The flight from Hong Kong wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. My seat was on the middle aisle, not so good for sleeping when I need to be either leaning against something or flat. Oh well. It also didn’t bode well, that when I got to my seat there was a 3-year old, Chinese girl sitting in my seat. Great, an aisle and a child. Egads.

Once the girl got to sleep it wasn’t so bad. And since our flight left at about midnight she was out pretty quick. The rest of the flight I had more problems with the parents than with the girl. I wasn’t too happy when Mum decided to use the arm rest on my right as her pillow, giving me almost no space. Grrrrr.

Sleep was off an on. I could get comfortable for about 30 minutes at a time, so sleep tended to be in 20 minute increments. However, I managed those 20-30 minute increments for close to 10 hours. So right now, other than feeling a little stunned, I don’t feel anything like what I anticipated.

As we got closer to landing, the little girl starting playing with me. Which was kind of fun, if a little weird. She kept speaking to me in Chinese and I just kept making faces at her. We had all kinds of fun playing with the footrest bar and making the video screens lean in different directions. Who says you can’t communicate.

The plane landed and the pilot announced that it was -2 c. Thank God I put that warm jumper in my backpack. Otherwise I’d be wearing just a t-shirt and jeans. The plane was parked out from the terminal, so to de-plane we had to walk down stairs and catch a bus. That was rather miserably cold.

Immigration/customs went pretty fast. Upon getting my bag, I had a porter walk me from the international arrivals terminal to the domestic departures terminal. Luckily he understood why I asked where the ATM’s were located and agreed to take his tip in Singapore currency. He was a nice enough walking companion that I didn’t feel ripped off.

Now I just sit here at the internet cafe, killing time till my final flight. Soon I shall find coffee and maybe take something to get rid of the killer, stabbing pain that just started in my left temple. Oh and to put another layer of clothing on. It is even cold inside. Damn winter.

 

I arrived in Cape Town a few minutes late. Seemed like our plane was on the runway in Jo’burg forever. After collecting my bag, I proceeded out of the baggage area to find my taxi driver holding up a sign with my name. My first time to ever have something like that. The driver was very friendly and immediately started asking 100 questions. At first he assumed that I was Australian (I’ve been getting a lot of that), when I corrected him to say that I was from Texas, he was shocked. He said “they must be getting skinnier in Texas, because you are the second skinny Texan I’ve had this month. In December I had a fat Texan that broke a seat in my van.” I guess I was flattered. On the drive to the guest house he pointed out all kinds of things along the way. And we continued to have weird conversations. At one point he said, “I assume you are a democrat, based on the way you are dressed. Rewpublicans come off the planes dressed up and wearing high heels. They also don’t like to talk. They just order my where to go and spend lots of money.” That of course led to a discussion on who the next President would be. His bet was Obama, “because the US won’t be ready for a female for another 100 years. Here in South Africa, we are preparing for a female leader. Americans are too backwards for that.” The conversation then turned to religion. His definition of the difference between a born-again Christian and a regular Christian is the amount of prayer. His mother, a born-again, prays morning and night. He, a regular Christian, prays when he remembers, “unless I get too drunk and pass out.”

After checking into the beautiful guest house, and showering, I was off to Table Mountain. WOW! Man was it gorgeous. I was even wandering around the top with members of the English rugby team. The day was cool, but very clear. The view out over the Cape was just amazing. And the cable car ride up and down, wasn’t even frightening to someone like me who is scared of heights.

After the mountain, it was down to the waterfront area. With only 1-2 hours before things closed down, there wasn’t a lot to do. So I chose the aquarium. After first going through and identifying all recent species I’ve had in sushi form, I settled in and had a great time.

After the aquarium, it was on to the crafts market. There I found a great shirt for a father’s day gift and a Christmas gift for my Uncle. Lots more gifts would have been purchased, but I was running out of cash and needed to pace myself on the shopping. So I forced myself to leave before going to all the booths.

From there I just wandered around the waterfront. After about 10 minutes, a guy was offering a harbour tour for 40 rand. There were others already on the boat, and since I had nothing better to do, I handed over the money. The boat was a steam powered boat that went slow and slower. I could have swam our route faster, but I wouldn’t have had the comedic commentary. We even saw several seals during our short 30 minute tour.

When the tour was finished, it was starting to get dark, so I decided it was time to find a taxi back to the guest house. On the way to the taxi I happened upon a group of men singing, dancing and selling cd’s. I would have purchased on of the CD’s, had I more cash. They were really good, and a lot of fun to watch.

Dinner was at a little Portuguese/Italian place around the corner from where I was staying. The glass of wine I ordered, was about 2.5 servings in any other country I’ve been too. The food was good too.

With the long plane rides, wandering around, 2 large glasses of wine, it was 8:30 pm and I was out for the night.

Today, tour Robben Island. It is the prison that Nelson Mandela was in. After that???? Maybe the cheesy hop-on hop-off bus tour of the city.

One thing is certain. I need a lot more time in this city. It is beautiful and there is a lot to do.

I am killing time until I go to the airport and fly back to Johannesburg. Luckily there is an internet cafe near my guest house. I think today and tomorrow will be some of my last internet access for the next few weeks.

