Sleeping in, Surfing, Sex & the City

I'm having bad luck with the winds, so I still haven't been out kiting. I should be able to get three good days in since they're forecasting 16-18knots on Sat, Sun, and Mon.
Had a great sleep in on Monday morning, and bummed around the pool at the guest house. Ran into German Tom at the internet cafe that afternoon (small town syndrome) and we grabbed a coffee. Enjoyed yet another beautiful view of table mountain while sipping some super-sweet hazelnut froth machiato foam choco caramelo thing. Tom and I met up again later that evening for a beer at the beachfront Blue Peter. I sat down and asked the bartender "What do you recommend?", while pointing to the draft peer. He looked absolutely dumbfounded. Apparently South Africans are never asked what they recommend... With some coaxing he was able to name a few locals beers that I was able to try.

Yesterday morning I got out on a surf board for the first time! Andrice, a surfer bum in town, showed me the ropes and I managed to get the hang of it... somewhat. Keep in mind the ocean is pretty damn cold, so by the end of it I couldn't feel my feet and I was just guessing that I was standing in the right spot of the board.

I grabbed a quick lunch at home and headed into town. I was thinking I'd take the ferry out to Robben island, where all of the prisoners (namely Mandela) were held, but the ferries weren't running due to rough seas. I visited the District 6 museum instead, which displays artifacts and memories from the displacement of tens of thousands of blacks and coloureds from a long-standing community in Cape Town, District 6. The area was cleared of all its inhabitants and bulldozed to the ground to provide a 'fresh slate' for the redevelopment of Cape Town's white-dominated core in the early 70s. The museum provided great insight into the Apartheid era, and was an eye-opening experience considering how it was only relatively recently it all happened.

Although I could appreciate the museum, it was clear museums are not for me. I didn't last long and ventured towards the highly commercialized and touristy waterfront. The 20 minute walk from the museum to the waterfront was a trying experience. Mom and Dad, I owe you a million thanks for being brave enough to step back and let me do this trip. Every local I've met who learns that I'm traveling alone asks if my parents know what I'm doing. For the most part, they think I'm crazy. I realize this is not at all what you want to hear, but with the appropriate precautions, I will make it out safe and sound.

That being said, I have never been more aware of my surroundings in my life. Every bit of street sense I have ever acquired was put to the test as I made my way through a busy part of downtown Cape Town. It is a fact of life here that you cannot trust any black men. Especially me. I cannot trust police or security guards either. I've heard all sorts of stories... the parking lot security guards are the ones who tip off their buddies when they see you unload a brand new laptop into your car. The bank guards, and sometimes even tellers, are the ones who call in their friends when you leave the bank after taking out $1000. As I made my way through town, I knew the general direction of where I was headed, and made a point of staying on main streets. I'm talking major streets too, comparable to many of Toronto's busier streets, but I still had to be on constant watch. I took the Canadian flag off of my day pack the other day. It was a clear giveaway that I was a tourist, and made me an immediate target. I avoided using an ATM in town, and just waited to withdraw cash when I got back to Table View. At one point there was no pedestrian access through a certain area- you had to take an underground tunnel. Hundreds, even thousands of people streaming through, but it still was not safe. So I veered into the Woolworth's on my right and wandered through ladies fashions until I re-oriented myself and decided where I was going next. I found myself constantly peering for white people in the crowds. If I were to ever be approached, and god forbid attacked, I've been told they are more likely to step in and do something, rather than turn a blind eye. The sight of a 45 year old man in a business suit was a reassuring thing to see, not to mention a white female of any age.

I don't want to paint a horrific picture, but it was not a relaxed mid-afternoon stroll through town. The likelihood of anything happening in broad daylight in such a busy area is slim to none. There were a few great shots I would have liked to take, but the last thing I was going to do was pull out my camera and get all snap happy.

I eventually made it to the waterfont area, where I was able to collect some good info for planning a hike out of Durban, into the Drakensberg mountain range, and a map of the famous Stellenbosch wine region. To my pleasant surprise this mall area had a movie theatre, and Sex in the City was playing! First movie by myself and it was a blast. Definitely made me miss home though...

