Charles Apple

So, as promised, I slept in a little later Saturday, ate a big breakfast and then waited for the big “topless” tour bus that ferries folks around the Cape Town area.

I rode a number of these buses throughout the day and I never once saw anyone topless. Or maybe I just misunderstood.

The price is quite reasonable — R120, which is about $15 American. For R200 — about $10 more — you can get a two-day pass that allows you to switch between the two lines: The red line and the blue line.

The buses come around every so often to drop off and pick up riders. You can jump off, catch a nearby tourist attraction and then hop back on the next bus or the one after that. You keep your receipt; that’s your ticket for the day.

Your fare includes a set of headphones that plug into a set of jacks at each seat. With those, you can hear narration explaining the history behind the sites you pass.

The open-ended back of the bus tends to fill up fast. I sat out as much as I could. I didn’t get sunburned again — I remembered to wear a hat this time — but I did get a little wind burned. Nothing a little skin cream can’t take care of.

From the open-topped bus, you get a real sense of the sounds, the smells, the tastes of the city:

Cape Town is very modern, in some places, like the Southern Sun hotel on Strand Street…

…yet still backward in others, like in this streetside curio stand:

And, as always, I kept my eyes open for cool or funny signs to add to my growing collection. Once he left the Island of Misfit Toys, for example, we now know that the Charley in the Box opened a bakery:

I laughed out loud at these two ultra-square white guys entering something called Hip Hop Plaza:

They just don’t seem like the hip-hop type.

We drove past the parliament building, which I had seen last Sunday:

This is St. George’s Cathedral, where Archbishop Desmond Tutu preached for many years:

I met a couple on the bus from Philadelphia who were headed to Table Mountain and were heartbroken over the thick layer of clouds atop the mountain (Click this one for a larger view):

I urged them to try anyway. Table Mountain was shrouded in clouds last Sunday, too, but they were all burned off by the time we made it there.

I hope they got to go there.

—
DISTRICT 6 MUSEUM

I hadn’t really planned to stop there Saturday, but when the tour bus paused and no one got off, I found myself drawn to the unassuming little place:

District 6 was one of the old mixed-race townships, located on the edge of downtown Cape Town. Although very poor, the area was vibrant with homes, apartments, businesses and a huge arts scene.

But then, in 1966, the old apartheid government decided to take away that neighborhood and give it to the whites. Over the next 20 years, blocks were demolished and residents were forcibly removed to outlying areas, far from downtown.

This museum celebrates the original District 6 neighborhood with photos, maps, timelines and living history You’ll want to click on this for a larger view:

The most prominent feature in the museum is the giant map embedded in the floor. It shows the entire neighborhood, labels the various streets and shows them in context with area landmarks that still exist (note the “castle,” the old Dutch fort in the lower left, above).

People who visit the museum — who were themselves removed from District 6 — are given pens with which they’re asked to sign the map on the spot where they lived.

The result is a gigantic living tapestry of history. A sad one. But an important one in the history of this country.

Towering above the map is a collection of street signs various people kept as souvenirs and have donated back to the museum:

Huge exhibits explain details about the District, how it came to be and what was in it (This one, too, is clickable):

Historic artifacts are everywhere, from old apartheid-era signage…

…to a recreation of a typical District 6 home, where the kitchen, dining room and bedroom are all in the same room. Note the fake window to the left:

I found all this to be extremely moving.

Artifacts from local businesses are represented, as well. Here’s a recreation of a slice of a hairdresser’s shop:

The second floor of the museum is built around this giant mural

I’m not certain whether this is a finished piece or a work in progress. Either way, it’s outstanding, capturing lots of little vignettes of life within what was a segregated yet lively slum:

Interestingly for me, newspapers and their coverage of the District and its closure are featured time and time again throughout the museum. I could spend all day reading the clippings and articles posted on the walls:

Much of the coverage was supportive of the apartheid government and not terribly fair to the residents of District 6:

However, the might of the pen was represented in the form of newsletters, pamphlets and small publications advancing the cause of the District 6 residents. Even then, folks knew how to fight back against the “mainstream media”:

Not only is this place a museum, it’s also a research center as well. Various offices are spread out among the exhibits, where curators, historians and educators work to preserve the cultural heritage of District 6.

