It's 07.30 on my final full day in Cape Town and I have no intention of allowing Mr Bug to get the better of me any longer. I have by this time been in bed since Monday night. Under instruction to pack his bags and vacate the premises I left Mr Bug to 'bug off' and I leapt out of bed. I sensed that I was a little frail having eaten nothing bar a couple of biscuits the day before and I suspect there was a slight stagger in my walk caused by the floating sensation. I normally only suffer from this after a night out in Barnes! Lie.
Pasta. It seemd like a good idea, and it was. I headed off to the Cape Quarter in the Waterkant area of town which is a 10 minute walk from Long Street where my hostel is. Waterkant has a similar feel to Bo-Kaap which it borders on, with the brightly coloured little houses, cobbled, hilly streets and tidy presentation. Shops packed with beautiful African art and antiques sit alongside restaurants and delicatessens. Amble through an arch on a cobbled path and you walk into Cape Quarter wich is a stylish little complex lined with restaurants and a few boutiques. I took a seat outside Andiamo and ordered a bowl of fresh pasta, some water and some white wine to settle my stomache! Oh and of course a fresh coffee to wash it all down with. So there Mr Bug. Ha!
At 20.00 I hopped in a cab to S-Bar to meet Sabrine and her boyfriend who I was meant to see the night before. S-Bar is a very chic night spot that serves great cocktails and sushi... I indulged in the former naturallly. Sabrine is the daughter of my father's friend and she has been so pro-active in trying to meet up and give me an idea of what to do in Cape Town. This girl has it all.... natural style, charisma, looks, intelligence and charm. It was an absolute pleasure to meet her! Now of course I am expecting a similar write up in return.
Mandy and Herman then turned up and whisked me off to see some more of Cape Town's stylish night spots. However being a Wednesday in the middle of the winter we found that everything was either closed down for refurbishment or so dead that we would have been the party. We all agreed that a party needs more than three pulses. Of course lentils, chick peas and rice would be a good start but personally a few blood related pulses would be more exciting. Herman and Mandy persevered and finally we piled into a great bar with a pool table and gloomy lighting. The walls were papered with all sorts of labels and packaging while the dark bar was packed with enough spirits to overwhelm the Ghostbusters. After a a few cheeky ones we made a move and headed home, saying my farewells to Handy and Merrman as they booted me out into Long Street!
I love you Mingus and thank you so much for the effort you went to to show me around. It was so great to see you and Herrrrrman and I truly hope that we can catch up again soon. And remember....
"Always make sure that you are at the positive end of the receiving end!"
Mandy Swart, 2007
Thursday, 31 May 2007
Wednesday, 30 May 2007
29.05.07 - I've Been Bugged
Oh dear, what can I say? This diary entry will be not be the most exciting I write and I hope that it will not be repeated during my travels. A nasty little bug caught me unawares as I slept peacefully in Room 19 and on waking he reared his ugly head and twisted my stomach. I spent the day in bed, grateful that I was not making my way to the airport for my 21 hour journey to New York!
By 18.30 I managed to extract myself from the security of my room to cross the road to the internet cafe in order to break the news to Sabrine Kast that I could not make it to supper. Sabrine is the daughter of one of my father's skiing buddies and she had very kindly arranged for me to go to dinner with some of her friends in the Cape Quarter. Now anyone who knows me knows that I hate to miss any social event, but somehow the idea of breaking out of the horizontal/foetal position was too much to bear.
Time passed so slowly in that little room of mine that I started to think that I had missed an entire day. If you continue to read my diary you will realize that this was not the case.....
By 18.30 I managed to extract myself from the security of my room to cross the road to the internet cafe in order to break the news to Sabrine Kast that I could not make it to supper. Sabrine is the daughter of one of my father's skiing buddies and she had very kindly arranged for me to go to dinner with some of her friends in the Cape Quarter. Now anyone who knows me knows that I hate to miss any social event, but somehow the idea of breaking out of the horizontal/foetal position was too much to bear.
