Johannesburg is ugly. I’m obsessed.

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 as creatives. But once you start paying close attention, you notice the city is anything but pretty.

Shortly before we arrived here, The Wall Street Journal ran a piece in October 2025 titled “Welcome to Johannesburg. This Is What It Looks Like When a City Gives Up.” The photographs which accompanied the article included giant potholes, collapsed traffic lights and jobless men directing traffic in exchange for tips (which frequently happens when the traffic lights stop working). These images highlight the dysfunction and strain that is clearly visible in Joburg. And sure — if your definition of a successful city is one that prioritises polish over pulse, it would be easy reach the conclusion that Joburg is in decline.

Johannesburg was never built to be pretty. It was established in 1886 following the discovery of gold on what was once farmland. Like other 19th-century mining towns, Johannesburg was a rough and disorganised place that expanded aggressively. Its industrial mining legacy is stamped into its rigid grid layout and functional architecture. It is a city designed for work, not wonder. Today, maybe what reads as decay to an outsider is, in part, the messiness of transition. A place with a complicated history that is still negotiating its identity and expanding in ways that aren't tidy. Johannesburg is progressing. And, inconveniently, progress is rarely photogenic. Calling it a city that "gave up" feels a little like walking into a construction site and complaining about the dust. Joburg hasn't given up, its just not posing.

There is almost something admirable about that level of indifference. This attitude permeates through to Joburg's citizens, who are wearied by the constant comparison of their city to Cape Town, which of course has obvious beauty, but the City of Gold is vibrant, beautifully diverse and alive with culture, art and opportunity. The Jozis I've met are aware of the challenges the city faces, but they are proud to live here and are undeterred by judgement from tourists.

I'll be the first to admit that I am as shallow as a puddle and have been one of those judgemental tourists. I miss old European cities where the architecture has long settled into itself and now exist as living museums of their own history. I miss facades that have survived centuries. I miss balconies with wrought iron drama. I miss places that were designed before urgency replaced ornament. Johannesburg does not offer that. Instead, it offers practicality and the architectural equivalent of "we'll fix it later" - and then never quite getting around to it.

And yet, for all my longing for old world charm, I am strangely drawn to this city's refusal to perform. I love the grit. I love that Joburg doesn't smooth itself out for approval. And perhaps the most telling thing about Joburg: I still haven't met a single other tourist. Unlike Cape Town, it would be hard to come by a wide eyed backpacker with a Lonely Planet guide or a digital nomad escaping the Northern Hemisphere winter. No one is in Joburg to escape someplace else because it looked nice on Pinterest. Instead people are here on purpose because they're building something, or chasing something or starting over. Joburg runs on hustle - sometimes out of necessity, sometimes out of ambition, often out on both. And that energy makes Joburg feel alive.

So yes, Johannesburg is ugly. But its got personality, an edge, and most importantly, people that will refuse to let it flatline. And honestly? I think that's more interesting than pretty.

Notes from 26° South.