I was fascinated by the sentiments shown by the researcher in this one office, who apparently drew inspiration from Holocaust survivors:

The folks in the museum are fighting a good fight, but against many odds. The District 6 museum is not well-publicized. When my red-line bus arrived at the museum, I was the only one to get off.

In fact, the other riders seemed surprised I was visiting the museum. Even the tour bus director was taken aback. The museum is closed on Saturdays, he told me. (He was wrong; my guidebook told me it’s open Saturdays but closed on Sundays.)

Admission, by the way, is only 15 Rand, which is less than $2 in U.S. money. I hope all of you Americans planning to visit Cape Town next year for the World Cup will take time to check it out.

After I left the museum and returned to my bus stop, just around the corner, I discovered the downside of the visit: While the area is not a slum, it’s not exactly a wealthy suburb, either. A variety of street beggars approached me time and time again, hoping to talk me out of a few Rand while I fumed over the bus that was running about 20 minutes late.

One gentleman in particular, when it became clear I was ignoring his pleas, proceeded to tell me “you do not appear to be very nice, in my eyes.” He then went on to spit out a number of curses, including telling me he hoped the devil would pay me a visit.

I thought about telling him that I’ve met the devil. I even worked for him, but he laid me off after less than three months on the job. But the old man didn’t seem in the mood for witty banter.

When you climb back on board the bus, you’re shown large stretches of green grassland, not far from the city center where, you’d think, land would be at a premium (Click any of these for a larger view):

You know what that is? That’s District 6. After the nastiness of the forced removal and all the publicity surrounding it, most white residents had no stomach to buy land and move there. Most of the land has sat idle ever since.

—
A LOOK THROUGH THE CITY OF CAPE TOWN

By this time, of course, I had been in Cape Town 13 days, including two full days of sightseeing last weekend. Quite a number of things, I had already seen. So I simply stayed on the bus as we made stop after stop, letting off tourists and taking on others.

Here’s the old Dutch fort — which they call the Castle — with the Victorian-era Town Hall in the background:

I toured the Castle last Sunday. On Saturday mornings, however, the large parking lot between the Castle and City Hall — called the Grand Parade, where soldiers marched and drilled — comes alive with what we’d call a flea market:

I had a strong urge to get off and walk though the vending booths, just to get a flavor of the city. But I wanted to transfer from the red to the blue bus line and reach Haut Bay by lunchtime, so I didn’t.

I planned to dismount at red tour bus stop 11, walk two or three blocks to tour bus stop 4 — which is visited by both red and blue buses — and then take the blue bus around Table Mountain to Hout Bay.

But the driver didn’t even slow down at stop 11. We were at stop 12 — the Jewel Africa stop — before I managed to get anyone’s attention so I could climb off.

Apologetic, the driver took me two blocks further, let me off at an unscheduled stop and gave me careful instructions to turn here at this boat, turn right at the next boat and then follow the curve around the bend until I get to stop No. 7, the Mount Nelson Hotel.

I thanked him but wondered what the hell boats were doing this far away from the waterfront. Until I finally realized he wasn’t saying “boat.” He was saying “‘bot.” As in “robot.” Which is what they call traffic signals here.

In all, I walked maybe nine or ten blocks though a very nice section of town. I was a little frightened, given that I had no idea at all where I was. But I never felt unsafe.

And the city wants visitors to feel safe. I don’t know if you can make out the lettering on this billboard, which I passed on my walking route:

“Ready to welcome the world,” it says, for next year’s World Cup soccer tournament.

The city is sprucing up, improving roads and signage and getting ready for the thousands or perhaps millions who will attend. I think they’ll do a terrific job here.

At one point, I passed a sign for the hotel where my students took me for dessert last Wednesday:

And a few moments later, I passed a movie theater — named for an Italian count, I’m told — where the name of the place struck me as so amusing, I shot a phot of their sign last Sunday:

So suddenly, I felt on familiar ground. Especially when I passed the Southwest end of the Company Gardens, the large park-like botanical garden that runs through the heart of downtown:

I could hang a left here, walk down this path and eventually end up at the Parliament building. If I walk past the library building a few more blocks, I’d end up on the traffic circle between my hotel and the newspaper building.