Time passed so slowly in that little room of mine that I started to think that I had missed an entire day. If you continue to read my diary you will realize that this was not the case.....
Monday, 28 May 2007
26.05.07 - The Meeting of Mindy.
I am encountering a frustrating problem about traveling alone. How on Earth am I to take a picture of myself in these beautiful surroundings? While sitting on the same empty beach in Clifton today I decided to have a go. I quickly came to the conclusion that the 'arms length' approach does not work. While I am pretty good at aiming the camera at my face the picture that is taken always depicts a giant Ed-head blocking out all of the beauty that lies behind. I can do that in my living room in London for goodness sake! The next attempt made use of the timer function on the camera. Having placed the camera carefully up on a rock I set the timer-a-tickin', bolted back to the rock that was the focus of the shot and struck an awkward pose. At this point I am feeling incredibly vain and in the picture I seem to be more severe than the rock in the background!
Having intended to make my way to the beach early today I was a little disappointed to be in Cape Town still at 14.30. On waking up I found that the flat tyre on my hired bicycle was still very flat. The rental shop was closed so I pushed the bicycle to the local petrol station where the pump attendant set to removing the tyre and replacing it, using a blunt stainless steel table knife and a fork handle (no not four candles... that would be silly). The tyre was then seemingly over-filled with air and adjusted a little more with the make-shift tools. At this point I parted with 20 Rand to thank the attendant who probably had no idea what he was doing, and off I went. My backside had barely touched the saddle before I heard the flapping of rubber on the tarmac. FLAT TYRE.
Waiting for the owner of the shop to return to replace my wheel I sat in the sunshine at my favourite Caribbean restaurant on Long Street with a coffee and a bacon, cheddar and banana sandwich! What a concoction... but quite satisfying to be honest. I offered my table to a couple of London gals who will be popping up to my hostel for a braai tomorrow by coincidence. One is called Deborah and the other is Spanish. I cannot divulge any more information than this and I have no idea whether this will be of any future relevance.
The exciting event of the day was that I would be meeting up with fair Mingus (also known as Mindy but christened Mandy Swart) whom I used to work with in the Kingston branch of Habitat. Mingus used to give me a reason to look forward to going to work each day as I knew that I could share any frustrations I may have (of which there were many in Scabitat) and we shared the outlook on the whole Kingston thing as a whole. I won't go into this any more than to say that our catchphrase was "there is nothing wrong with having standards".
As I sat down alone to have a bite to eat in my favourite hip local cafe while I waited for Mingus to arrive a rather merry Cape Tonian chap laughed at me for sitting alone at my compact table outside and insisted that I join his group inside. So there I am, thrust into the middle of a table of locals who are all up for a night at Roosevelts nightclub. I immediately took a shine to Renee, an elegant black lady sporting a full 80's look comprising of fitted leather jacket, black leggins, polka-dot heels, plastic earings and a neat afro tidily swept back under a headscarf. Renee sure was up for a dance but I had Mingus in mind!
Suddenly a girl stepped through the doors staring,smiling and waving at me, all at once. I was briefly baffled, and then thrilled when I realized it was fair Mingus! Where her hair was black (just like her surname which translates from 'Swart' to 'black') she now has shoulder length fair hair. Isn't it incredible how different someone can look after an attack with some hair dye?! On the end of her arm (she does have two arms but I did not feel the need to mention the other) was her boyfriend Herman. We popped down the road to a local bar and caught up over some cheeky vodka concoctions. It was great to see Mingus and my heart was warmed by the sense that we have never been apart. Have no doubt - she will be making another appearance in my travel diary.....
