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Published: August 3rd 2008
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At the top
Me at the top of Devil's Peak Cape Town’s location is a geography teacher’s dream: below the mountains, on a peninsula, and located at the intersection of the Atlantic and Indian Oceans. Unfortunately, all these geographical features contribute to unpleasant weather in their winter months, and this unpleasant weather caused high winds in Shark Alley in Gansbaai, the site of my shark dive. The winds were so high that my shark diving expedition had to be postponed. I was disappointed, but 2 Way Travel promptly rescheduled for the following weekend, so I was confident that I would get my chance to see Jaws in person. Scorecard reads Weather 2, Kyle 0.
Additionally, we rescheduled our Devil’s Peak hike and this time made it all the way to the summit, some 3,000 feet above ground, and one of the highest points in the Cape. The narrow pass at the ¾ mark where we got blown off last time was very narrow; we stepped down first along stones with no cliff edge to hold onto, and made our way into a briar of thick bushes. It seemed unorthodox to go down after climbing upwards the entire time, but eventually we crossed onto the upper tip near the peak and
Cape Town
Cape Town during nice weather. weaved our way up the cliffs to the summit. The weather grew distinctly colder at the top, and we went from shorts and t-shirts in the beginning of the climb to long sleeve pullovers and pants by the top. A small rain trickled down, and gray clouds scattered our view, but it was still an impressive feeling to stand at the top overlooking the city. I was specifically proud of myself because I wore my Northface pants and pullover, and was happy that I got to wear my Northface gear for something wild, instead of just walking back and forth between classes.
It was at the top I thought of Peyton Manning when the clock ticked down and the Colts officially won their Super Bowl. For years the media had dogged him as being a Dan Marino clone, or another great quarterback who couldn’t win the big game. When the Colts won the Super Bowl, Manning had every right to leap into the air like Phil Mickelson winning the Masters, or break down into tears like Michael Jordan when he won the NBA Championship. Instead, Manning simply walked out onto the field, lips clenched, with his fist raised into the air. It was a very quiet yet resonating celebration. It was the celebration of a man who knew that he would always win a Super Bowl; it was just a matter of time before he’d be able to officially raise the Lombardi Trophy. Of all the championship celebrations I’ve seen in sports, I remember Manning’s for its class and for his confidence walking onto the field; he acted like he’d won a Super Bowl before, because he always knew deep down that he’d win one.
I remembered this celebration when I reached the summit of Devil’s Peak, because I remembered when we were blown off a couple weeks ago how disappointed I felt trudging all the way back down. When I got to the top I stood by the pole indicating the highest point and quietly glanced at the surrounding Cape. My nose was running and my fingers were numb, but I refrained from jumping up and down. I simply admired the view I longed to see and always knew I was going to see, if only for a matter of time.
By this point I was a few weeks into the semester and settled into a schedule. Classes started picking up and the workload consisted mostly of reading journal articles and writing responses to them for my tutorials. The winter weather was rainy and chilly, and on many days I’d walk outside my apartment and not be able to see Devil’s Peak because the clouds were so densely covering it. I packed the outer waterproof shell of my winter coat, a rain poncho and a tiny travel umbrella, but none of them were any match for the Cape Town rain. Cape Town rain is the Barry Sanders of rainstorms; it shifted left, then right, then up, then down. Much like the Wonkavator in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, which went upways and downways and sideways and diagonalways, the Cape Town rain could change directions in the blink of an eye, meaning that every part of your body got soaked, and if it wasn’t soaked, the rain shifted positions until it soaked the last remaining dry spot.
It was during a smaller drizzle that I took the UCT shuttle into Cape Town and walked down to the V & A Waterfront, Cape Town’s famous shopping and restaurant district complete with a mall, various restaurants, docks, the Two Ocean’s Aquarium and tour boats out to Robben Island, where Nelson Mandela was kept as a prisoner for 26 years. While unpacking my suitcase during my first week, I’d discovered that the sandals I’d bought back home were both left footed. I don’t know how my mom and I missed this while we were packing, but never the less, I went to a store called Cape Union Mart along the Waterfront that is essentially the South African translation of a Northface or Gander Mountain in the United States. I bought myself a new pair of sandals, checking the box to ensure that they had both a left and right shoe, and headed back to the shuttle stop in the steady drizzle.
As I walked through downtown Cape Town in the rain, I noticed him immediately: pale, youthful face, leather jacket and Yankees hat. Connor and my eyes met through the raindrops, and he immediately crossed the street and approached me. The situation was horrifying: I was trudging through a city, in the rain, carrying a big shopping bag while Connor started walking beside me.
“I tried finding you,” he said.
This time he said he needed me to come to the exchange bureau with him to help him exchange money, and I lied and said I had class in a half hour to get away from him. He once again told me to meet him at the train station at 6 o’clock and I nodded and sped off into the rain.
I couldn’t believe it. For a second I thought that maybe I was John Nash and I was developing schizophrenia, and Connor was a figment of my madness. Cape Town is a large city with a population of nearly 3,000,000 people, what were the odds of me running into Connor again, this time downtown on the street? Was it a sign that I was meant to help him? That he truly meant well and that he was honestly going to pay me back?
Again, I returned to my apartment and played conscientious tennis within my mind while the clock ticked away. My good moral half must be Roger Federer, because it won easily in straight sets. I figured that I should just go and settle this issue with Connor once and for all. In the graying evening, with a cold and steady drizzle, I once again walked down to the nerve-racking street and the train station. I waited for twenty minutes, keeping a watch out on the main road, the parking lot and the train platform, but Connor never showed up. Frustrated, scared and relieved, I hurried back to my apartment.
I never ran into Connor again, and I don’t know what ever became of him. While studying abroad, there are a lot of experiences that challenge you, from communicating with locals to navigating around a foreign city, but this challenge was unique. Probably because I gave him the 300 rand out of irritation, I didn’t exactly feel like a reformed Ebenezer Scrooge at the end of A Christmas Carol, and after running into him in the middle of the city, I wondered why I ran into him again. Could he have been a con artist trying to get some extra money out of me? Possibly, but he could have equally been a relieved tourist trying to show his gratitude and had trouble catching a train. All I know is that the whole incident was another mountain, another climb in the rain, with clouds blocking the view from a summit that I still don’t know if I ever reached.
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mom
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no sharks!
Too bad about the weather again...I can't wait to hear about the shark encounter! But, I'm so proud of you for finding a McDonalds...and I was worried you wouldn't be eating well!! (How's school, by the way!) love, MOM