It’s comforting realizing I would walk “home” from here, if I wish. It was really the first time I’ve found myself forming a good mental map image of Cape Town — the first step to navigating around town on my own.

I had to laugh at this sign, though:

Government Ave. Of course. Just watch out for that intersection of Government Ave. and the Boulevard of Broken Dreams.

At the stop, I met a nice couple of Belgium and a nice man from Ireland. We chatted a while until the red line bus came along. I was left alone again, waiting for the blue line bus that was apparently being driven by a man named Godot.

With all sorts of time on my hands, I began to get creative with the local signage:

Across the street was (reportedly) one of the finest hotels in the city: Howard Johnson’s:

Just kidding. It’s the ultra-swanky Mount Nelson Hotel. You see Lion’s Head in the background.

By noon, the cloud cover around Table Mountain had completely disappeared. I hoped that nice couple from Philly made their way there.

Finally, my bus arrived. We headed around the East side of Table Mountain, taking very sharp curves in a very tall bus. I sure as hell agreed with this sign:

We also passed another huge landmark — or, at least, a huge one in my opinion: The Groote Schuur Hospital, way out on the east side of town. It was here in 1967 that Dr. Christiaan Barnard performed the world’s first successful heart transplant:

The hospital actually has a museum inside, commemorating this event and has restored the operating room to the way it looked on Dec. 2, 1967. I might have to take that tour, should I ever find myself in Cape Town again.

The bus made a stop at the Kirstenbosch National Botanical Gardens, on the back (or South) side of Table Mountain:

I elected not to tour the gardens: I’m not much of a botany kind of guy. I’ve heard some terrific things about this place, however. It, too, goes into my short list for the future.

After additional stops at the World of Birds and the Monkey Jungle — much less kitsch than they sound, by the way, and very worthy causes — the bus made a stop at a very poor township called Imizamo Yetho, to the southwest of Table Mountain near my destination of Hout Bay.

The township was incredibly poor but happy residents everywhere waved to the bus and its occupants. The bus tour company offers side walking tours of the township — escorted, of course — and a visit to a community arts and crafts bazaar that’s open only on weekdays.

Part of the reason for the tour, perhaps, is a big philanthropic initiative in this particular township to build homes so residents can move out of their tiny shacks. It would be fascinating — a little depressing, perhaps, but fascinating — to walk though this township.

As we pulled out for the final few miles to Hout Bay, I was suddenly jolted when I spotted this, off to the right:

Yes, that’s a soccer field. I was at the same exact spot where my traveling companion and I had pulled over for a breath of fresh air almost exactly one week ago!

I hope that’s a new soccer match going on and not the same match we watched briefly last Saturday. Not being a huge soccer fan, I find the matches tend to drag on a loooong time. But this seems a little too long.

What I had missed completely last week, though, is right next to the old, run-down soccer field is this beautiful stable with dozens of gorgeous horses:

Again, I’m seeing extreme poverty living side-by-side with what appears to be wealth and affluence.

South Africa seems like an odd place, at times. Beautiful and friendly. But odd.

—
LUNCH AT HOUT BAY

Hout Bay is nothing short of gorgeous. I fell in love with the place Saturday when we stopped here on our way back from Cape Point.

Hout Bay consists of a beautiful, tiny little village, anchored between a row of mountains and an inlet just off the Atlantic Ocean:

Job one was to find something to eat. I remembered a number of restaurants on the wharf that juts out into the bay. I headed there first…

…only to run into the design director of the newspaper where I’ve been working the past few months, having a nice weekend off with her mother and cousins. I was very glad to meet them all, but I felt guilty intruding on her free time.

I didn’t even take their picture. That was either very polite or very impolite of me.

Rows of gulls lined up on the restaurant roof, hoping to audition for the next Alfred Hitchcock movie remake:

I was taken aback by the menu — what the hell is a Likkerbekkie?

It was of no consequence, of course. I had come for the fish and chips. The R38 you see on the menu translates into about $4.75 American.

