Cape Town

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Yaw, eii got da blaad daiimand, brew. That's not Afrikaans. That's just what it sounds like when they speak English. In Sith Iffrika.

Cape Town...the Mother City. My flights were incredibly relaxed affairs...I can't commend Etihad highly enough for what they do. I even managed a minor miracle on my third and final flight: I had a pleasant and solid snooze for over an hour. So, it was 3 flights: A longish one from Casa to Abu Dhabi; a longer one from Abu Dhabi to Johannesburg; and a short, 2 hour hop from Jo'burg to Cape Town. When I got off the plane, I picked up my rucksack and waltzed through passport control. I met the bus guy, eventually, that my hostel had booked for me, and headed straight over. Cape Town looked very modern and attractive, though I was still wondering just how safe it would be. Upon arriving at the hostel, I was greeted by Steve and Wayne, two absolute legends. Within half an hour of arriving, I was set up in my room, had gotten my bearings from Steve and the wall map, and headed out to go netbook shopping with Wayne. Awesome. Turned out Wayne was a tech head like me, so we chatted PC's and games, while browsing for the little Samsung I type on now. As a thank you for the help, I cooked a very Irish cottage pie for Wayne, his girlfriend Sammy, and myself. Best thing about an Irish cottage pie: there is a lot left over. Steve and Bradley got in on the act, and helped us finish it. Brad owns another hostel in storms river that I will be staying at on my Garden Route tour (watch for the blog entry; I anticipate Dijembe Backpackers will be a wild one).

Later in the evening, I had a few beers in the hostel courtyard. Let me take a few minutes to describe the place: You walk in to a clean, freshly painted hostel, with dorms on either side of the front door. The dorms are spotless, and cooled by ceiling fans. There are huge lockers for everyone's gear. Ahead on the left is a large toilet/shower area, again spotless, and they even leave hand towels and soap out. Just before the wash room, there is a corridor leading to steps up; there are more rooms up here, including private rooms, but the main feature is the balcony. Table and chairs, a hammock, and an amazing view of Table mountain. Back downstairs, past the washroom, is the narrow reception room. To the right, you enter the kitchen - the fully (and I mean FULLY) equipped kitchen. Huge cooker and oven, and large guest fridge. Through this room, and you are in the lounge. Most hostel lounges are adorned with ads, posters, random items of cheap/free furniture, and generally a bit natty. This lounge was full of matching comfy chairs and couches, as well as a lot of greenery, and a satellite tv for the boring amongst us. The courtyard area is just outside the lounge; it has two picnic tables and benches, and more greenery, including some large trees. Another hammock hangs here, and it is a perfect place for a nap. So, it was this courtyard that we had the few beers in. Amber Tree Lodge, by the way. If you ever go to Cape Town, stay here. Seriously.

I was drinking with Wayne, Sammy, and Dale (owner of a net café/bar nearby), when Dale declared that we should go out. We went around the corner to a really cool spot called "The Power and the Glory", run by Marlon. A few local brews after, I stumbled home and collapsed to sleep. In the morning, I felt surprisingly well, and went for a walk in the stifling heat. Over 30 degrees, which to me is a lot. Sunscreened up big style. So, did I have to walk surrepticiously, looking around every corner before walking, in case of muggers/rapists? Hells no. Cape Town centre is beyond safe. I was approached by a few beggers, but after Morocco these guys were like kittens. Every street had several "Public Safety" booths. In the night time, it gets a little more hectic, but like any big city where there is some poverty, don't walk alone in dark areas, and you'll be fine. I walked all the way down Kloof Road and Long Street, then hung a left and went down to the waterfront. The waterfront is a cool little area, with a mix of up-market and cheap restaurants and some nicely preserved markets, including craft and fresh fish. The port is still active with both private and commercial vessels. I got on to a ferris wheel called the "Wheel of Excellence". In reality, it was fairly mediocre, but there were some nice views of the city and the mountain. Signal hill, Lion's head and Table Mountain form a perfect backdrop for the city. At the waterfront, you can see them all, as well as Robben Island and the ocean. A dream location. I just wandered around the markets, and took in the sights of Table Mountain. I returned to Long Street for lunch, turning off into Green Market Square. I had an ostrich fillet steak...mighty flavour. I didn't do any more drinking, as Paddy's day was the next day.

I started Paddy's day with a climb up Table Mountain. I took the Plettenkop Gorge route, which most people do in about 2 hours. I got up in 1 hour 10 minutes, but it would have been faster if I hadn't stopped to puke. The heat and exertion just made me nauseous. This didn't take away from the experience, as the climb revealed some spectacular scenery beneath. Upon reaching the top, I was like a 5 year old. I ran from side to side, trying to see all the available sights. I took dozens of pictures, and did some rock climbing along the city side. I visited the highest point of the mountain, then returned to the café area, where I chanced upon the Abseil Africa people. "What?", I hear you ask, "With your fear of heights?" Nonetheless, a price was arranged, and a harness snugly fitted to my love spuds. I walked over the edge backwards, trying desperately to keep my feet moving quickly enough that I wouldn't flip over, but not so fast that I would slip forward and smash my teeth in. It was a sheer drop, 112 meters down. The view was spectacular, though I missed some of it while staring at my shoes to slow my heart rate. Half way down came the big surprise: no more cliff. The mountain went in and away from where I was, meaning that I was hanging in the fricking abyss. 60 odd meters still to go, and a tiny white bobbing helmet at the bottom to aim at. About half way down the abyss, I stopped panicking and started enjoying. I slowed my descent, and took in the spectacular scenery of Camps Bay. The area was so sloped and rocky that up until around 10m, any fall would have meant a slow, rocky, rolling death. Fortunately, in 15 years these guys have had a 100% safety record, so I was fine. Upon reaching the bottom, I had to walk back up a very interesting trail, skirting gorges and clambering up large rocks. Nothing hectic, but a little more like a real mountaineering experience. At the top, I though I would take the cable car down to enjoy some more views. Unfortunately, the view from the car was crap, and the ride took all of 2 minutes. Oh, well. Worthy of note is the wildlife on the mountain. I saw busy little mole-like creatures, and a few lizards, as well as some very striking birds.

