Arriving in Cape Town

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Late Sunday afternoon and our approach to Cape Town, after whistling down a modern four lane highway, gives way to a less salubrious drive passing chunky low rise concrete buildings that'd be at home in the Australian outback. Climbing the steep hill to our guesthouse, I hazard the guess that this probably isn't where Elton John recently stayed when he was in town and there aren't enough flowers for one.

Reluctant to say bye to the cab driver faced by a derelict ground opposite and a spooky lack of people, I press the 'Upperbloem' buzzer. Moments later, our petite host Katrin appears and leads us through the herbaceous garden to the contemporary building housing our room.

The handful of rooms share a large kitchen with terrace providing superb views of Table Mountain. We'd booked a small room for our three nights but Katrin kindly offered the use of the larger room for two of them, which though adjacent to the kitchen, shared its magnificent views.

Organising ourselves and armed with a map, we ventured out while still light to the hubbub of Long Street, where it all happens if you want it to. We didn't. We stopped at a small restaurant offering Cuban food and the choice of smoking or non smoking table (which now seems so weird) and ate heartily. Advised that it was safer to take a taxi and only costing R20 (£2) we hopped in one. With pedestrian only access at the top of our road, our lazy taxi driver dropped us there instead of going round meaning a) it sort of defeated the point of us getting home safely b) we were in the car for all of about two minutes - must have been the easiest R20 ever.

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