Having intended to make my way to the beach early today I was a little disappointed to be in Cape Town still at 14.30. On waking up I found that the flat tyre on my hired bicycle was still very flat. The rental shop was closed so I pushed the bicycle to the local petrol station where the pump attendant set to removing the tyre and replacing it, using a blunt stainless steel table knife and a fork handle (no not four candles... that would be silly). The tyre was then seemingly over-filled with air and adjusted a little more with the make-shift tools. At this point I parted with 20 Rand to thank the attendant who probably had no idea what he was doing, and off I went. My backside had barely touched the saddle before I heard the flapping of rubber on the tarmac. FLAT TYRE.
Waiting for the owner of the shop to return to replace my wheel I sat in the sunshine at my favourite Caribbean restaurant on Long Street with a coffee and a bacon, cheddar and banana sandwich! What a concoction... but quite satisfying to be honest. I offered my table to a couple of London gals who will be popping up to my hostel for a braai tomorrow by coincidence. One is called Deborah and the other is Spanish. I cannot divulge any more information than this and I have no idea whether this will be of any future relevance.
The exciting event of the day was that I would be meeting up with fair Mingus (also known as Mindy but christened Mandy Swart) whom I used to work with in the Kingston branch of Habitat. Mingus used to give me a reason to look forward to going to work each day as I knew that I could share any frustrations I may have (of which there were many in Scabitat) and we shared the outlook on the whole Kingston thing as a whole. I won't go into this any more than to say that our catchphrase was "there is nothing wrong with having standards".
As I sat down alone to have a bite to eat in my favourite hip local cafe while I waited for Mingus to arrive a rather merry Cape Tonian chap laughed at me for sitting alone at my compact table outside and insisted that I join his group inside. So there I am, thrust into the middle of a table of locals who are all up for a night at Roosevelts nightclub. I immediately took a shine to Renee, an elegant black lady sporting a full 80's look comprising of fitted leather jacket, black leggins, polka-dot heels, plastic earings and a neat afro tidily swept back under a headscarf. Renee sure was up for a dance but I had Mingus in mind!
Suddenly a girl stepped through the doors staring,smiling and waving at me, all at once. I was briefly baffled, and then thrilled when I realized it was fair Mingus! Where her hair was black (just like her surname which translates from 'Swart' to 'black') she now has shoulder length fair hair. Isn't it incredible how different someone can look after an attack with some hair dye?! On the end of her arm (she does have two arms but I did not feel the need to mention the other) was her boyfriend Herman. We popped down the road to a local bar and caught up over some cheeky vodka concoctions. It was great to see Mingus and my heart was warmed by the sense that we have never been apart. Have no doubt - she will be making another appearance in my travel diary.....
Saturday, 26 May 2007
25.05.07 - What? An Early Night?!
This is a rare occurance indeed. At home in London I am rarely in bed before midnight because there is always something to divert my attention from the uninspiring idea of going to bed. Well, as Friday drew to a close I found myself strangely drawn to the idea of locking myself away in my sparse single bedroom. So guess what.... I did. I am not going to kick myself for missing out on some fun in Long Street where my hostel is because I had a tiring day. Trust me.
The idea of relying on my feet to get me around this awkward and sometimes intimidating city was becoming a little frustrating so I decided to hire a bike until Monday afternoon. I was quite chuffed with myself for breaking with the backpacker norm and set off for the Kloof Nek Road that runs out out of the west of Cape Town as the city gives way Table Mountain. This road then passes between the mountain peaks and drops down to the Atlantic coast. I decided to take the back roads through the hilly residential areas to meet Kloof Nek Road where some stunning houses sit behind big walls with stunning views over the city. It was hard going and I regretted stopping at the steepest point.... I just didn't have the body weight to get enough momentum get the bike moving again and to stay on the bike! Self-consciously I walked up the last part of the hill. I shall now be significantly increasing my intake of lard to avoid a repeat episode of this traumatic experience. But hey, I still cannot believe that I cycled that pass to then be looking down over the skyscrapers of Cape Town!
