CAPE TOWN

Paris has the Eiffel Tower, Rome has the Coliseum. St. Louis has its arches and New York has . . . well, everything. But Cape Town has Table Mountain, perhaps the only urban area with a natural, not man-made icon. Smack in the middle of this gorgeous city is an enormous, 3,000-foot high, black granite mountain, with a completely flat top – hence its name. Lion's Head and Signal Hill are two small, pointy-top mountains that flank it on either side. A climate phenomenon creates low-lying clouds that often cover the table top and roll down to the sea, draping over the mountain’’s sides – and is known as the “tablecloth.” With no time to climb up one of the 300 paths, we took the cable car, which rotates as it ascends, 360 degrees, so that the view is constantly changing.

The view from above will always be remembered.

The enormity and vastness of the table surface hit first as we exited the crowded cable car. We couldn't see to the end of the table. As we made our way to the edge of the surface top, along rock pathways, the view took our breathe away. The sea in all directions, with the city sitting comfortably between the mountain and the water, winding its way all around the base. The fog tablecloth had descended and was sitting just offshore.

We walked around the tabletop for about two hours, with a new surprise at every edge and view overhang. The lawyer in me, no, the AMERICAN in me, was astounded that there were no railings along the table's edges - just like on the gorge's edge in Victoria Falls. Hasn't anyone ever fallen overboard? Don't the authorities on this continent worry about fallen tourists and other litigious souls? How refreshing it is to literally, live on the edge when on Municipal property. We could stare death and daring in the face, with relatively little risk. The adrenaline was pumping.

We reluctantly scurried and left the mountain and its heady view and vast openness to rent
a car and head to the wine country, only one short, traffic-free hour from the center of the city. We had a glorious, lazy, lunch on the patio of a decadent winery, and walked through the very-Litchfield-like town until we headed back to the city for a quick nap.

Dinner was special. We went to a place called “Africa Café,” owned by an Australian and his native wife. There was no menu. Dinner was described as "Communal," and the 16 small dishes represented cuisine from all over Africa. There was Kenyan cocunut chicken, Ethiopian sik sik wat, (don't ask), Xhosa ithanga fritters, Malawi mbatata cheese & sim sim balls, (no, not THAT kind), Moroccan herb salad, and Swaziland pineapple cake with fresh yogurt, to name just a few. We ate from brightly-colored and unmatched ceramics dishes served by natives, dressed in clothing that coordinated with the colors of the dishes, the tablecloths and the walls. Everywhere there was color - African color. The servers sang and danced as they served and the building was a leftover from the Colonial era. It was the freshest, tastiest food I have had in a very long time.

On our second and last full day here we drove about 1 hour away to Cape Point, the southernmost point in Africa and the place where the Indian and Atlantic Oceans meet. The drive was impressive. Miles and miles and miles of just the right amount of winding road, along a very rugged coast on our right and the granite and pink sandstone mountains on our left. It was very similar to the Pacific Coast Highway in California, but the mountains were not as far from the coast and the road was sea level. And this was Africa - not Hollywood! And, there were baboons, ostrich and penquins along the way.

Dinner was back in Cape Town, on the waterfront, outdoors, with heaters, as the South African summer is quickly waning and autumn is setting in.


We are packing now. Our flight home is scheduled to depart at 3 pm.

Goodbye Africa.

REENTRY

We knew we had returned to the modern world immediately upon our arrival to the Johannesburg, South Africa airport, a layover on our way to Cape Town.

We were dazzled by the machine. The 10 large TV screens hanging in a circle in the upper reaches of the domed ceiling of the central hub of the airport were all perfectly coordinated. The pictures on each screen moved like synchronized swimmers, going from faces to toast to warnings about hazardous materials at the exact same instant. Everyone moved at a fast, but not frenzied pace, and with such purpose! The toilets flushed, the lights were bright and the floors, the walls, the countertops all glimmered. The clothes that people wore were clean, not ragged, and their outfits matched. Everyone was wearing shoes, and the shoes fit. And everywhere, as far as the eye could see, were white people. Only the employees – the janitors, the baggage handlers, the check-in clerks behind the airlines counters, were black. But this is a black country. Overwhelmingly black – 40 to 1 black. Where were they all? The employee uniforms were clean, pressed and looked brand new. The employees had a pep in their step and didn’t look bored. They were moving, not sitting. They went out of their way to help us.