I was tempted to try the local favorite, Snoek:

I’m not quite sure what a Snoek is, though, so I played it safe with the fish and chips. You only get one piece of fish, but it’s huge:

You can’t see it here, but there’s a sizable order of fries lurking beneath the fish. I finished my meal still very thirsty but no longer hungry.

I had an hour before the next bus arrived, so I walked around looking for angles to shoot that I didn’t shoot last Saturday afternoon. I believe that’s Chapman’s Peak in the background of this photo:

This mountain, between the bay and the Atlantic, is called the Sentinel:

The tour guide told us that Hout Bay once declared itself independent of South Africa and claimed to be its own country. To commemorate this whimsical fact, the folks at the Mariner’s Wharf issue this faux passport in which every page is a discount coupon:

Roaming around, I found this cute little mom-and-pop food stand on a side road near the wharf. Many times, you’ll find the most interesting stories — and the best food — in these out-of-the-way places.

I had already eaten lunch, but I was in need of another Diet Coke — or Coke Light, as they call them here. I figured I was a tad low in carbs, so I also ordered a very small portion of vanilla ice cream:

Check out the apologetic note, at the bottom of the menu in yellow type. You just have to love the South African form of expression:

Anyone out there looking for a boat cabin? You won’t find this little treasure on Craigslist…

Eventually, it was time to rendezvous with the tour bus and to return to downtown Cape Town. I have to profess a deep love for the little seaside communities of the peninsula, especially Hout Bay.

I have no idea what these two young ladies are selling. Whatever it is, though, I want some:

Back on the bus: Check.
Full of fish n’ chips: Check.
Hat and sunglasses for protection from the sun: Check.
Earphones for the tour narration: Check.

Taking yet another photo of yourself so you’ll have something to post in your blog: Pathetic.

This is truly an upscale community, however. Even the KFC here is high-class:

I was amused by the name of this place and whipped out my camera to shoot a picture of it…

…But then I discovered it’s actually a South African chain of hardware stores.

Brilliant.

—
THE RIDE BACK TO CAPE TOWN

I had enjoyed the ride from Hout Bay to Cape Town last weekend and I had shot a ton of photos. But I wanted to shoot even more this time. Like this one, for instance, that shows Lion’s Head in the distance:

I shot so many pictures so quickly that I began having trouble with the memory card in my Canon Digital Rebel camera.

I noticed that the entire Atlantic coast of the Cape peninsula is very, very rocky:

Rocks sat perched upon other rocks as if they were children’s toys.

In addition, I noticed the sea was very, very rough Saturday. Huge breakers came rolling in from the west…

…piling up taller than a typical house…

And then splashing dozens of feet into the sky when they crashed into the rocks with a gigantic smack:

It’s not until you get very close to the city center of Cape Town that you find wide, sandy beaches like we have back in the U.S.:

The tour guide warned us the water is very very cold, even in mid-summer. But right now — the end of winter and the beginning of spring — the water here is about as cold as it’s going to get.

Despite the rocks and the perennially cold water, rich folks pay a huge premium for the privilege of erecting houses on bluffs high above the streets:

I’m told that many of these folks have elevators and funiculars to help carry furniture, groceries and themselves up the steep hills to their front doors (Click on either for a larger view):

Beautiful stuff. But an interesting contrast to Imizamo Yetho, wouldn’t you say?

—
WRAPPING UP THE DAY AT THE WATERFRONT

The blue line bus tour ended at Cape Town’s Victoria and Albert Waterfront. I had two choices: I could take the next tour of either the red or blue line — both stop at the Westin Grand, just a few blocks away. Or I could simply take the Westin Grand’s free shuttle from the Waterfront to the hotel.

First, though, I thought I’d look around. This was the first time I’d seen the place in broad daylight, and the first time I’d seen it when it was full of people.

The place was packed. And keep in mind: This is late winter. Can you imagine what it’ll be like here come Summer?