The idea of relying on my feet to get me around this awkward and sometimes intimidating city was becoming a little frustrating so I decided to hire a bike until Monday afternoon. I was quite chuffed with myself for breaking with the backpacker norm and set off for the Kloof Nek Road that runs out out of the west of Cape Town as the city gives way Table Mountain. This road then passes between the mountain peaks and drops down to the Atlantic coast. I decided to take the back roads through the hilly residential areas to meet Kloof Nek Road where some stunning houses sit behind big walls with stunning views over the city. It was hard going and I regretted stopping at the steepest point.... I just didn't have the body weight to get enough momentum get the bike moving again and to stay on the bike! Self-consciously I walked up the last part of the hill. I shall now be significantly increasing my intake of lard to avoid a repeat episode of this traumatic experience. But hey, I still cannot believe that I cycled that pass to then be looking down over the skyscrapers of Cape Town!
"You can take the Brit out of Britain, but you can never take the British out of the Brit."
This is what I muttered to myself with amusement as I took my t-shirt off on an almost deserted beach in Clifton on the Atlantic coast. Yes it is warm in the sun and the temperature must be about 20 degrees. But this is winter in South Africa! But am I bothered? The bay is one of four separated by big boulders of rock, glamorous villas clinging to the hillside all the way up through the luscious hillside. The water is clear and very blue but on walking into it the COLD stabbed through my toes and threatened to turn them blue. That was enough swimming for one day I felt.
I had had enough mountainous terrain for one day and so I decide to cycle back along the coast through Seapoint. This is actually Brighton or Portsmouth in the sunshine.... Table Mountain backdrop excused. Although there seemed to be as much excitement and buzz as a stagnant pond. Ok, it was a lovely place and the cycle ride was very pleasant. Six points.
Flat tyre. I feel deflated. That would never happen to my feet would it?
Excuse the diversion, but I need to get something off my chest. For the sake of humour I swiftly referred to Paul, whom I met in the hostel bar last night, as mad. I have done him an injustice. Granted, he is mad but he deserved a few more lines in my diary because we became entangled in a very deep and no doubt time-consuming conversation about life. As we conversed he really struck a chord with me in an amazing way. He pinpointed some very positive things in life that I have recently been feeling about myself but would never have discussed with anyone. I cannot go into it any more but I really appreciated talking to this nutter and felt quite blown away by his insight and the fact that someone else shares my opinion.
And so by 20.30 I have locked my door and started to tuck into the assortment of food I have purchased- some ham, a couple of cheeses, sweet peppers and a baguette. A bottle of Pinotage (19 Rands: about 1.30 in the UK!) only added to the novelty of the occasion and by 22.30 I had turned the lights out to fall asleep with the soothing tones of the live jazz band ambling through the corridors and the floorboards from the bar downstairs....
I had had enough mountainous terrain for one day and so I decide to cycle back along the coast through Seapoint. This is actually Brighton or Portsmouth in the sunshine.... Table Mountain backdrop excused. Although there seemed to be as much excitement and buzz as a stagnant pond. Ok, it was a lovely place and the cycle ride was very pleasant. Six points.
Flat tyre. I feel deflated. That would never happen to my feet would it?
Excuse the diversion, but I need to get something off my chest. For the sake of humour I swiftly referred to Paul, whom I met in the hostel bar last night, as mad. I have done him an injustice. Granted, he is mad but he deserved a few more lines in my diary because we became entangled in a very deep and no doubt time-consuming conversation about life. As we conversed he really struck a chord with me in an amazing way. He pinpointed some very positive things in life that I have recently been feeling about myself but would never have discussed with anyone. I cannot go into it any more but I really appreciated talking to this nutter and felt quite blown away by his insight and the fact that someone else shares my opinion.
And so by 20.30 I have locked my door and started to tuck into the assortment of food I have purchased- some ham, a couple of cheeses, sweet peppers and a baguette. A bottle of Pinotage (19 Rands: about 1.30 in the UK!) only added to the novelty of the occasion and by 22.30 I had turned the lights out to fall asleep with the soothing tones of the live jazz band ambling through the corridors and the floorboards from the bar downstairs....
