It's a Mall World After All

When I first learned that I would be transferred to South Africa, I really only had a vague idea of what to expect, most of which was informed by multiple viewings of District 9, and although I do not doubt the authenticity of its depictions of Johannesburg and its residents, I also wanted to get a second opinion.

So I spoke to one of my coworkers who had been to South Africa before.  The first thing she said was, “South Africans love their malls.”

I nodded.  I’m a Californian, born and bred.  We love our malls, too.

“No, no.  You don’t understand.  South Africans love their malls.  There were three malls – not strip malls, but indoor malls, with escalators and everything – within five minutes of my flat.”

I brushed this aside, thinking she clearly did not understand that Californians could not be beaten in their zeal for the softly lit, cavernous expanses of chain stores sitting comfortably amidst enough parking to accommodate the entire driving population of Lesotho populating our suburbs.

I was sorely mistaken.

Nothing says "Africa" like some Italianate mall architecture, right?

Because it turns out there may not be a nation of people on god’s green earth who so dearly love indoor shopping as South Africans.  In fact, the largest mall in Africa is only ten minutes from my flat (don’t ask me how many kilometers, because I really don’t care).  I stopped by, hoping to peruse it for 15 minutes.  And two hours later, like the sole survivor of an expedition lost in the middle of the Sahara, I stumbled back to the exit that had eluded me for so long, and, lo! there was my beautiful, silver Kia Cerato.  No one has ever been so excited to see a Kia Cerato, I can assure you.

Just down the street from my flat is another shopping mall.  It would be within walking distance if anyone walked here.  And it is something out of the future.

Because there is no way that physics would allow this warehouse, probably the size of a typical suburban Barnes & Noble, to hold everything they have stuffed inside here: two stories of wine shops, bookstores, half a dozen table service restaurants, a pet store, travel agencies, even a real, California-sized grocery store (the appropriately named “Pick n’ Pay”).  There may be wormholes or black holes – some kind of hole, certainly – involved.  Maybe this is where we used the technology we gained from District 9.  But I guarantee you, there are secrets to the universe waiting to be discovered here, possibly in the frozen dinner aisle.

And they have free parking for the first hour, so there’s that, too.