Cape Town Capers – Making The Most Of The Mother Of All Cities

Only the people who suffer from negativity, boredom, frustration, or resentment are the sufferers. It is, therefore, not worth the space it takes up in our minds or emotions. Here we were in the City, rated among the world’s top ten. We were going to squeeze every drop of juice from this lemon. Bring on the tequila, we agreed.

One morning, Anna kindly invited me to hike one of Table Mountain's many routes before her holiday. We started near the Cable Car, sharing a moment of local connection and awe at the splendid views of the City, harbour, Atlantic Seaboard, Lion’s Head, and the Gondolas. She shared her favourite spots to meditate and catch her breath, fostering a sense of belonging and curiosity among the audience.

Invigorated and feeling chuffed, I set off solo a few days later to walk the Promenade. Passing through gardens, the candy-striped lighthouse, and Camps Bay, I wanted to share how accessible and diverse Cape Town’s outdoor activities are. Short walks, art, parks, and coffee spots invite everyone to enjoy them and to feel motivated to explore.

The promenade is a favourite meeting point for friends, walking groups, couples and older people accompanied by carers. Children run or rollerblade; young people on skateboards or foot scooters parade and exercise. If you’re like me, a bum on a bench is perfectly fine too. Watch the world go by as the tide ebbs and flows around you.

Being a pensioner in Cape Town has its perks, we discovered. Yep, that’s right. Numerous interesting places offer pensioner discounts on various days. With my persuasion and the promise that we’d walk, Butch agreed to accompany me to the Zeitz Mocca Museum in the recently developed Silo district of the Waterfront.

It reminded me of spending the day at the Tate Modern in London with my son, Jaco, which sparked my interest in and enjoyment of the gallery. The inventive use of abandoned silos and architectural ingenuity create a distinctive space for African art, making the experience memorable and inspiring for visitors.

Boeing had already signalled that we could sit down with a drink. To enjoy views of Cape Town’s harbour, the dockyards, and the Waterfront, there was no better place than a rooftop bar. Unfortunately for us, the Silo Hotel (our first choice) was undergoing renovations, but we had other options. We enjoyed the views, a drink, and a delicious pizza at the Radisson Red Hotel.

The Victoria and Albert Waterfront offers something for everyone. For those who enjoy shopping, it is a Mecca for every taste, budget, and whim. I love boats, so there are a million pictures of ships in every shape, form, and size. The fact that the harbour is still very much a working harbour delights me.

I often tell people that I’m sure one could enjoy three meals a day at a different coffee shop, bistro, restaurant, market or bar for a year, and one wouldn’t even get through the list. Last week, it was reported that three new Mexican restaurants had opened, and we enjoyed a meal at just one of them in Green Point.

Long Street remains one of my favourite haunts to explore, to dig up an antique, to find a book, or to peruse vintage garments long out of fashion. This time I shopped with my eyes and camera. The future of shopping for spoils will be on the back burner for a very long time. Nevertheless, the morning spent dawdling in and out of shops, enjoying a strong coffee at one of many eateries, felt like being a tourist. Church Street is another favourite not to be missed, and so is Kloof Street. I had run out of time.

Another of my forays took me to browse old books, first maps of Africa and manuscripts, in the National Library, where students quietly read, study and make notes. The smell of old paper lingers in the silence, while ghosts of stories, history or diamond deals fill the air.

At St George's Cathedral, I solemnly paid homage to one of my heroes, Desmond Tutu, whose ashes lie there, covered by a plaque bearing his name. Whispered prayers from worshippers kneeling in the cool darkness calm me and restore me, reminding me that we are never forgotten in my mother's prayers.

I needed a slow, quiet meander through the Company Gardens, which, like an old dowager who has lost some of her beauty, is a tad jaded and has an air of neglect, yet still offers walkers, the weary or the down and out, a place to recuperate on a bench. The ancient trees, pergolas and shrubbery are a welcome relief on a sweltering day. All was forgiven once I’d sipped my Earl Grey tea and tucked into a delicious Apple Crumble. My waitress was a delight, with her witty remarks and interest in where I come from and where I am off to next. She loved my hat and hoped I’d be back soon.

Refreshed, I walked and found the rascal (now very much persona non grata), Cecil John Rhodes, still standing there, pointing north! He seems old-fashioned and out of place now. Could he be redundant?

On the pavement, I stopped to browse an older man’s charcoal sketches depicting life in an informal settlement. The artist’s expressive pictures were touching, and as I drew closer to study the highly detailed landscapes of village life, we struck up a brief conversation. He was a font of information, which he shared enthusiastically. At another time, I certainly wouldn’t have left without a rolled-up picture tucked under my arm, and I have this niggling feeling that I’ve missed out. He agreed without hesitation that I could take his picture.

In defiance, I sat on the wooden bench marked “Non-Whites Only”. One of two benches flanking the imposing wooden doors at the High Court Civil Annex, where, during apartheid, people of “dubious” race had to report for classification. Thankfully, children, students, tourists, and adults like me can go there now, as the groups I saw, who learn and are informed about the inexcusable horrors of our past.

Butch and I attended a screening of Where the Crawdads Sing, our first film date night since COVID. We crunched our popcorn, slurped Diet Coke from paper cups, and got stiff necks from watching a giant screen again. It was tremendous, and we did it all again to see Elvis.

On a miserable Sunday evening, we braved wet, slippery cobblestones to queue for a curry at Indian Curry Bazaar in the City Centre. While waiting to wash my hands, I asked, in true Anna style, what the chap next to me was having. In broken English, he explained, not fully understanding me, but getting that I was a tourist from Mexico, so I ordered.