Our ride into the city was no less shocking. Road maintenance crews were using bulldozers, backhoes, front-end loaders and earth moving machines, equipment that we haven’t seen in a very long time – and in such numbers. In the “other” Africa, road maintenance crews used only shovels. There was passenger traffic - in both directions - and there were passenger cars, gleaming towers, signs, traffic controls. There was a fast highway, with guardrails, and the city could be seen in the distance.

Hotel check-in was a breeze. The staff (black) was awake, they smiled and sought to carry our bags. The room has a heated bathroom floor, a shower AND a bathtub, a hair dryer and NO mosquito netting.

We fell into bed, anxious to begin our visit tomorrow morning.

AFRICA WINS AGAIN

Nothing is easy in Africa.

We took a taxi (at a cost of $20) to the airport for our flight to Cape Town only to discover upon arrival that our flight was not departing from Livingstone Airport in Zambia, but rather from Victoria Falls Airport in Zimbabwe, just over the nearby border. We made a mad dash by taxi ($30) to the border, where we were dumped with our bags. We signed out of Zambia and grabbed another taxi ($10) through the 2-mile no man’s land between the two countries. We were once again let out of the taxi (with our bags) at the Zim border, signed in to Zimbabwe ($60 for two visas), and then, bags in tow, grabbed yet another taxi to the airport($30). In about 20 minutes, we finally arrived, and barely made it in time for our flight. We were charged for overweight bags ($40), but were at least bumped up to Business Class as all economy seats were taken.

We were starving. But the airport shelves were bare – completely, horribly bare. Except for ½ bottle of scotch and a couple of cans of soda the bar was empty. The “Duty Free” shop had 3 bottles of perfume and a couple of tourist knickknacks – everything, was the same price - $10. Yosy managed to find the only bag of potato chips, apparently in the entire country, in a kiosk that pretended to sell food. It was all they had.

Thank God for Business Class. As the only travelers in the front of the British Airways plane, we were served all kinds of good things – fresh salad, cheese, (CHEESE! Haven’t seen real cheese in 6 weeks), chocolate, crackers, dried fruits. Gourmet dining. Everything tastes so delicious.

But the inconveniences we suffered were all worth it because we saw Victoria Falls (“The Smoke that Thunders”) from the air. The mist was shooting up hundreds of feet into the sky. It was hard to know where the water smoke ended and the clouds began. The Falls are massive, and I now believe that the most powerful thing on earth is water.

We have only 1 ½ hours in Johannesburg to get our luggage, pass through immigration and customs, and make it to our gate for the flight to Cape Town. I’m quickly losing confidence that things will go as planned today.

MONKEYS AND ZEBRAS AND CROCS (Oh My!)

I failed to mention in my last entry, that I did finally venture into the allegedly croc and bilharia-infested Lake Malawi. It was late afternoon and we had spent the day walking up and down the beach. Yosy and I befriended a local vendor (it only cost us a t-shirt) who gave us a private tour of the few villages that sit right on the shore front. We went into homes, had conversations with the locals and even played a few games with the kids. Yosy helped one of the local fisherman pull his boat, a hollowed-out tree trunk, onto land. The villages were spotless. Women actually sweep the sand around their straw huts to get rid of any debris that washes up. I had passed the villages the day before on a late-afternoon jog. As always, Mzungus (white people) are like celebrities. All along my run people waved and children ran to greet me and hold my hand - some even ran along with me for a few hundred feet. When the run was over, I knew I had to return and meet some of these people. Our vendor-cum-tour guide was our entree to their world. These Africans thrive in spite of their governments, who do absolutely nothing for them - they have no water, no sewer, no roads, no sidewalks. There can be as many as 70 kids in one classroom. Healthcare is practically non-existent. But the Kenyans, Ugandans, Rwandans, Tanzanians and Zambians, manage to live, not just exist, despite the failures of their leaders.