Friday, 25 May 2007
24.05.07 - These Boots Are Made For Walking
Traveling alone is a great experience and it does seem to change the way that one observes the world around you. At least this is what I am finding. I now have the time to take in everything that I am seeing and sit back and think about it. I love it!
So there I am at about midday sitting in the vast new complex built around the Victoria & Albert Marina. It is a great development with a vast shopping centre and a wide array of different cafes and restaurants. The sky was clear despite this being winter in South Africa and the view through the harbour towards the ocean was breathtaking as I watched a catamaran sailing out towards the shimmering horizon. The time was right for a coffee so I picked a table outside a restaurant overlooking a waterway. And of course a fruit filled crepe goes well with coffee.
And then it dawned on me. I AM A TOURIST! There is no avoiding the fact that no matter where I go I will stand out like a flamingo in a penguin colony ( the pink thing had no relevance to my choosing a flamingo.... this is merely a coincidence) and as such I will be charged inflated prices and be seen as an outsider. This thought did nonetheless put a smile on my face and I set to work on a 'good points/bad points' table to assess whether I can handle being tagged as a tourist for an entire year.
I have no idea how far I walked yesterday but it certainly was a full trek through Cape Town. I started by heading up into Bo-Kaap, a Muslim neighbourhood up on the on the slopes below the mountain. Small brightly painted and well kept one or two story buildings line the cobbled streets over the undulating hillside. It is quite beautiful.
Having made my trip to the harbour I plodded all the way back into the centre of town and trawled the streets. I headed for Darling Street to see the Old Mutual Building, Africa's first skyscraper. 'Mini-Empire State' springs to mind. I had to see the Art Deco interior but was only able to see the four story entrance hall. Having had a friendly chat with the two security guards who were keen for me to invest in Cape Town, I made a swift exit with my bank balance intact!
A quick word of advice: avoid any shop that is called 'High Fashion'. The window displays were enough to keep me walking and brought back nasty memories of BHS in Putney.
The final part of my walk took me to another part of the city. Vredehoek is a suburb that goes up the hillside below Table Mountain. There are Art Deco buildings all around and at the base of the mountain three cylindrical apartment blocks rise from the ground. They could be hideous 1940s monstrosities but there was something of a Thunderbirds set feel to them. That gets my vote. And then there is the view over Cape Town towards the Atlantic.....
Right come on then. What did Eddie have to eat in Cape Town on his second night? Wrong again! Fajitas in a wee Mexican restaurant of course! A table for one with a large prickly cactus on it sent me into another train of thought. Dining alone. Within moments I had put pen to napkin and was jotting down ideas of how it is perceived if you are brave enough to do so.
And then there was Wilfred. The black African man, about 50 years old I should think, sitting above my chair at the bar turned his bony body around to introduce himself. The handshake had a sticky, greasy feel to it. Was the grey suit shabby-chic or ready for the black bin liner treatment? And then there was the nose... it looked as though he had been struck across the face with a metal rod at some point in his life. We attempted to chat for a while and it was quite bizarre. He insisted that he paid 10 Rands a day to travel 10km to university in Cape Town to study menstruation. What could I say to this? It certainly wasn't a conversation I wanted to pursue with fajita in my hand. When he asked me for money I decided to head back to the Carnival Hostel's bar, carefully avoiding the handshake!
And then there was Paul the insane 41 year old, 5 foot tall chappy who claimed to be from Liverpool. And Juanita who is a local girl who is clearly quite mad and is seeing a therapist. The email address that I gave to her may not be completely accurate. I clearly attract like-minded people! Nonetheless I carried on at the bar until some disgraceful hour with Sonelle, the reception lady, and several other shady types.
Just one more quick thought on the tourist subject.... do you think that I should stop wearing white socks pulled up to my knees with leather trekking sandals? Hmm......
