The Southernmost Point

I was a bit taken aback when a black maid entered from the kitchen to serve us our breakfast.

“Gina, we ARE in Africa,” Gene reminded me, once we were again alone at the table.

“I know, but…” was all I could say. It just seemed a bit too old school for today’s World. I would later come to learn that it is still quite common in South Africa for black women to serve as maids inside the home. While I was aware that the majority of the South African population is unsurprisingly black, this still somehow managed to come as a shock to me.

We spent the majority of our morning at the salon - Gene getting rid of his disheveled rocker hair and I making a transformation into Raggedy Ann. Feeling like we once again blended in with the general populace, we headed back to the hotel for the brutally honest opinions of gay men. After a couple of turns and flips of the hair, I was assured that I looked absolutely fab.

We spent the remainder of the day driving the coast and stopping to visit the Cape of Good Hope, the southernmost tip of Africa, and Cape Point. Gene and I carefully observed the bolded warnings inside our brochure and the innumerous signs posted throughout the area, cautioning tourists of the dangerous propensities of wild baboons. However, it came as no surprise as one stupid Japanese tourist chased a fleeing female baboon and her clinging baby throughout the parking lot, carrying a toddler on his hip. As Gene pointed out yet another example of Social Darwinism (Survival of the Fittest), I imagined the stories that would be generated by the media - “Defenseless Man and Child Shockingly Maimed by Vicious Baboons at Cape of Good Hope.” In my opinion, some people just ask for it.

After stopping at Palona for a jam-jar girly cocktail, Gene and I headed toward our hotel for dinner. I grew a tad uneasy when we parked down the block from the restaurant (recommended by Lonely Planet) and were greeted by a city worker who requested a tip to watch over our car. Afraid that denying the man a tip would result in a phone call to his neighboring car thieves, we reluctantly accepted and continued into the restaurant.

Having arrived a few minutes early, Gene and I took a seat up at the bar next to two young girls who introduced themselves as fellow Americans. However, their visit to South Africa suited a different purpose - both women had left their jobs at home to devote three months of their lives to better causes. One woman was a volunteer teacher at an underprivileged school while the other aided in opening South Africa’s first HIV clinic for women and children.

Having previously felt like our own travels were quite the accomplishment, Gene and I pondered just how self-rewarding such an experience would be.

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