Wandering!

I've discovered that my favorite pastime in a foreign city is to simply pick a direction and walk until I return to where I started or my feet cease to function. Yesterday morning I set out from a delicious breakfast at a local artsy-fartsy cafe (think Subeez) and turned right. Inasmuch as Cape Town has its share of desperate poverty, I resolved to correct my course should I wander into any injurious neighborhoods... yet no such thing happened. Instead I found yet another thing I hadn't expected to see in Africa...

California. Each block further up a grinding hill took me deeper into ridiculous luxury, glorious and ostentatious homes ensconced happily in palm trees and sculpted terraces. The weather was merely warm rather than infernal, perhaps 25 degrees, and a merciful wind reminded me that Cape Town is not the blast furnace I've grown accustomed to in Gabs. In climate, landscape, and conspicuous consumption, it's outright eerie... standing in the posh suburb of Tamberskloef, it was easy to believe I'd wandered into upscale San Francisco.

My camera, however, had not forgotten that I'd attempted to nourish it with no-name batteries bought Botswanan suburbs, and quit in protest after fewer than five minutes of function. The glorious Table Mountain that was drawing closer was abruptly off limits, as the gentle breeze accelerated to the 60km/hr brutality of the beloved "Cape Doctor". So I wandered back down the hill, replenished my camera at an upscale little shopping mall called The Garden, and found myself at the hostel without delay.

The air of relaxation overwhelmed me. I sat on the hostel balcony, overlooking snazzy Long St, and enjoyed the fruits of my early wanderings through the neighborhood's dozen used bookstores, in this case Richard Morgan's Broken Angels. After napping/reading for an hour or so, I noted that another, less windswept hill was but a short walk from the hostel. Heading towards it in the slowly setting sun, I failed to realize that there were marked paths and roads, and simply climbed up the immediately available steep side, through african thorn brush and swarms of leaping lizards. Arriving at the top after a sweaty, grimy, half-hour, I discovered full-fledged tourist infrastructure, including snack stands, paved roads, and people who were far better rested and less covered in burrs.

No matter... the view was extraordinary. My photos will have to wait until I return to Gabs, but though Signal hill is but a third the height of nearby Table mountain, it afforded an extraordinary panorama of the endless Atlantic, dotted with landmarks like Robben Island and Cape Town's sparkling waterfront. Table Mountain itself has an endless waterfall of cloud flowing over its summit and vanishing before striking ground, an extraordinary effect. A ludicrously tempting path led from Signal Hill up to impressive Lion's Head mountain, but darkness was encroaching and I retreated after an hour lounging and exploring the hill...

Whoops, gotta run. I'm heading to Nelson Mandela's prison cell in twenty minutes, followed by a tour of the Waterfront. After that, I'll take another shot at Lion's Head... you'll hear more soon.