Today I had a day without much of an agenda.  My goal was to go to the top of Table Mountain and possibly sneak in some shopping and have high tea if time permitted.  I woke up to a clear, warm Cape Town day with not a cloud in the sky, which signaled the perfect viewing conditions to go to Table Mountain (the mountain that is in the middle of Cape Town).  As luck would have it, the cable car which transports visitors up to the top was closed due to dangerously high winds.  Bummer.  Weather can change quickly, so I stalked the cable car information line while enjoying a leisurely barefooted stroll along Camps Bay beach.  At some point I decided to plop down on the sand with coffee in hand, dig my feet in the comfy sand, watch the waves crash, and reflect upon how lucky I was to be enjoying such a beautiful vista.  I finally wandered over to my favorite breakfast place, Kauai, also located on the beach, where I grabbed their delicious breakfast burrito.  I became addicted to this damn burrito while I was there and it was if I was physically incapable of not ordering a burrito and cafe latte on a daily basis. Perhaps, I was overcompensating for the fact that it was the closest thing Cape Town has to a burrito and I was having near pregnancy like cravings for Mexican/Latin food, which is nonexistent here (disclaimer, seeing as how I’ve never been pregnant, I can only speculate as to what it feels like to have an overwhelming and irrational craving for a particular type of food and while I was down there it was all things Latin).  

Wave crashing on Camps Bay.

After gorging myself on Kauai I decided to do the hop on/hop off bus thing again, but I selected a different route.  I chose this partly because it’s cheaper than taking a cab (the bus costs $12) and partly because I wanted to sit on the upper deck and work on my tan while getting around town.  I couldn’t exactly come to Africa and not pick up a bit of a tan.  Believe it or not it was harder to become the tan greek goddess that I am capable of becoming.  I was in a car for 4 days on Safari and with three days in misty Victoria Falls it was Cape Town or bust for the tan. I headed over to the V&A Waterfront to do some shopping. The V&A is like Pier 39 or South Street Seaport. I seemed to go there almost on a daily basis for one reason or another, which is slightly embarassing because that’s like coming to New York and heading down to the South Street Seaport every day.  It’s just not done!  However, it did allow me to hear my favorite Zulu band once again and grab some last minute souvenirs. 

View of Camps Bay on Top of Table Mountain

Luckily, the wind died down and I was able to head over to Table Mountain and catch the cable car.  It’s possible to hike up to the top.  It takes 3 hours, but for safety reasons people are advised not to do it alone and since I was by myself I paid the $15 round trip ticket and took the easy way up via the cable car.  What was neat about the cable car was that it rotates 360 degrees so your view is constantly changing.  This means that you should not hold onto the handrails, a concept which the Japanese tourist next to me had difficulty grasping.  I kept ramming into him every time the car would move and his hand remained stationary on the moving handrail.  The views on top of Table Mountain were spectacular!  You have views of all of Cape Town.  I took a ton of pictures and of course have now forgotten exactly what shots are of what.  I’m kind of annoyed about a picture that this guy took of me.  It would’ve been great, but upon later close up examination I realized that my eyes were closed.  :(  Oh well.

View from the Top of Table Mountain

From Table Mountain, I headed over to the Five star Mount Nelson Hotel to have High Tea.  Due to time constraints, I abandoned the hop on/hop off bus and arrived via taxi where the doormanopened my taxi door and greeted me by saying “welcome to the Mount Nelson your majesty.”  I could get used to this!  I can imagine the withdraw former presidents must feel when they’re no longer greeted with Hail to the Chief. I probably should’ve had lunch before I arrived for High Tea so I wasn’t acting like a turkey having its last meal before Thanksgiving in front of all the snooty British people, but I was ravenous by the time I arrived.  And seeing as how there was no dress code (much to my surprise), they can’t expect too much from me. I was disappointed that it was buffet style rather than the traditional English way I’ve always had High Tea before, but for the equivalent of $15, I could learn to share with my fellow subjects.  I “splurged” on the gourmet Earl Grey tea for an extra $2 and it was by far the best tea I’ve ever had, which I think says a lot for a former London city dweller.  Because I was ravenous and because everything looked so yummy, I felt like being a gluttonous pig here and I sampled a little bit of everything.  Yes, I know people are starving in Africa and I’m in Africa, but you’ll forgive me if I say, Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn. Plus, I’ve spent the day stimulating the hell out of the South African economy so hopefully it evens out.  The gardens were lovely. I opted to sit in the “veranda” so I could see the gardens, but still hear the piano playing softly in the background. The Way You Look Tonight was one of the songs being played and after two gluttonous weeks in Africa, I’m afraid about the way I look tonight.  Nevertheless, I’m loving my solo honeymoon, so much so that I think I’ll have another mini slice of chocolate cake adorned with gold flakes thank you very much.  I got the feeling that this is what it must’ve felt like during colonialism and I have to say, I’m a fan.  It’s sad that High Tea is also one of the lovlier aspects of British culture that we didn’t adopt. If it wasn’t for that damn tea tax and tea party in my hometown.  I left via taxi back to Camps Bay.  The doorman said goodbye to his “majesty” (seriously, it’s going to go to my head).