My first stop was Nobel Square, where bronze big-headed statues gently caricature South Africa’s four Nobel Peace Prize winners. From left to right: Albert Luthuli, Desmond Tutu, F.W. de Klerk and, of course, Nelson Mandela:

Naturally, I was drawn to Mandela:

He was a lot taller than I thought

I checked out the national Sea Rescue exhibit — they’re the closest thing South Africa has to our Coast Guard. My daughter, Elizabeth, is fascinated with law enforcement and rescue operations, so I’m considering bringing her something from their gift shop.

Everywhere, folks gathered to hear street musicians playing all sorts of music, indigenous and not. This band here, for example, features a guitar, banjo, accordion, saxophone and one guy in the back, wearing native dress playing a native-style drum:

The song they were playing when I took that photo? A very jazzy version of the Beatles’ Hey Jude. Seriously.

Speaking of the Beatles, would you care to guess how many holes it takes to fill this waterfront shopping establishment?

A short distance away, a marimba band called African Dream entertained the crowd with beautiful music as well as an engaging front man/lead singer:

Yeah, this guy had the Mike Love routine down pat…

The vocals sounded terrific, as well. They drew a huge crowd, and deservedly so.

I hadn’t intended to spend quite so much time at the waterfront. But I found myself with a number of errands to run and I discovered the waterfront was the ideal place to do them.

First of all, I needed a new lens cover and a new compact flash memory card for my camera. I found a Kodak store. Check and check.

Secondly, I needed a few stray toiletries. There’s a drug store in the mall. Check.

Elizabeth had asked me to bring her a stuffed tiger. But tigers are indigenous to southern and southeastern Asia, not Africa. There are none here. So I got her a cute lion instead:

I also picked up a few Christmas ornaments for our tree this holiday season:

Less than three bucks apiece, and handmade by artists here. And very cute.

The ornaments, I mean. Not the artists. As far as I know, anyway.

I bought myself a couple of native music CDs — after sampling a few of the other South African groups, I went with one I knew I’d like: Ladysmith Black Mambazo:

There was this cool little music superstore that was selling each for less than 50 Rand. I paid about $12 for the set.

While I was in there, I was amused to note that wherever you go in the workd, really can’t get away from Mylie Cyrus:

Craving more information on the gorgeous geographical features of the area, I bought this nice book:

There is a much, much larger — and nicer — one I’ve seen in the hotel gift shop and in other bookstores. But it’s just too expensive. Perhaps if I ever make it this way again.

And, of course, as I walked through the mall, I found myself delighted with the funny little things you just don’t see in the U.S. For example, I think Crocs are pretty much out of style now. I was surprised to see an entire store devoted to them:

In the U.S., Pic n’ Pay is a chain of shoe stores. Here, with a slight variation in spelling, it’s a giant grocery store, smack in the middle of the mall:

And there was once a U.S. chain of dimestores called F.W. Woolworth’s. The chain shut down years ago, but they converted, in the U.S., to a sports retailer and called themselves Foot Locker.

In certain countries, however — Germany, Austria, Mexico and here in South Africa — Worthworth’s still exists, but in a form very much upscale to their old U.S. image:

Curious, I poked around just a bit. Once you get inside, you’d swear you were in a JC Penney.

By this time, I was overdue for carbs. So I dropped by Spur, my favorite of all the restaurants I’ve visited so far, for another huge steak and beer.

Because I had a bit of a carb deficit, I ordered the cheesecake and cream dessert. I didn’t take any pictures of my steak — because, after all, it looked just like the one I had on Thursday, Aug. 27.

I did shoot my dessert, however:

The best thing about my dessert? The whipped cream. I love whipped cream.

And it can’t hurt me, either. Did you know whipped cream has hardly any carbs at all? That’s because there’s hardly any sugar in it. Even its big ingredient, cream, isn’t all that big. The main ingredient in whipped cream is air.

And, of course, here was the view from my table:

That’s Table Mountain back there, keeping a silent eye on me. Waiting. Watching. Inviting. Protecting.

Making sure I tip properly.

—
A STRANGE, STRANGE END TO MY SATURDAY

Turns out, I needed that protection. My wonderful Saturday came to a close with one of the strangest tales you’ll ever read here. And it’s all true.

As I headed back to the hotel shuttle, I paused a moment to watch a few street performers do their thing. At one point, I glanced over at another of the shoppers to see a very attractive young black woman who closely resembled someone with whom I once worked.