After three mouthfuls, Butch and I swapped. He had my HOT noodle-and-vegetable dish while I tackled his Biryani. I enjoyed the atmosphere, and Butch loved the bill! Locals and regulars enjoy affordable Indian street food here, and it’s on our doorstep.

We had something larney, decadent and far pricier for dessert on Beach Road, Mouille Point. Another successful date night done!

Our favourite times were undoubtedly spent with Liam, our grandson extraordinaire. He wooed us with his charm and the devotion he showed us. We listened to his garbled stories, long and exciting as they were. Butch and I were under his spell when we first heard him at first light, when he woke. We watched and rewatched Peppa Pig, George and his Mum a gazillion times. Getting me to rendezvous with him in our secret place to watch helicopters take off and land on YouTube didn’t take much convincing; I followed willingly, like a lamb to the slaughter.

We read stories and admired his collection of trucks, Porches (he’s besotted with them), bunnies and train sets. Suppers were loud and boisterous; we’d sit down with him and enjoy the last minutes before routines set in. Bath time was one of our favourite times. We’d all quieten down, relax and unwind before bedtime. My favourite time was sitting on his mat with one of his favourite books, him curled up on my lap with Bunny and a dummy. Often our singsong voices were soothing. He settled and dozed, nestling ever closer until he slept soundly. That’s when the entire house sighed, relieved that the day was done.

We accompanied him and his favourite human, Misha, to school on our last day, joined by Boetie Promise, who walked the two Standard Poodles. The mystery of the early start to school became clear. He inspected, admired and commented on every motor car, whether passing or stationary. He is well-known in the community, and greeting passersby took time. His initial resistance to attending school was soon forgotten when he spotted his cousins. Without a backward glance, he sprinted off. Happy as Larry.

I hope I'll always be his Misha. Although we might not be around for a while, we know we're leaving him in good hands.

During our sojourn in Cape Town, we had the chance to meet friends and family. Supper with Mark, my brother, was exceptional. We dined in his beautiful home, in the kitchen garden, at his reading table, on three mismatched vintage chairs. On our laps were my Granny’s starched table napkins, three ancient plates, and Ouma’s silver cutlery. We laughed and shed a few tears, discussed technical matters that might arise while we’re away, dusted some skeletons, and raised topics customarily left for the family luncheon at Christmas, when everyone’s slightly tipsy! We were sober and could laugh. Instead of using Uber, Mark ferried us home, lengthening our time together before the inevitable goodbyes. If we don’t see you through the week, we’ll see you through the window (of my camera’s lens and blogs)

Being in Cape Town made seeing friends easy, and at the drop of a hat, we’d drop our tools and hightail it to any venue to meet up. We enjoyed the company of special friends at Sotanos, lingering over courses and coffee long into the afternoon as we celebrated the Bride! With Lorraine, we revisited the iconic La Perla in Sea Point, where we chatted up a storm, sharing experiences, hopes and dreams for the future.

Butch and I joined my fabulous friend Juanita for breakfast at the refurbished Winchester Mansions before they dashed off to their engagements. An hour with Juanita is like a month in therapy, and she lifts my spirits with her positive, honest and authentic attitude to life. My stories are peppered with experiences we’ve shared and anecdotes she’s liberally shared with us. To know her is to love her.

When a best friend calls to suggest lunch, you drop everything and go in a heartbeat. That’s how important and special an invitation is. We’d recently been to Stellenbosch, but we’re always eager to try new places. Steve’s recommendations are always spot on. Italian cuisine ticked all my boxes, and my lamb ragu complemented the flavours of my starter, a bean soup. The baked custard was deliziosa. The cosy, family-run Pane E Vino Food and Wine Bar was the perfect setting for this “last luncheon” before we set off. Butch picked Steve’s brain for any tips, advice and suggestions for our forthcoming trip to the Richtersveld. The hand-drawn map on the menu will accompany us on our travels.

No Italian meal is complete without a visit to the local gelato shop on Church Street. As we licked our cones, we watched pretty students and their handsome partners, dressed in party finery, being photographed before the party. We had to smile. While we were decked out in scarves and spencers, these young gals wore strappy dresses with scooped necklines, high slits in the skirts, and bare backs. Not a goosebump in sight.

For a quick lunch one day, we took someone’s suggestion to visit the Japanese Sushi Bar in a shopping centre in Sea Point. Unfortunately, I can’t recall the name. Not my strong suit. We did enjoy our meal.

The apartment we stayed in was conveniently located within walking distance of most of the places we visited and frequented. With a Woolies Food store on the corner, a bakery next door, and a Korean restaurant a few doors down, we had to go there too. It suited us perfectly during the frequent bouts of load-shedding we were experiencing. I was disappointed with the Korean restaurant. The drinks at the Grand Beach Bar were a treat, especially with such good company. The cosmopolitan atmosphere reminded me of my childhood holidays in Maputo. At the table next to us was a group of guys from Chad. We went all out Mexican for supper and enjoyed a tapas-style meal. Green Point buzzes at night. 

Our explorations were just the tip of the iceberg; there are hundreds of alternatives to keep the whole family happy. I loved the poster of David; I'm sure it'll make you smile too. Keep an eye out for street art; I found art and artists in the most unusual places. 

All good things end, and so did our stay in Cape Town. We’d done everything on our wish list, Butch had ticked off his to-do list, and we were ready to fetch the Honey Badger, which had been idling for ages. It was time to move on, and we’d both had enough of city life.