It’s funny the things one can grow so accustomed to that when they disappear from one’s life, even if somewhat unpleasant, that void is felt very fully. I felt just such a void as my bus travelled into South Africa and I realized I had truly left the third world of my past four months experience several 1000 km behind. Botswana is remarkably successfully, but with such a huge country and a relatively tiny population (8 million—the number of inhabitants in NYC alone!), Gaborone is somewhat of a makeshift capital and felt more first world than not but also quite empty. Not to mention I was being pampered by Kim and Luke and didn’t have to find my way around in any kind of matatu. But the bus park was still quite chaotic, and thus I still felt “at home” there! Ha. But upon my arrival in Johannesburg, which I had done my best to avoid going to (not possible, all buses run through Jo'burg—I did thorough research with Kim’s aid driving around and talking to everyone in the bus park), I saw it as a huge functioning city. Not pretty, mind you, but it had a cohesiveness that I didn’t feel in Kampala often or Dar for example.
I can’t really explain it well unfortunately, but it was just a gut feeling that I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. The best illustration of this gut feeling was a conversation I had on bus #2 of the day which I boarded around 4pm due to arrive in Cape Town the following morning (this after a 6:30 departure that morning from Gabs!). An Afrikaans woman was sitting behind me and a black South African business man to my right as we sped along in our double-decker luxury bus. I can’t remember how the conversation was started, but the woman got to asking me where I was going and thus where I was coming from. I explained my overland travels down from Tanzania, and expressed how nice our current bus was compared with the buses I’d rode up north. “Really?!” she asked surprised. Oh my goodness yes I tried to explain—there are usually chickens all over the bus—up in the luggage rack, under the seats. Both the woman and the business man found this absurd and hysterical, and I silly me, had a pang of nostalgia! Too funny.
I can’t really explain it well unfortunately, but it was just a gut feeling that I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. The best illustration of this gut feeling was a conversation I had on bus #2 of the day which I boarded around 4pm due to arrive in Cape Town the following morning (this after a 6:30 departure that morning from Gabs!). An Afrikaans woman was sitting behind me and a black South African business man to my right as we sped along in our double-decker luxury bus. I can’t remember how the conversation was started, but the woman got to asking me where I was going and thus where I was coming from. I explained my overland travels down from Tanzania, and expressed how nice our current bus was compared with the buses I’d rode up north. “Really?!” she asked surprised. Oh my goodness yes I tried to explain—there are usually chickens all over the bus—up in the luggage rack, under the seats. Both the woman and the business man found this absurd and hysterical, and I silly me, had a pang of nostalgia! Too funny.
As I’ve said before, my bus riding skills have really improved and I passed the next 20 hours looking out the window at the beautiful fields, then sleeping stretched out across the isle for nine hours of sleep on my hard as a rock backpack (laptop within) that I awoke from several times with panic as to where my backpack was, until I realized it was the very uncomfortable lump under my head and went back to sleep! In the early morning the scenery became breath taking mountains and then merged into the wine country for which the Cape Town region is so famous. I actually don’t really like when the bus is pulling into it’s final destination because then it means I have to figure out what I’m going to do next, which in my case involved collecting my bags (still there, yay!), avoiding taxi hawkers, and walking too many kilometers to check out one backpackers hostel, although I did get to stroll through some lovely city gardens, albeit with my enormous backpack on! Always, the comparison shopper, I set out from hostel number one to check out the hostels on Long Street—the lively, young area in the heart of the city. But the day was getting on, so I decided to stick with my original choice, despite the 10rand price difference (about $1.50) and do an actual activity.
The woman at the backpackers place suggested Table Mountain, the looming backdrop of the city, because it was subject to close often at short notice for high winds, and had been shut for the past few days. So I collected my cameras and high-tailed it in a rikki (a slightly unreliable taxi resembling a London black cab) and bought my cableway ticket up the mountain, only for one way as I was hoping to hike down. The cable ride is in a revolving car (in theory so everyone gets a view, although being human everyone rushes to the view with the sea stretching out below, cameras poised). When we arrived at the top, I walked out onto the first path of the Table Mt National Park and took in the scenery—low shrubbery and bright flora scattered all over the rocky top stre
wn with large boulders, with sweeping views on all sides over the deep blue and turquoise waters, craggy mountains, and city buildings and houses strewn across the lower hills of Lion’s Head and Lion’s Rump, two mountains in the heart of Cape Town. I then proceeded to wander the top of the mountain from 3pm until 6pm. I asked about hiking down (in my flip flops no less) and got many a strange look, so instead, I decided to go have a beer, a Foundry cider, at the restaurant terrace that looked south towards Cape Point, and wait for the sunset—I mean, what else did I have to do?? I was feeling a bit lonely and down: here I had just come from the comfortable surroundings of my friend’s home and company in Gaborone and had a week to wander Cape Town by myself. I know, I know, everyone sitting at their cubicle or desk is thinking, aw, poor baby, tough life. But in those moments, alone with a new unknown city, everything feelings 9 parts daunting, one part exciting.