Is that her? How could she possibly be here in Cape Town? I looked a little closer.

She suddenly caught me staring at her. She gave me a huge smile and spoke, breaking my trance. Nope, she was definitely not who I thought she was. I stammered an apology and slinked off.

A few moments later, as I approached the shuttle drop-off point, I got this creepy feeling I was being followed. I looked around to discover the gorgeous girl, trailing behind me. She had chased me across half the waterfront!

I froze, out of shock. She raced up to me, took me by the arm and asked me if I’d take her back to my hotel for coffee or something.

Wow. I’d just been hit on by the most gorgeous prostitute I’d ever seen (not that I’ve seen many, outside of the movies). Amazing.

—
An artist’s depiction of the events of Saturday
evening. Some details may be approximate:

—

I thanked her profusely — mostly for the cheap thrill, but I didn’t tell her that — but told her it was quite impossible for us to spend any time together.

She became fairly insistent. I had to make it clear — over and over again — that my no was quite firm. Before it turned into a repeat of the scene earlier in the day, with the old man outside the District 6 museum, I turned my back on her and quickly walked away.

When I got to my shuttle, I scurried aboard as rapidly as I could, worrying she’d still be right behind me. Luckily, she was nowhere to be seen.

I’ve never had anything like that happen to me before. Ever.

Well, my editorial graphics friends here in town kept urging me to try new things and to sample the local culture. Somehow, I suspect that’s not what they meant, though.

As I swept through the lobby of my hotel, the gorgeous (anyone see a pattern here?) woman at the customer service desk called me by name and asked how everything was going.

Because I’m now entering my third week of residence here, she said, she wanted to do something special for me. So over my protestations that no such gesture was necessary, she sent a bottle of locally-produced wine up to my room for me to enjoy:

I’m not much of a wine guy. But I’ll be glad to give this a try.

—

Let me wrap up the day’s events by going back to that mountain — Table Mountain — if I may…

As my stay here in Cape Town has progressed, I keep thinking of the giant mountain keeping watch over the city. Watching. Waiting. Protecting.

And I’ve become convinced that the mountain is the city.

It’s proud. It’s majestic. It’s gorgeous.

And despite the extreme poverty that still exists in this country and the racial inequities with which they’re still struggling, the residents of this fine land still stand tall. Proud. Majestic. Helpful. Aware of themselves and their place in history and in the world.

Just like the mountain that watches over their city, these proud, fine people of Cape Town will endure. They’ll correct their problems, stare down their demons and they’ll take on the future on their own terms.

All this might not happen overnight. But it’ll happen.

How can I be so sure? Because they are the mountain. And the mountain is them. Together, they’re forever.

…Or, perhaps, that’s just the wine talking.

—
EXPEDITION TO SOUTH AFRICA

You’re reading chapter 18 of my journey to Cape Town, South Africa. Previous installments:

• CHAPTER 1: Preparing for the journey.
  
• CHAPTER 2: I made it as far as the Dulles airport bar
• CHAPTER 3: Getting really bored sitting at Dulles
• CHAPTER 4: Safe and sound in Cape Town
• CHAPTER 5: Day one in Cape Town
  
• CHAPTER 6: Day two; No effects at all from jet lag
• CHAPTER 7: A tour of the Westin Grand
• CHAPTER 8: Dealing with little things like money and electricity
• CHAPTER 9: Thursday night on the Cape Town waterfront
• CHAPTER 10: Ending the work week on a high note
• CHAPTER 11: A Saturday trip to the Cape of Good Hope
• CHAPTER 12: A Sunday visit to Cape Town’s Table Mountain
• CHAPTER 13: The blustery ‘Cape Doctor’ winds arrive
• CHAPTER 14: Making some real progress in our class work
• CHAPTER 15: Giant infographics and a night on the town
• CHAPTER 16: Our last day of infographics class in Cape Town
  
• CHAPTER 17: Looking forward to a weekend of sightseeing

This entry was posted on Sunday, September 6th, 2009 at 12:43 pm and is filed under Charles Apple, Travelogue, Trip to South Africa, Visual ethics. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.