The movie ended and I wandered into the still-busy mall area. I sat myself down on a bench and succumbed to being a tourist as I pulled out not only a map of the city, but a map of the mall/waterfront area itself, and my lonely planet bible. I chose a restaurant recommended by Lonely Planet and was in the process of figuring out how to get there from here when a woman and her son sit down next to me.

"Are you looking for anything in specific?" she asks.
"The Cape Grace Hotel," I reply.
"Ah yes, it's just over there," she says, pointing outside, across the waterfront area. "How did you get here? Did you walk?"
"Yes, but during the day," I say, recognizing that she would think I was crazy if I had walked to the mall on my own at night. Her husband strolls over to see what's about, and she tells him that they must escort me over to the Cape Grace, since I'm alone.
"You musn't walk alone," she says, "Let us walk with you over there. You can trust us. I'm a traveler myself and I can understand it from your perspective."
The young couple has the most adorable 3 year old with them, they are well-dressed, well-spoken, and in my gut I can tell they are indeed trustworthy. We wander outside in the dark, to find ourselves stuck in the pouring rain again. After about a hundred feet we realize it's actually further than anticipated, so they offer to drive me since it's raining so heavily. I've learned the couple are both born and bred Capetownians, and the husband is a somewhat famous local, as the COO of Cape Town football club. I checked it out online... it's true.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Santos_Football_Club_(South_Africa)
For the diehards out there, his football bio is at: http://www.soccerbase.com/players_details.sd?playerid=30861

According to Wikipedia, Edries Burton (the husband) has had the most starts. Neato.
So we hop into their shiny new BMW and make our way to the gorgeous Cape Grace Hotel, as they readily offer their personal mobile numbers and other contact info. If I find myself in town this weekend I've got an offer to go out for drinks with the wife and some of her girlfriends.
The couple lives in the very upscale Constantia wine region, where I toured around a few days ago. Not bad...

They thought it hilarious, but fascinating, that I was about to sit down for dinner by myself. They wished me well and told me to contact them if I ever need anything.
Funny how I could have one of the most intimidating walks through town in my life, and yet meet some of the friendliest strangers later that same day. The irony of South Africa is everywhere.

My second sit-down dinner alone. As I said, One.Waterfront came as a recommendation in Lonely Planet. The thing is, I think they've re-vamped the place since the review was written. The door to the car was opened and I was escorted in my flip flops and travel bum clothes into the lavish entryway of the restaurant where I proudly requested a table for one, slipping in a comment noting that I felt slightly under-dressed, to which the hostess replied, "Oh no no... please, join us!"

A handful of business men and couples were scattered throughout the space, exquisite decor and beautiful paintings adorning the walls. I am seated at a spectacular little spot, perfect for people watching. As I peruse the wine menu, the Sommelier, clad in a snappy little suit, offers her expertise in making my selection. Woody, oaken, tart, spicy, full-bodied, smooth, peachy... which to choose. With her help, I chose 2 reds and 2 whites, both of which I had the opportunity to taste. All four bottles presented to me, four wine glasses, with detailed descriptions of each accompanying the tasting. As I sip my second taster, I'm served a decadent salmon mousse resting on a colourful hand-made pasta, compliments of the chef. This is where I begin to feel like royalty.

I enjoyed a creamy corn-carrot chowder soup, followed by the juiciest Springbok, a local buck, served with butternut squash crusted thingys on the side. It was incredible. The wines complimented the meal perfectly, and believe it or not, I didn't have room for dessert. I was genuinely disappointed. I was waited on hand and foot throughout the entire meal, my every whim and need taken care of. This meal was really, truly about the meal. I savoured every bite and couldn't even tell you how many people were sitting nearby, or how many passed through. It was just me and the food.

Despite plans to get out kiting again this morning (Wednesday), the winds just weren't making an appearance. So now I find myself with keys to a rental car, and a route planned to Stellenbosch, all by myself. I did a few laps around the neighbourhood to adjust to the gear shift on the left, driving on the left, and the fear-factor of it all. Phil is expecting a phone call from me upon my arrival in Stellenbosch, about 45 minutes away. I've got a place booked at a backpackers and a tour through the world-famous vineyards tomorrow. I'm going to need a lot of fingers crossed for this driving adventure. Wish me luck.