That Jesus guy was chill, but Jesus Christ, did he corner the market with that resurrection stuff! God needs the devil. The Beatles needed the Rolling Stones. Diane Sawyer needed Katy Couric, and the Braunfisch boys’ own resurrection is here to bring that ish to the 21st century. We’re back in an advanced country, and we’re feeling it.
To kick the day off, we flopped around in a hotel gym made for ants. Luckily, we had a breakfast buffet waiting for us downstairs that is a cardio workout to walk to the end of the options. I had sushi, eggs, sausages, and sweet, supple, unsuspecting kiwis. So so juicy.
We met up with out boy, Steven/Steve/Sleeve, and he took us around the beautiful city of Cape Town. Bouncing from the beaches to the hills, this city has it all nicely rolled into a beautiful package. We have quickly found out that this place is friendlier than a perverted gastroenterologist. People literally just say hi when walking past on the streets, and New York Christian is pissed. Leaving lunch, Josef, the street smart young scholar that he is, approached a gaggle of young African men with cameras and chains asking if they “were shooting a music video.” Surprisingly, his racially insensitive gamble paid off! We made some fast friends, and our new “boi” asked us to shoot a quick scene for his video. I started limbering up my lower back to pop in his face/get stuck in his grill, but he just started rapping. Josef, of course, had moves in abundance to toss in as this man was rapping, but Christian and I looked like kids at the dinner table with their parents fighting. If I needed some reminding, this experience displayed my white bones and dumped them in a vat of bleach.
Moving on to anthropological findings, the South African dialect is fascinating. Aside form being able to make any study abroad girl (or guy, 2017) slip out of her (or his, 2017) undergarments in record time, the dialect is an etymological wonder. It is almost as if the South Africans took English 1, 2, 4, & 5. Maybe they were too buy being hot during 10th grade English 3, I feel that. Therefore, they simply made up words that are relatively close, but still far off from the correct terms. Traffic light = Robot. Nope. Car horn = Hooter. That would make me honk more. Ketchup = tomato. That’s literally just something else. You get used to it in a weird way.
Finally, we were brought back to life by the ability to go to a real exercise class. Attending a premier institution called SWEAT 1000 in the attic of a mall, the brothers hit an hour of intense cardio and weight training. However, this wasn’t your grandma’s Richard Simmons workout. No sir. We were being yelled at by a spicy 9 World’s Strongest Man candidate in a South African accent, but he wasn’t alone. Next to him was Stove Ajoki, the African knock-off of Steve Aoki. This shaggy, malnourished guy who looked like he’s wear a Phish t-shirt was controlling psychedelic light shows, fog machines, and spinning tracks that make you question your sanity. At least Stove resetting my heart beat and circadian rhythm with his hard synth, big room, deep cuts took my mind off of the fact that I lost 2 pounds of sweat. The things we do to look this good. I hope a new heart valve is covered in our travel insurance.
With buns of steel and faster wifi,
Josef “I knock things over because my hands are too big,” Christian “can we split the $3 Uber?” & Hans “I would, but the way my bank account’s set up….” Braunfisch
Also, sorry for the lack of drone shots but the wifi is not quick enough to upload it all.