Advertisement
Published: August 26th 2010
Edit Blog Post
Wave your flag
World Cup opening day I'm not exactly sure what to expect when arriving in Cape Town after 27 hours on a bus from Durban. I was here seven years ago on an amazing family holiday, but many more recent travel memories have since pushed those from South Africa into the increasingly cobwebbed crevices of my recollection. What does spring to mind is a stunningly beautiful city and in that respect at least nothing seems to have changed. Cape Town is undoubtedly one of the World's most glamorous destinations and I am lucky enough to spend almost 10 weeks there. It's difficult to leave.
My reason for coming to Cape Town, and ostensibly the excuse for my seven months meandering down the eastern side of Africa, is the FIFA World Cup. And it doesn't disappoint. Every day, what an atmosphere! Every day, what a party!! Every day, what a hangover!!! The excitement that builds on the opening day is unbelievable. The streets are empty. The bars so rammed that only the most seasoned pub dwellers are able to manoeuvre a pint through the throng without losing at least half of their beverage. It's impossible not get caught up in it all and vuvuzela in
hand I find myself sinking onto my knees with everyone else when Bafana Bafana hit the post right at the death against Mexico.
At first I stay with some family friends from when my dad briefly lived in Cape Town 35 years ago. They are impossibly impeccable hosts and I cannot overstate the generosity of their hospitality. Unfortunately they live quite far out in Constantia and as the competition continues I find myself spending more and more time staying with new Cape Town comrades. Towards the end of the tournament I therefore move closer in to the centre of town, around the student area of Observatory. If you're reading, my heartfelt thank you to all my hosts. My fantastic experiences in this city would not have been possible without you.
10 weeks is far too long to cover in one blog. I certainly can't remember all (or even much) of what happened and, to be honest, it probably wouldn't mean a great deal to people back home anyway. I might as well throw in a few things to pad out this entry though and, as it's much easier to write at length about things which are
irksome, rather than to continue waffling on about Cape Town's unparalleled aesthetics. I'll begin with a football related complaint. Well three actually...
1. Ghana. They should have made the semis and have only themselves (or at least Asamoah Gyan) to blame. Anybody who says they wouldn't have done the same as Suarez is a grade A liar. Certain elimination or probable elimination? A no brainer. Stop bitching. Also why were they celebrated as heroes for being so mediocre and simply making the quarters. Only we British attribute so much glory to (and generate so much masochistic enjoyment from) failure. Ghana: the Tim Henmans of the World Cup.
2. The Jabulani ball. Anybody who actually watched five minutes of any game knows that I need not elaborate much on this point. Nobody wants to see Frank Lampard bearing down on goal (and I use that turn of phrase in the most generous possible way Frank), unleash a rasping shot from 20 yards out, only to watch his effort curve up and away like a mathematical graph. Well, maybe if you're a Man U fan.
3. David Villa's refusal to shave that insufferable "beard" of his.
Why?! Is it some Iberian equivalent of Samson's flowing locks? If somebody were to take a razor to his chin and remove that offensive tuft of fluff, would Señor Villa suddenly start to emulate the finishing skills of a drunken flamingo? Utterly intolerable.
Being in Cape Town for ten days before things kick off, all during the tournament, and for a month afterwards lends an interesting perspective on the city. I see the frantic last minute preparations - there is still building work going on around the Green Point stadium and at the train station right until the last minute - as well as the gradual build-up of fans and nervous excitement. Once things are over however there is a bit of a reality check. People certainly take some time to recover from their World Cup hangover, even Mandela's birthday on the Sunday following the final doesn't seem to make the city lively again, let alone get it up and running properly. The trains never recover. Having been used to catching them home after the night games it takes a while to adjust to departures which no longer dare to venture beyond an 8pm curfew.
The
darker side of South Africa's character also emerges as a wave of xenophobic attacks break out across the country, which is fairly depressing after all the pontificating about a united Africa during the World Cup. While the football is on the locals are like an intoxicated and enthusiastic party host; encouraging everyone to bring loads of booze and have an uproarious time. But then they wake up late the next day, realise they must go to work (or not, for the 25% of the country who are unemployed) and still find people sleeping on the sofas, the spirits cupboard rinsed, puke in the bathroom and somebody raiding what little is left in the fridge. Many tourists, myself included, were bowled over by the ebullient and affectionately amicable South Africans. But once the show’s over there is a distinct change in atmosphere.
One thing I am more pleased about here is the crime, specifically the lack of it in relation to me! The LP describes crime in South Africa as "the national obsession" and the statistics are pretty grim. 52 murders daily and 55,000 (reported) rapes per year, although the actual figure for the latter is estimated to
be ten times higher, which (according to my calculator) would entail one every 57 seconds! Friends have their stuff stolen right from under their noses in bars and someone I know has his place broken into and ransacked. One of the former residents of my second abode apparently got mugged four times in the space of a couple of months in Observatory. Yet, seeing as it's about as safe a place as there is in Cape Town this must have been down to a severe lack of common sense or some spectacular bad luck. During my stay I spend a night in a township, even wandering around it late at night - in all honesty Mum I knew what I was doing, promise - and nothing happens to me. The worst crime I witness is some of the guys who sell the South African flag wing mirror sleeves stealing back what they've just profited from.
I'm here for a bit of football and a bit of hedonism. However, I do manage to fit in a few of the usual tourist hotspots during my time here as well. The District Six Museum, the Rhodes Memorial, Bo-Kaap, Simonstown, the V&A
Waterfront and a bit of the Garden Route all get ticked off. I climb Table Mountain twice - anything less would frankly be embarrassingly lazy - once right at the start of my stay and once at the end. A few weeks of good living have clearly taken their toll because after the second time I'm sore for days. By now it's August, and once I recover it really is finally time to leave.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.069s; Tpl: 0.02s; cc: 8; qc: 29; dbt: 0.0344s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb
For ever Searching
Mohanad Elballal
the affect is some what ruined by the trainers:D