Yesterday was amazing. The tour of Robben Island was something I hope to never forget. It starts with a ferry ride, about 45 minutes to get from Cape Town to the island. Once on the island, you board buses for the first half of the tour. On the bus, they take you around most of the island and tell you the history of the island. It first started being used as a prison in the 1600’s, was used as a naval base in WWII and then was used to house political prisoners during Apartheid (what it is most known for now). Towards the end of the bus tour, you spend 10-15 minutes in the limestone quarry where many of the political prisoners laboured (including Mandela). In the quarry is a 7 metre deep cave that the prisoners used to eat their meals and educate each other. Within the prison community there were two types of prisoners, criminals and political prisoners. The educated political prisoners believed in teaching their fellow inmates, criminal or uneducated political prisoners. This was not allowed by the prison administration, so they had to hide. The cave was one of two places that was commonly used for teaching purposes.

The bus tour ended in front of the maximum security section of the prison. As our guide finished the tour, he asked us to tell others to come visit South Africa and learn what happened so that it would never happen again.

After getting off the bus, we were then met by our next tour guide. He would be taking us on the tour of the prison. He started by telling us that when he was young he planned and executed a bombing of a ministry building. No one was killed, but there were 57 minor injuries. For his crime, he was sentenced to 18 years at Robben Island. He spoke of this without remorse and without pride, just as an event that happened in his life. From there he took us into his former cellblock and the room where he spent his incarceration. We sat around the long room and he told us about his years there. First he explained the early years, when prisoners were categorised by their race Bantu (blacks) or coloured/Asian. Depending on their race they were treated differently. The Bantu were only given shorts and light weight shirts as their uniform for most of the year (it gets pretty cold here in the winter). They were also given different blankets and different meals. Bantu were not allowed bread - bread was white man’s food and they weren’t good enough to eat white man’s food.

As the world became more aware of Apartheid, and the prison, the prison system was forced to change. They were eventually given the same clothing, same food, and were given actual beds, not just floor mats.

Our guide then went on to tell us about the time his father was to come visit him. His father was shot 8 times and remains in a wheelchair, just because his son was a political activist. At this point the guide also told us about the torture he had received on capture, broken ribs, cigarette burns to his genitals, etc. His torturers were the same ones that shot his father. They were given amnesty for testimony they later provided and are currently living as very wealthy men. This was one of two times that our guide became choked up.

Our guide also told us more of how the education system worked in the prison. The motto was “each one, teach one”. In the later days of the prison, many of the inmates were able to earn uni degrees. The reason that they were educated in prison by the other inmates was so that once Apartheid ended, they would be educated enough to help run the new government. There are a few current public ministers that were in the same cell block with our guide. He showed us the bathroom that they used at night to teach each other. He explained how they rigged the intercoms so that the wardens could not hear them.

The prison tour ended with seeing Nelson Mandela’s cell. When our guide spoke of Mandela, and how he was around the prison, how he worked the system, was the second time that our guide choked up.

As our tour ended, our guide again asked us to tell others to visit South Africa, learn about what happened so that it never happens again. It was all very moving.

Well, it is time for me to go get my taxi to the airport. And I didn’t even get to write about the Township I saw and learned about. Yesterday was quite the educational day.

After the tour of Robben Island, I caught the last hop-on hop-off bus. I chose the route that didn’t include much of what I’d already seen in Cape Town. This bus, went out of Cape Town to Hout Bay and then along the Atlantic coast back into Cape Town. The tour itself was mostly unremarkable. As it was the last bus of the day, I could not get off unless we got to a sight early and had to wait, just in case someone else got on. For most of the tour I was the only one of the bus.

Just past the half-way point, we passed a township. The tour guide started to explain that the township was meant to hold about 2000, but today has grown to about 16,000 people. There are a few permanent structures and homes, but most are the tin shacks associated with most townships. The township itself was at the bottom of a mountain, but you can see the shacks growing up the mountain side as the township expands. At the designated tour stop, we had someone to pickup. Had I caught an earlier bus, I would have had the option of actually touring the township. Instead, I had to hear the experience of the German woman who toured it instead. She didn’t say much, expect how warm and welcoming the people were. A shock, since the people have no jobs, little or no income, no electricity, and live in abject poverty.

The previous day at the crafts centre, I had seen a booth that was selling art made out of used tea bags. The art was created by women living in a township. It turned out that the tea bag project came out of that township. A woman came up with the idea of taking used tea bags, painting them with African designs and then turning them into everyday objects that people use. They are then sold as coasters, notecards, notebooks, jewelry cases, etc. The money then goes back to the women in the township. And the objects that they make are quite beautiful. Luckily, after my tour finished, the craft centre was open for 15 more minutes and I was able to purchase some of the great items I had seen the night before.

I am now in the backpackers in Johannesburg and have caught up with the group from Austin. They’re all a bit jet lagged, having just arrived today. Tomorrow we have to get up at 6 am, breakfast at 6:30 and then leave for the airport at 7. From there we are in Malawi for 2 full weeks. It is still a bit surreal feeling, but I am looking forward to the adventure.

I will miss all the great South African wine I’ve found.