The woman at the backpackers place suggested Table Mountain, the looming backdrop of the city, because it was subject to close often at short notice for high winds, and had been shut for the past few days. So I collected my cameras and high-tailed it in a rikki (a slightly unreliable taxi resembling a London black cab) and bought my cableway ticket up the mountain, only for one way as I was hoping to hike down. The cable ride is in a revolving car (in theory so everyone gets a view, although being human everyone rushes to the view with the sea stretching out below, cameras poised). When we arrived at the top, I walked out onto the first path of the Table Mt National Park and took in the scenery—low shrubbery and bright flora scattered all over the rocky top stre
wn with large boulders, with sweeping views on all sides over the deep blue and turquoise waters, craggy mountains, and city buildings and houses strewn across the lower hills of Lion’s Head and Lion’s Rump, two mountains in the heart of Cape Town. I then proceeded to wander the top of the mountain from 3pm until 6pm. I asked about hiking down (in my flip flops no less) and got many a strange look, so instead, I decided to go have a beer, a Foundry cider, at the restaurant terrace that looked south towards Cape Point, and wait for the sunset—I mean, what else did I have to do?? I was feeling a bit lonely and down: here I had just come from the comfortable surroundings of my friend’s home and company in Gaborone and had a week to wander Cape Town by myself. I know, I know, everyone sitting at their cubicle or desk is thinking, aw, poor baby, tough life. But in those moments, alone with a new unknown city, everything feelings 9 parts daunting, one part exciting.But that’s often when luck strikes, when you’re feeling most down—a silver-lining shall I say? ;) As I was sitting drinking my beer, trying to give myself an internal pep talk about how lovely the view was, how lucky I was to be doing this, blah blah blah, two girls came and sat at the picnic table next to me. They were obviously celebrating something and scarfing a big boer roll (traditional Dutch sausage roll) and toasting with champagne. The main cable station kept making these irritating announcements: “Ding dang dong, the sunset will be at 7 minutes to 8!” every five minutes, and talking about some sunset special. I turned to the girls bewildered after one announcement and asked, “What’s the sunset special?” And with that simple question, we got to talking, Alika and Talita introduced themselves. Alika who’s 18, grew up in Cape Town and was leaving in two weeks to begin job training in the UK, had met Talita who’s 27 and from Jo’burg on a catamaran cruise in Cape Town Bay in December. Talita is in Cape Town for treatment for stomach and esophagus cancer, and had just had a chemo appointment that morning, and so Alika was taking her out for a fun afternoon to brighten her day. That in and of itself was a pretty inspiring reminder of one of those “I’m so lucky” moments. But then came the really incredible stroke of good luck: they asked what I was doing after this. Um, nothing! Going back to the backpackers place somehow. No, I must join them for drinks, or dinner, or at the very least they would give me a ride back in Talita’s rental car, and actually I should just stay at the apartment Talita was renting—business class to my economy class hostel! 
We ended up heading back to my backpacker place to get some of my stuff, and after going out for a couple drinks on Long Street, heading back to her apartment which is in the Camp’s Bay section of Cape Town, almost on the beach. She was right: definitely business class—a gorgeous 3 bedroom apartment with a huge terrace overlooking the beach and the Twelve Apostles mountain range in the background, truly stu
nning. We had some red wine from Stellenboch (local wine country) out on the terrace, and then I happily crashed in the guest bedroom, grateful mostly to just not be sleeping on a bus!
We ended up heading back to my backpacker place to get some of my stuff, and after going out for a couple drinks on Long Street, heading back to her apartment which is in the Camp’s Bay section of Cape Town, almost on the beach. She was right: definitely business class—a gorgeous 3 bedroom apartment with a huge terrace overlooking the beach and the Twelve Apostles mountain range in the background, truly stu
nning. We had some red wine from Stellenboch (local wine country) out on the terrace, and then I happily crashed in the guest bedroom, grateful mostly to just not be sleeping on a bus!The next day, I checked out of my backpackers hostel (I was to stay with Talita instead of staying at a silly hostel), Alika made us breakfast 
at her dad’s apartment (another lovely ocean view perched on a steep hill—very San Fran like!), and we headed off in the rental car for a tour of Cape Point. We stopped in Fishenhoek for soft serve ice cream cones and some beach time—i.e. a dip in the freezing cold waters (much warmer than on the western side of the cape I was informed by the locals!)—before heading off on a drive along Chapman’s Peak down towards Cape Point. We stopped in Boulders Bay to see the most adorable penguins (once known as Jackass penguins, poor guys). We avoided going into the paying section of the park (thanks to my brother for the good advice), and instead got to clamber over the boulders at the sea’s edge as the penguins waddled around us, leaned in and even tried to nip us with their beaks. I took far too many pictures, but here’s just a sampling!
at her dad’s apartment (another lovely ocean view perched on a steep hill—very San Fran like!), and we headed off in the rental car for a tour of Cape Point. We stopped in Fishenhoek for soft serve ice cream cones and some beach time—i.e. a dip in the freezing cold waters (much warmer than on the western side of the cape I was informed by the locals!)—before heading off on a drive along Chapman’s Peak down towards Cape Point. We stopped in Boulders Bay to see the most adorable penguins (once known as Jackass penguins, poor guys). We avoided going into the paying section of the park (thanks to my brother for the good advice), and instead got to clamber over the boulders at the sea’s edge as the penguins waddled around us, leaned in and even tried to nip us with their beaks. I took far too many pictures, but here’s just a sampling!Then it was off to Houts Bay to wander the harbor, watch the seals play in the water near the boats, and then indulge in fresh fish and chips of the Snoek and Hake varieties. We ate the crispy fish and chips, wrapped in paper, dosed in vinegar, ketchup, tarter sauce with our finger—simply delicious! We drove back for more stellar views along Chapman’s Peak (Talita is a fearless driver!) and back to her place to meet up with Alika’s dad and friend Shaianne to go out for drinks along Camp’s Bay—very reminiscent of the scene at Miami Beach actually with small trendy cafes spilling onto the sidewalk, and big beautiful palm trees lining the beach across the street. So I must say my first two days in Cape Town have been quite magnificent and filled with good fortune. It’s just so refreshing to meet such fun and generous people halfway around the world from where you live. Not sure what’s on for today yet, but I’m heading to the beach for now!
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