On the last day in Idube I picked up a nasty little man flu which was probably my own fault derived from sticking my head into multiple breakfast buffets.
My stomach is reaching out for salvation as it always does when we travel. Lynda calls it ‘The Ledge’ whereby my tummy extends to the point I can rest a cup of tea on it.
Anyway we had a two hour drive to Kruger International Airport where I bought every pill that had anything to offer in the cure of man flu and devoured them.
It was then a three hour flight to Cape Town, one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Fortunately the plane drops enough altitude to take in the mountainous approach to the city and to Table Mountain and Lion’s Head.
The hotel we are staying at, The Southern Sun is situated between the CBD and V&A Waterfront so we headed to the Waterfont for much needed exercise.
We verged a bit off course as per usual and bumped into a homeless man named Ranier. He was in his mid thirties, well spoken and had been on the streets for fifteen years.
His battles that led him to this point had come from within his family upbringing but he wasn’t complaining and provided some great insights into those who have fallen through the cracks in Cape Town.
He offered to walk ahead of us so as to I think, firstly make it clear that he wouldn’t rob us and secondly if it made us uncomfortable walking with a dishevelled man. I made it very clear that we were both happy to walk with him.
He receives approximately AUS$37 a month from the government to live on. The rest of the time he sells heart stickers he receives from the Secret Love Project, which is a charity that provides free heart stickers for the homeless.
We bought a packet of the hearts for AUS$2 then gave him some money to pay for a week in a hostel where he can get a bed and shower. He was so helpful and ensured we avoided any ‘sketchy’ parts of the walk to the Waterfront.
Up until now we could have been excused for thinking that apartheid was still in operation. Johannesburg contained third world conditions for its non-white population and although Kruger was up-market, the menial tasks were all taken by blacks.
That’s not the case in Cape Town. It was quite a shock to suddenly see well healed black people dominating the hotel’s restaurant and surrounds.
This was even more prevalent at the Waterfront where there is another Chadstone-like shopping set up with all the big brand names.
The views of Table Mountain are obviously the highlight. I never got sick of seeing Mt Wellington in Hobart when I lived there and this has the same aura, perhaps even more.
I bought myself a retro Springboks jersey. I love the design and colours. Also the fact that they are four time world cup winners allows me, as a Saints tragic, just for a moment to feel what it’s like to be a winner.
Some photos from the day.
The One and Only is the modestly named hotel for the filthy rich. We thought we could take a short cut through there but to no avail. Security soon noticed we weren’t carrying any brand of note and were devoid of collagen. Entry forbidden.
The Waterfront is very busy and contains a huge marketplace where people sell their own art, crafts and jewellery.
The DHL Stadium is the new home of rugby union and The Springboks, nestled nicely next to the Atlantic Ocean and holds fifty five thousand fans.
A couple of final shots. Cape Town for all its beauty still houses almost one and a half million black residents in shanty towns such as these Lynda photographed on the way from the airport.
