I am strange. People keep telling me this and I have grown accustomed to it. One of the ways in which this strangeness manifests itself is my aversion to shopping. Yes, you read correctly - I despise shopping. I am in my twenties, I am a girl and the mere idea of going on a shopping spree sets my teeth on edge.

Shopping in Cape Town is a near Olympic sport. Women (and men) from all walks of life participate gleefully in this intricate leisure pursuit, the smell of burning plastic lingering in their wake. They frighten me, these athletes of accumulation. Fluorescent lighting seems to have no effect on them. Neither do queues, screaming children or overbearing shop assistants. They are single-minded in their pursuit and nothing gets in their way. Me? I am both impatient and chronically indecisive. Commission-based shop assistants smell me and my gullibility a mile away and fluorescent lighting makes me feel like a deer in the headlights. Not a good combination, I’ll tell you that much.

In order to overcome this crippling dislike of shopping I employ lists. I plan a shopping trip in the same way the military plans hostile takeovers – carefully and with obsessive precision. I know beforehand what I need to get, where I will be getting it and how long it will take me to get it. Timing, of course, is crucial. Go to the shops when it is too busy and the schedule will be compromised, go when it is too quiet and chances are you’ll get ambushed by bored shopping assistants. Neither is conducive to a successful shop and therefore it is necessary to establish the Golden Mean (i.e. the perfect time) for each of the shops you plan to visit and then calculate these into the over-all time schedule. Quite stressful and time consuming really.

Food shopping on the other hand, now there’s something I enjoy. Open-air markets are an especial favourite. The bustle of stall owners, the smells of fresh produce, the vibrant colours of the wares on display – what’s not to like? There’s nothing like the simple pleasure of weighing a fragrant tomato or aubergine in my hand to put me right at ease.

There is a fresh food market in Stellenbosch that I used to frequent. My boyfriend and I would go on Saturdays and leisurely cruise the stalls. Around lunchtime we would buy freshly baked ciabatta’s, cheese, cured ham and a bottle of vino and settle down at one of the trestle tables with our spoils. We would assemble our sandwiches and eat them in relative silence as we watched the market crowd go by. Women with strollers, fathers with kiddies on their shoulders, old couples and young people all enjoying the bounty and buzz of the market. Some Saturdays two young guys would settle by the central fountain and play tinkling flamenco tunes of their beat-up guitars…Utter bliss.

So, I guess I have to contend with the fact that I will never be any good at shopping for clothes and things and that I will always be wearing shoes that should in all rights have been thrown out weeks ago. But, if you ever need someone to accompany you on a gastronomic excursion, remember – I’m your girl.