Gardens at the Mount Nelson

Cape Town is South Beach meets San Diego meets San Francisco meets Chicago.  It’s SoBe because of the restaurants and the beautiful people that line Camps Bay and Clifton Beach, it’s San Diego because everyone is riding their bikes or running along the beach and being healthy in the way that makes vacation vino loving tourists feel slightly guilty, it’s San Fran because of the houses that are built into the hills and it’s Chitown because Cape Town can be very windy.  Cape Town is more beautiful than any of them though.  The scenery is breathtaking and it’s as if all of Cape Town is a moody artist’s canvas that the artist is constantly revising depending upon the time of day.

Today I set out to explore the Bo Kaap area of Cape Town on my own.  Bo Kaap is an area of Cape Town that is famous for its brightly colored houses, reminiscent of Buenos Aires’ La Boca neighborhood.  It’s also the area where the Cape Malay muslim residents reside and where one must try Bobotie, a Cape Malay dish.  The area is kind of built up in guide books as a “must see” destination, but other than a few rando streets that house the well photographed colorful houses, there’s not a lot to do there.  However, I did stumble upon some art galleries and craft stores.  The area is in the process of being gentrified and I noticed a B&B.  I also noticed a pretty cool looking purple house for sale and envisioned the idea of buying it and opening up my own B&B.  It’s a romantic idea and not entirely impractical as the labor costs here are insanely cheap, e.g., my friend’s housekeeper is paid $10-15 a day to clean the house, do laundry, and iron it. Hell, it costs more than that in New York to get my laundry done by people whose English skills are suspect and I’m left wondering if they’ve understood my request to separate my whites and colors and to add fabric softener.

After exploring Bo Kaap and pleading to the camera battery gods not to die on me, I wandered down to the famous Long Street in the “City Bowl,” i.e., the Central Business District.  I expected lots of cool boutiques, cafes, galleries, bars and restaurants and although it definitely had those things, it was a little Bohemian/Backpackers paradise for my taste.  However, it did allow me to explore the “African” markets.  Although I love to decorate my apartment with various artwork and tchotchke I pick up while abroad, I was disappointed in the markets.  Mainly, all of the markets in Southern Africa that sell “African” goods appear to be mass produced and/or aren’t from the area.  Frankly, I’m not interested in a mask from West Africa, of which there were plenty.  It was at the Pan African Market where guys from Cameroon and Senegal started speaking French to me.  Random!   I’m not even sure how it happened.   All I did was ask if the masks were West African and the next thing I know they’re asking me en francais if I’m a Capetonian as I “look like one” (why because I’m blanca)?  I take that with a grain of salt as someone else asked me if I was from the islands (which islands?  The Seychelles?).   Speaking of being mistaken for a local, I was asked to give directions to Table Mountain while in Bo Kaap and while I was holding a camera.  To give you some perspective, that’s like asking somene in Time Square who is taking a picture in front of the Jumbotron  for directions to the Empire State building…kinda obvious that they’re a tourist and kinda obvious where the Empire State Building is (look up dude, look up to the sky).

I later met up with the girls and we drove out to Chapman’s Peak in Hout Bay to watch the sunset.  On the drive back we randomly wandered into a “township.”  As defined by the infallable wikipedia, a “township” is a term that “usually refers to the (often underdeveloped) urban living areas that, under Apartheid, were reserved for non-whites (principally black Africans and Couloureds, but also working class Indians).”  In my observations, townships are 100% black and it’s not usual for white people to be in them unless they’re on a township tour.  In many ways, they’re like flavelas in Rio, i.e., a village full of tin shacks set up by squatters (in South Africa they’re called something like unofficial residents) that are entirely self-sustainng.  We snapped a few pics on the DL and then drove home and capped the night off with some good food, good wine, and some South African companionship.  Not too shabby of a day, if you ask me.