Anyway, it was late afternoon and I was so hot. We had an impromptu game of volleyball on the beach and I couldn't take the heat anymore. The lake was calling me. I dove in and swam and swam and swam. The water was quiet and cool. And the crocs were otherwise engaged. As for the bilharzia worm - a simple test and pill will cure that when I get home, if needed.

Two mornings ago someone accidentally left the gate open to the hotel property where we were staying in Lusaka, the capital of Zambia. We had just finished breakfast and were preparing to leave when a small herd of Zebra wandered in and among the camp grounds. We were so close to them we could practically pet them. It was amazing. The night before some monkeys were sitting just outside our door. I was certainly more surprised than they when our paths crossed.

We are now in Livingstone (named for THE Dr. Livingstone, I presume). Victoria Falls are only 2500 feet from our hotel. The Falls are called The Smoke That Thunders in the the local language - and for good reason. In our walk around the Falls today we got drenched. They are so huge (second biggest in the world) that the volume of water produces thick mist - so thick that the Falls are not even visible unless and until there is a break in the mist and the sun shines on them. There is a very wet, slippery path opposite the Falls, across a gorge that is only a few hundred feet from all that falling water. The path runs along the gorge's rim, with no handrails. I cannot believe that some tourist has not slipped and fallen into the whirlpool below. The Falls are huge and wide and go on forever. They span the border of Zambia and Zimbabwe. The path is so close to the Falls that the spray of the water crashing into the gorge creates torrential, unrelenting, unceasing, rain in certain areas. Although we were wearing TWO rain ponchos, we were completely drenched - from head to foot. The smokey mist was so dense, and the roar was so loud we were overwhelmed. Glimpses of the Falls were mesmerizing. We just stood and watched for long stretches of time without moving.

I was very level-handed and mature today. Instead of doing the bungee jump from a bridge that spans the gorge into what is known as the Boiling Pot, below, I opted to do the zip line that goes across the gorge just below the Falls themselves. I was suspended 700 feet above the swirling water, with the thunder echoing from the cliffs, and simply sailed across. There was a perfectly round (yes, round) rainbow just below me, framing the whirlpool. I was terrified at first, but then relaxed and enjoyed the experience, which was quite like sailing in mid-air.

I have been starved for some protein since I've been here, eating no meat and only eggs, every now and then. So, yesterday, for dinner, I had crocodile appetizer. Delicious - it tasted like a cross between chicken and shrimp tempura.

Our hotel is right on the Zambesi River. Our room, with balcony,is gorgeous and although we can see the smoke of the Falls, (which rises hundreds of feet in the air), we can't hear its thunder.

We had a dinner boat ride on the Zambesi and saw some hippos. Ho hum. No big deal anymore to see wildlife. They are all around us - monkeys in the trees above our heads (or on the walkway), large spiders which make their nets in the unlikeliest of places, giraffes only outside the gates, and crocs on the dinner plate.

We are still partying with the group - We are feeling separation anxiety as we prepare to leave tomorrow morning for our flight to Cape Town.

This trip has been magical. I would stay if I didn't have kids, a dog, and bills to pay.

ZAMBIA

We drove 12 hours yesterday from Lilongwe, the capital of Malawi, to the outskirts of Lusaka, the capital of Zambia. It is the first "real" city I've seen in 6 weeks - or more accurately, the city that most resembles a "real" city. There are sidewalks, hi-rises, traffic lights (and traffic) and shopping malls. I feel so civilised. Only 4 more days to Victoria Falls and the end of the overland trip. Yosy and I then fly to Cape Town for 3 days then home.

I can feel that the trip is winding down. And, its very sad.