The Final Destination

We reached the top of Caledon Street, turned the corner into Courtenay Street, and then were faced with a dilemma:

Go down York Street on the right

or down the left:

All South Africans will know...

So we decided very bravely that we would resist.

And headed down on the right hand side.

The Greek restaurant is no more

Surprised a few guys

Won't go in there, Mark!

And when we thought we were well out of smelling sight, if you can call it that, of the TEMPTATION, we crossed over to the other side:

By now the pull was getting unbearable, and we were also curious to check out the renovations of the Publicity Association Building, moving a bit closer again to where we started in York Street.

The Slave Tree, with the chains imbedded in the trunk.

A last desperate attempt landed us at La Locanda, but one look at the menu with the worst English I have seen in recent history, made us change our minds.  We did stop a while for Mandy to have a ciggie break, use their facilities, take a quick photo, and remind ourselves that Olga and Phia had raved about the food.

Alas! by now the overwhelming salivatory,  smoky, and utterly delicious smell of a grilled Spur Burger had finally taken hold of my senses.   We walked up the wooden stairs to the balcony and sighed with satisfaction.

 

Our cups had runneth over.