The bohemian suburb of Melville celebrates its 120th anniversary this year and even after all this time, I’ve discovered that it remains just as charming.
I can’t remember the first time I went to Melville. I just know I’ve always loved it.
I was in my early twenties, studying, discovering, exploring… young and carefree. I learned about what life was like after the sun had set, I learned to talk about poetry and art, of the raptures of happy hour (which went hand-in-hand with building solid relationships with the cab driver; Thabane was good to us), I learned about feminism, to communicate with boys that no longer wore school uniform, and to dance like no one’s watching. It was there that I began to pull back the veil of sheltered youth. Life unfolded here.
About a decade later, I’m still enamoured and I recently returned to the ‘hippie village’ to get reacquainted – this time, to write a story for the April 2016 issue of Getaway. Here is what I experienced in pictures.
Follow my adventures and things on Instagram and Twitter.
Long Live Melville, man.
Read the full story in the April 2016 issue of Getaway magazine.
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