Johannesburg is not a city you visit. It is a city that visits you, usually at six in the morning, with a taxi horn and the smell of diesel and something frying on a corner.

Maboneng, mid-week

The galleries open late. The coffee is good. The street is louder than the music. Everyone is from somewhere — Lubumbashi, Bulawayo, Maputo, Durban — and nobody asks you where you're really from, which is the kindest thing a city can do.

A city built on gold has no choice but to learn how to share.

Three rules I picked up

• Walk with intent. Not because of danger — because the city respects motion.
• Eat where the queue is long. Always.
• Tip the car guard. They are the unofficial mayor of every block.

I left after a week. The city stayed with me longer than that.