Be safe, wear a helmet

"The secret is out, cycling is cool". In my opinion, Levi’s has hit the nail on the head. Cycling is cool. Yes my friends, I, the reformed anti-cyclist am here to tell you that it is. “Not in that poser kind of way. Not in that hipster, part-time model, I’m-wearing-a-vest-but-also-a-beanie type of way”. Brilliant.

This is coming from the person that once swore she’d never cycle again. One summer on holiday in Canada, I had a fairly traumatic incident whereby I received a strict telling off by my father after point blank refusing to cycle up a hill. The hill was gigantic.  But here I am, 15 years later writing about how cool cycling is. Life’s weird.

I tell you what makes it even cooler -and that is if you are lucky enough to have Leonard (Leo) from AWOL tours as your guide.

Leo is that rare ‘tour guide’ that encompasses all that is pretty damn perfect if what you’re looking for is a fun day out; he oozes cool and professionalism at the same time, he is chilled out yet eager, he adds snippets of interesting history but doesn’t drown you with relentless facts, and is uninhibited yet remains permanently safety conscious. It was only Emma & I on our cycle so we had vaguely more say as to what we wanted out of the trip (Bo Kaap and city centre, but no gardens please). To be honest we should have just kept our mouths shut and let Leo do his thing because he was great at it. He guided us all around the city with ease and we never felt anything but comfortable under his direction. Oh and the gardens were fab. 

I should probably add that (and this is coming from a very unexperienced cyclist) Cape Town can be pretty hectic and cycling through it’s bustling, beautiful streets is not for the faint hearted. Nine times out of ten you’ll have no problems whatsoever but here’s a few tips to keep you safe and happy: 1)always keep to left, 2)please oh please stop at Stop streets and 3)be on full alert for crazy taxi drivers, old people strolling around (always a hazard) and take-no-shit commuters. One more thing -do as your mother always taught you -look both ways before crossing the street. But let me tell you something, with Leo you’ll have no problems -he’s a very vigilant guy. The man seems to have eyes in the back of his head while his arm determinedly gestures to signal to drivers where he is headed next.

Cape Town is the kind of city that makes you want to explore. It makes you want to see everything, do everything, be everywhere. Next time you have such an urge, may I strongly suggest you opt for the saddle instead of the ever so frequently used walking shoes. I have attempted (successfully I hope) to not sound like a saleswoman trying to flog off a new product, but what I leave you with is this -cycling is just as good exercise as walking, plus you get around quicker and you won’t be up against car guards, traffic or petrol prices. You may have a tender bum instead of feet but you’ll have experienced and seen far more in a short time and will have well and truly caught the cycle bug. Here’s hoping.

Cape Town -it sure is one Mother of a city

So the lovely Emma Savitt has joined me in Cape Town for a week of relaxation and fun after her 3 week Ugandan escapades. She has slept in a mixed dorm with mice as roommates and goat shit as a carpet so it was time for a bit of luxury Cape Town style.

Being relatively new to the city myself, I was determined to explore and see for myself what everyone raves about. Only having been here for only 4 days and I can truly see what the hype is about. Cape Town manages to maintain that perfect balance of beauty and functionality. Table Mountain stands tall and proud while the city beneath it bustles with energy and sophisticated vibes.

We have rented a sweet little apartment in Tamboerskloof, up in the hills; it can only be a bonus that we are forced to walk up steep hills every day? Hmm, perhaps. We have our own rooms and bathrooms and share a lovely living room and kitchen. Tamboerskloof is far enough away from the centre of town that its peaceful and quiet but near enough that we can easily walk.

Even better, we have probably the best view of Table Mountain in the entire city. But why would we simply marvel at it from the comfort of our balcony? Of course we should walk up it.(Skeptical expression on face).

“If I  lived here, I would walk up Table Mountain every week, it would be such great exercise”, Emma declared this morning. My response was typical of someone who hates the monotonous-scenery-all-the-same walks (regardless of how beautiful Table Mountain is), “I will never walk up it again”. I should probably mention that Emma is at the height of fitness and loves these types of walks. I on the other hand am not un-fit per se but definitely not at my prime, and while I didn’t hate the walk by any means, I would happily not endure it again. 

