| My mind was numbed by a state
of extreme tiredness and expectation. The arrival at Jo’berg airport, en route to
Cape Town, assailed my fragile senses. The whole place was very warm and sultry, seething
with porters carrying baggage here and there. Outside, the streets were bustling with
activity. It all seemed a far cry from the long ten hour flight, those American movies (my
daughter watched three of them during the night) and the routine wheeling out of airline
food and drink. Here we were at last in Africa. It still seemed like a dream. A casual
entry in a draw at work and then, less than a month later, on route to South Africa and
its most fabulous city Cape Town. We were assigned a porter to carry our baggage around to
the internal flight desk and very soon we were on our way. Two hours later over Cape Town
the views were breathtaking . The city sprawls in every direction with its tallest
buildings hugging the coast and the most famous feature, Table Mountain, rising moodily
into a curtain of cloud. We were soon on our way from the Airport, travelling along the N2 towards Cape Town. We had been met by the hotel transfer mini bus and had now met our first friends; two elderly ladies who we later called the auntie's. They were really friendly and extremely keen on cricket. They soon realised our cricket knowledge was zero and I had to admit we had won the tickets in a raffle. They talked all the way to the hotel about cricket and Cape Town and were very interested in my daughter and her school and hobbies. As they chattered on, my eyes were drawn away to the endless rows of shacks that clung to either side of the motorway. These were indeed appalling conditions for anyone to live. They reminded me of those ramshackle huts and sheds you see on forlorn and bedraggled allotment sites in England. Here they were the same, timbers slanted this way and that, makeshift windows or no windows at all, sheets of polythene on the roofs held down by an assortment of rocks and chunks of concrete. Unlike the allotment sheds with their equal spacing and airy views, here they were cheek by jowl, little space between each one. Mile upon mile of them. Sometimes washing hung on a makeshift line between them. Everywhere rubbish spilled over and onto the motorway boundaries. What a strange world we live in. At home I had left a palace compared to these dwellings. Soon we were off the motorway and driving into the suburbs of Cape Town . Here there were palatial houses, each standing in its own grounds, each individual and grand. As we neared the hotel, the one dominant feature was Table Mountain itself. Its sulking mass rising like some massive leviathan from the heart of the city and dominating its every aspect. Our hotel, the Cullinan, was superlative. We were greeted on arrival by a myriad of porters who ushered us into the extensive marbled foyer with its columns rising to an elevated ceiling. The level of service in the hotel was all consuming. The five star luxury totally decadent! Our room was superb and the views from the window took in some of the expanse of Cape Town and Table mountain. Lisa took to the window alcove and immediately started drawing the view. Later, we made our way down to the pool and basked in the summer sunshine and warmth - this is the life, yes give me more of it! In the late afternoon we called a taxi and made our way to the Waterfront area. We travelled everywhere around Cape Town using taxis or the Hotel’s mini bus. The staff had assured us it was safe to walk around the area during the day but taxis were cheap and convenient. The Hotel staff would always call one for us. No sooner had they made the call the taxi would arrive and Hotel staff would open the doors and off we would go. The cost to the Waterfront was about twenty Rand - that’s about £2.00. If the Hotel transport was available it was six Rand each. The Waterfront was a modern construction built within the old Victorian wharves that harked back to Cape Town’s murky past. A past of busy commerce in slaves and goods from the heart of the African continent. Now it sported tasteful high class indoor shopping outlets and a myriad of eating out places which spilled out into the harbour area. The shops were filled with wonderful African crafts and souvenirs. We spent hours wandering around and then stopped at a Café/Bar for an early meal, soaking up the views across the sea. In the evening we discovered a hidden corner where people sat on a terrace, enjoying meals and drinks whilst gazing out over the harbour. A group played old cover songs and we watched in admiration as the bar staff mixed the most amazing cocktails while serving countless others with drinks. The place was called Quay Four. There is always one place on a holiday you tend to gravitate back to and this was it; we liked the ambience of Quay Four and it was always busy with countless tourists and residents. |