So there I am at about midday sitting in the vast new complex built around the Victoria & Albert Marina. It is a great development with a vast shopping centre and a wide array of different cafes and restaurants. The sky was clear despite this being winter in South Africa and the view through the harbour towards the ocean was breathtaking as I watched a catamaran sailing out towards the shimmering horizon. The time was right for a coffee so I picked a table outside a restaurant overlooking a waterway. And of course a fruit filled crepe goes well with coffee.
And then it dawned on me. I AM A TOURIST! There is no avoiding the fact that no matter where I go I will stand out like a flamingo in a penguin colony ( the pink thing had no relevance to my choosing a flamingo.... this is merely a coincidence) and as such I will be charged inflated prices and be seen as an outsider. This thought did nonetheless put a smile on my face and I set to work on a 'good points/bad points' table to assess whether I can handle being tagged as a tourist for an entire year.
I have no idea how far I walked yesterday but it certainly was a full trek through Cape Town. I started by heading up into Bo-Kaap, a Muslim neighbourhood up on the on the slopes below the mountain. Small brightly painted and well kept one or two story buildings line the cobbled streets over the undulating hillside. It is quite beautiful.
Having made my trip to the harbour I plodded all the way back into the centre of town and trawled the streets. I headed for Darling Street to see the Old Mutual Building, Africa's first skyscraper. 'Mini-Empire State' springs to mind. I had to see the Art Deco interior but was only able to see the four story entrance hall. Having had a friendly chat with the two security guards who were keen for me to invest in Cape Town, I made a swift exit with my bank balance intact!
A quick word of advice: avoid any shop that is called 'High Fashion'. The window displays were enough to keep me walking and brought back nasty memories of BHS in Putney.
The final part of my walk took me to another part of the city. Vredehoek is a suburb that goes up the hillside below Table Mountain. There are Art Deco buildings all around and at the base of the mountain three cylindrical apartment blocks rise from the ground. They could be hideous 1940s monstrosities but there was something of a Thunderbirds set feel to them. That gets my vote. And then there is the view over Cape Town towards the Atlantic.....
Right come on then. What did Eddie have to eat in Cape Town on his second night? Wrong again! Fajitas in a wee Mexican restaurant of course! A table for one with a large prickly cactus on it sent me into another train of thought. Dining alone. Within moments I had put pen to napkin and was jotting down ideas of how it is perceived if you are brave enough to do so.
And then there was Wilfred. The black African man, about 50 years old I should think, sitting above my chair at the bar turned his bony body around to introduce himself. The handshake had a sticky, greasy feel to it. Was the grey suit shabby-chic or ready for the black bin liner treatment? And then there was the nose... it looked as though he had been struck across the face with a metal rod at some point in his life. We attempted to chat for a while and it was quite bizarre. He insisted that he paid 10 Rands a day to travel 10km to university in Cape Town to study menstruation. What could I say to this? It certainly wasn't a conversation I wanted to pursue with fajita in my hand. When he asked me for money I decided to head back to the Carnival Hostel's bar, carefully avoiding the handshake!
And then there was Paul the insane 41 year old, 5 foot tall chappy who claimed to be from Liverpool. And Juanita who is a local girl who is clearly quite mad and is seeing a therapist. The email address that I gave to her may not be completely accurate. I clearly attract like-minded people! Nonetheless I carried on at the bar until some disgraceful hour with Sonelle, the reception lady, and several other shady types.
Just one more quick thought on the tourist subject.... do you think that I should stop wearing white socks pulled up to my knees with leather trekking sandals? Hmm......
Thursday, 24 May 2007
23.05.07 - The Lord Hath Landeth!
There is something about sleeping in public places that makes me feel quite self conscious. Before my eyes close together there is the fear of my jaw dropping open with an almost audible clunk in a similar fashion to Gordon Brown when he gasps for air in the middle of a speech. However during the flight from Doha to Cape Town I was far more paranoid about the manner in which I awoke from my slumber each time.... with a jump and a gasp! On looking around my seat I felt quite confident that noone was noticing... all around me were slumped figures with their faces squashed awkwardly against the Qatar air pillows, some with their tonsils on full view. Well, the one exception was when the air hostess offered a tray of food to me. Somehow she maintained her composure when I jumped out of my chair, no doubt torn from a fascinating dream.
