and I've realised pretty quickly that I was applying London logic to a city that has absolutely no interest in it. I was seeking a centre, walkable overlap, for neighbourhoods that blend into each other. Johannesburg, it turns out, does not work like that at all. Joburg isn't one place so much as a collection of self-contained bubbles, each with its own rhythm, rules and reputation. Once I let

I really wanted my first ever post to be a positive "new year, new me" about all the things I fell in love with about my new home the first week I arrived. However, at the time of writing this I am fuming because the universe had other ideas and my suitcase didn't make it with me. I've already told every man and his dog what happened. But one thing to know about me is how much I love to beat a dead horse so here's the story again: Al and I had two checked in five suitcases in