In the evening, Paddy's Day commenced properly. We drank some cans of Guinness, and then headed down to Mitchell's at the waterfront. It's a Scottish bar, serving Irish drinks and food, though our waiter was Russian. I was drinking in the company of an Indian guy, some white Saffer's, and a coloured guy called Grant Tobin. Whoa now, don't panic at the use of "coloured". It's not a derogatory term in SA, it just means someone of mixed race. I wasn't really comfortable using it myself, but it's an awareness thing. Grant had some Irish blood, hence the "Tobin". Wayne from the Amber Tree and his brother were there (in fact it was his friends I was drinking with). They were a good bunch of people, and although I was the only genuine Irish person in Cape Town that night, so far as I could tell, the celebration was as good as any back in Ireland. We met a girl called Angel (she had the ID card to prove it), and she, Wayne and I went to a few spots on Long Street. "Joburg" was a noisesome spot with little atmosphere, so we went back to the good old The Power and the Glory. The wind was really wild, so I did my Micheal Jackson "What about us" impression, much to the amusement of my Belgian friends from the Amber Tree, Ann and Erik. After this, my old friends Brad and Dale showed up...and it gets a little hazy. We went on to a nightclub called 121, and had a few more rounds. Collapsed home around 4am. Just like home, really!

In the morning, I wasn't fit to move. I was supposed to depart on the 18th, but there was no way. I booked another night, and took the morning to recover. A "turbo" drink from Kauai, a juice and snack bar, helped move it right along. In the afternoon, I was up to visiting the beach with Wayne and Sammy. We headed to Camps Bay, on probably the hottest day during my time in Cape Town. I sunscreened up, and managed to stay burn free. Nice. We snacked on the beach and dipped our feet into the tide - which promptly erupted and covered us in water. Also nice. The beach was fairly quiet, though there were guys selling ice cream and coke. And paintings, oddly. According to my mate Gavin from Port Elizabeth, Camps Bay is a nudist beach...didn't see any of that this time. In the evening, everyone seemed to arrive home at the same time. We drank wine and swapped Paddy's day stories.

On the 19th, I was supposed to spend some time talking to Steve from the Amber Tree about my trip on the garden route, and renting a car. Instead, I booked another night. I had wanted to go and see Robben Island, the site of Nelson Mandela's incarceration, among other people, so I booked it for the 20th. On the 19th, I went downtown with a French girl called Magalie (or Margerine, or Maggie, whichever you prefer). She had expressed an interest in sharing the cost of a car on the garden route, and also was going on the same Robben Island tour, so we figured we would go and try out some more of Cape Town first. We went to the District 6 museum, where we learned about the displacement of residents, and to the Castle of Good Hope. The castle is really more of a small fort, but an interesting place to have a nosey around. We returned to the D6 museum to see a musical act they had told us would be on; an African lady was singing songs about the residents of D6, and about a people displaced. She had a beautiful voice. We retired to the hostel for the evening, and had boerwors for dinner (a big, delicious coiled sausage, made from beef). Magalie was not able to join me for the full tour as it turned out, though we might meet in Mossel Bay. Anything to lower the cost of car rental - even hanging out with the French!

On the 20th, we got to Robben Island. It is a grim place, though perhaps not in the way that Auschwitz or Birkenau were grim. Prisoners did die here under "interrogation"; terrible, long stints were imposed in solitary confinement. Overall though, the prison looked like any other: high walls, razor wire, towers and floodlights. The tour was in 2 sections, a bus tour of part of the Island, which was just ok, and then a walking tour of the prison, led by a former political prisoner. Our guide had been imprisoned from 1984 until 1989, for being a member of the ANC. He told us many stories of how the prisoners would entertain, and indeed educate, themselves. They ran political education classes daily, despite severe punishment when caught. At one point, dangerous criminals were mixed in with political prisoners in order to create fractures and violence, but the criminals ended up believing in the cause instead of in criminality, so the populations were seperated again. We saw Mandela's cell, and the garden where he hid his book "Long Walk to Freedom" as he was writing it. Robben Island was poignant in many ways, and not just due to the modern era: it was used as a place of segregation and isolation for hundreds of years, from lepers to criminals. It's story is not over, however. These days, people working on the tours there can also live on the island. There is a small primary school with 16 pupils - the teachers take the boat from Cape Town every day, so the kids get the day off in stormy weather. Robben Island's future may one day outshine its past.

By the time we got home, the absolute legend that Steve is, he had sorted out my car rental for the next day. A quiet evening with next to no alcohol lay ahead, as picking up a car stinking of booze is never good. We sat and chatted, squeezing in every last joke and story we could think of before the big departure. I went to pick the car up on the morning of the 21st. 6 nights in Cape Town, and I didn't come close to seeing all she had to offer. I just wasn't ready to leave after 3 nights, but after 6 I had to, so I could see more of SA. It is safe to say that I will return though; I will hopefully be able to see many of the places I visit again, but Cape Town captured my imagination in a really big way. If I do return, it will be to the Amber Tree lodge, to see Stephen, Wayne, Sammy, Dale and maybe Brad if he's down that way. To be in a town for 6/7 days and feel like you have mates there is the solo traveller's dream. I lived that, and other dreams, in the Mother City.

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Photos

Heroes of reconciliation
Desmond Tutu, Nelson Mandela, F.W. DeKlerk and...another guy.