Room No.19 is on the 2nd floor of my hostel on Long Street. It has a bed, a window, a sink and wooden floors. This is backpacker heaven I can tell. And trust me to land myself in one of the best hostels around with its own bar with a terrace overlooking the street. I am definately my mother's son and clearly I have the ability to sense 'FUN' from several thousand miles away!
After several hours of sleep in No. 19 I wend in search of fuel... and how could I say no to a 'kick ass coffee'?! I am not sure if this name is an insight into the process of preparing the coffee or perhaps the effect it has on the brave soul that drinks it. Well, as I was unable to see any four legged ass-like creatures in the vicinity I cannot lay judgment on whether I would have been tempted to kick an ass. I did have a second cup though, brave man that I am.
First thoughts on Cape Town? There is something about it that I love already. There are such contrasts from the architectural influences to the slightly awkward cultural fusion. I think it is a beautiful place, in part because the black locals have been so friendly, but then there is the stunning backdrop of Table Mountain. I shall be exploring, have no doubt!
Any bets on what I ate on my first night? Wrong, wrong wrong. You missed the obvious.... Caribbean! Sweet pork with rice. And a beer. Joy. I sat at the bar on my own in the restaurant and chatted to the African barman about Cape Town. He was so open and happy to talk and shared some insight into life here.
And then it was back to the hostel to check out my local on the floor below No. 19. I can safely say that it was rocking. There was a five piece African funk band (OK that is my interpretation) playing and the whole of the first floor room was packed as they got down to a rather splendid bit of 'jamming'! Within moments I was chatting to the slightly intimidating woman who had been at the reception to give me my room key on my arrival who then insisted on introducing me to an array of random people including a bearded Ben from Ireland who is here to work on a social project in the townships and the dreadlocked, trance-loving Irish barman called Chris. Several drinks followed before I decided that for once I would not be the last one to leave. Two things have stuck in my mind from this wee first day finale:
1. The reception lady initially called me Andrew. Why is it that no matter where I go or who I meet, I can guarantee that someone will catch me by surprise and call me Andrew?!
2. The cheesy comment that gave me a good chuckle and warmed my soul. Reception lady welcomed me with a fantastic line that I will attempt to write with a South African twang:
Room No.19 is on the 2nd floor of my hostel on Long Street. It has a bed, a window, a sink and wooden floors. This is backpacker heaven I can tell. And trust me to land myself in one of the best hostels around with its own bar with a terrace overlooking the street. I am definately my mother's son and clearly I have the ability to sense 'FUN' from several thousand miles away!
After several hours of sleep in No. 19 I wend in search of fuel... and how could I say no to a 'kick ass coffee'?! I am not sure if this name is an insight into the process of preparing the coffee or perhaps the effect it has on the brave soul that drinks it. Well, as I was unable to see any four legged ass-like creatures in the vicinity I cannot lay judgment on whether I would have been tempted to kick an ass. I did have a second cup though, brave man that I am.
First thoughts on Cape Town? There is something about it that I love already. There are such contrasts from the architectural influences to the slightly awkward cultural fusion. I think it is a beautiful place, in part because the black locals have been so friendly, but then there is the stunning backdrop of Table Mountain. I shall be exploring, have no doubt!
Any bets on what I ate on my first night? Wrong, wrong wrong. You missed the obvious.... Caribbean! Sweet pork with rice. And a beer. Joy. I sat at the bar on my own in the restaurant and chatted to the African barman about Cape Town. He was so open and happy to talk and shared some insight into life here.
And then it was back to the hostel to check out my local on the floor below No. 19. I can safely say that it was rocking. There was a five piece African funk band (OK that is my interpretation) playing and the whole of the first floor room was packed as they got down to a rather splendid bit of 'jamming'! Within moments I was chatting to the slightly intimidating woman who had been at the reception to give me my room key on my arrival who then insisted on introducing me to an array of random people including a bearded Ben from Ireland who is here to work on a social project in the townships and the dreadlocked, trance-loving Irish barman called Chris. Several drinks followed before I decided that for once I would not be the last one to leave. Two things have stuck in my mind from this wee first day finale:
1. The reception lady initially called me Andrew. Why is it that no matter where I go or who I meet, I can guarantee that someone will catch me by surprise and call me Andrew?!
2. The cheesy comment that gave me a good chuckle and warmed my soul. Reception lady welcomed me with a fantastic line that I will attempt to write with a South African twang:
"Ah kun tell thut ewe are wun of us..... ah have a gud feeling abbut ewe Edward"
Wednesday, 23 May 2007
22.05.07 - Man Overboard!
Dear friends and family, there is something that I need to share with you. I am in Cape Town. I understand that this may bring a guffaw from your mouth, but it is the truth. If you do not believe me I shall put you in touch with my good father FunGuy who drove me to Heathrow at 6am on Tuesday 22nd May with the sole intention of ensuring that I finally walked out of sight into the departures lounge. I am certain that I heard a loud sigh of relief coming from his direction, no doubt as he realised that he now had a spare room, a Mini with a fat exhaust and that running out of milk and bread is a thing of the past!
Fluttering SHAKES confusion THRILL excitement.... this may sound like the effect of the first tequila of the night, but actually these were a few of the feelings that were running through me as I wandered aimlessly around Heathrow. I was shaking like a leaf (nothing to do with the lack of sleep for 24 hours or the vast vat of coffee my father bought for me)... so I felt that a BLOODY MARY at the seafood bar was needed. I was right.
But the shakes did not go as I sat at Gate 29. So I felt it brewing... the ipod came out... and I had an Oscar Peterson Moment. As 'the jazz' pumped through my ears I chuckled at the irony of the situation I was in. It is like being in a no mans land. And then I realised how miserable everyone looked as they waited to board the plane. Well... if only Oscar could brighten their souls as was mine.
Sorry dad... you were wrong about there being a goat sitting next to me on my 10.50 Qatar flight. Graham is a retired bricky from Wiltshire with large ears and a belly to match who liked to talk sporadically about random points of interest that popped into his head. I cannot confirm that they were interesting because I could not understand a word he was saying, but of course being a polite young chap I attempted to look as though I was hanging on his every word.
At this point I need to thank dear Lucy Reber. Having followed her recommendation I found myself with a copy of the Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, and in the hope that Graham may be content to sit quietly with a can of Heineken I started to turn the pages.... and read them. If you have ever read this book you will realize how poignant it seemed... it set butterflies loose in my stomach and a brought a tear to my eye. Lets just say that I have overcome the four obstacles that Mr Coelho lists. Thank you so much Lucy!
So after a change in Doha I found myself next to a new traveling companion called Pat. Pat has lived in Cape Town for 27 years, but there is no doubt that she has Manchester running through her veins. It is the night now, so we get to work on the g&t and red wine while everyone else falls to sleep. Can I just say that Qatar Airways is fantastic.... so friendly, they keep on serving meals to remind us what time of day it is and the booze is free.
At the end of the day I am up in the clouds far away.... I am sure that most of you will see this as being quite normal for me. However I assure you that this is the first time that I have been strapped in between two wings somewhere over Africa with a Pat on one side of me, a gin and tonic in front of me and Peggy Lee stretching her vocal chords in my ears.......
At the end of the day I am up in the clouds far away.... I am sure that most of you will see this as being quite normal for me. However I assure you that this is the first time that I have been strapped in between two wings somewhere over Africa with a Pat on one side of me, a gin and tonic in front of me and Peggy Lee stretching her vocal chords in my ears.......
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