We had decided to do the most common route, which the internet deemed ‘steep and demanding in parts’. Well let me tell you something -it was steep and demanding full stop. You were forced to incessantly look at the ground so as to not trip on the steep stone steps. So in reality, enjoying the view as you ascended wasn’t really an attainable goal. I was proud of us when we finally reached the top, having walked up 700m in quite cold & windy conditions. Pat on the back indeed.

The next morning was sunny and warm so we headed out early and made our way to the V&A waterfront to have coffee at the quayside. The waterfront is undeniably lovely but a bit too touristy for my liking and I doubt you’d catch many Captonians there. We moved on to touristy spot 2 of the day, Green Market Square where we picked up a few wonderfully tacky knickknacks before watching the world go by at a coffee shop in the square. My melon & ginger smoothie was to die for until I idiotically left it for 10 minutes where it had steeped and basically burnt my mouth when I went for the next sip. Back to the apartment for a bit of a chill before supper at Neighbourhood, a trendy and moody-lit restaurant & bar on Long Street.

Day 3. Wet and cold. “It’s bloody freezing” (I think I’ve heard that a total of a hundred times already from my cold blooded sister). No time to hang around though, so we warmed up with coffee at Knead on Kloof Street before heavenly Thai massages at Ruan Thai Spa on Long Street. My masseuse, Nim was an absolute delight and almost had a stroke when I slipped in a cheeky, “sawatdeekah” and  “Phoot Thai mai dai” (hello and I don’t speak Thai. Before long, our faces were shoved in the ever uncomfortable massage table hole (that doesn’t sound very elegant) and Nim and her friend were clambering all over us, kneading muscles that I didn’t even know I had. At one point, Emma was bent over, her lady wrapped around her like a Koala Bear, clearly misconstruing her faces of ‘fuck this is painful’ as pleasure. She found it highly amusing when Emma said that the ‘blue marks on her legs’ were a result of her “falling down a lot”.

We spent a happy afternoon strolling down Long Street, going in to pretty much every antique or vintage shop and sweet little boutique (of which there were plenty). As we all know, shopping is exhausting stuff, so rye bread sandwiches at Yours Truly was a must; it's an enchanting little coffee shop with complimentary sayings strewn across it's walls, and even a barber chair and flower stalls at it’s entrance.

The problem with Man

I was reading the news this morning and I read a very interesting article about the upcoming BBC documentary on the WW2 concentration camp, Treblinka. It is being aired tonight (Monday 13th August)and I really hope to watch it somehow. It tells the story of the two remaining survivors of Treblinka who, in order to survive, worked for the Nazis during the Holocaust and in a last moment of bravery, managed to escape.

I am not going to express a lengthy opinion of the unmistakable atrocities we all know were apparent during the Holocaust of World War II nor am I going to attempt to answer my own questions; ‘What made these young Germans partake in the horrific eradication of a race?’ and ‘Was it due to an intrinsic element of personality or was it merely manipulative coercion from a very ominous and convincing individual?’.

It is not a secret that from the beginning of time, man has always been at ‘war’ in some form; if we look back in history we will comprehend that there has continually been periods of fighting, battle and genocide. I suppose we can reason with ourselves that everyone on this planet is different, every race holds its own ethics and beliefs, so in what stretch of the imagination can we be so naive as to wonder why populations of humans don’t ‘get along’? A sad fact of life is that until earth ceases to exist this will probably always be the case. Even currently, I am being told of a South African civil war that is seemingly imminent between the Xhosas and Zulus. Apparently, both groups are striving to slowly eradicate the other. It seems that man will continue to fight for what is ‘his’.

What strikes me as disconcerting though is that we humans, who are scientifically considered a the most intelligent creatures on the planet, fail to learn from our mistakes. Of course there is always going to be conflict between groups of people; I think we can all agree that that is a given. But my question is, why haven’t we learned to deal with this hostility in  more civilized way? Or if we can not go as far as civilized, how about at least non-violent? I am in no way a preacher of peace nor one of those people who prays that the world will one day be harmonious. All I can say is that I find it worrying that we don’t seem to be capable of finding other methods to resolve conflict.

But then again, who am I? What do I know? I fully realise that I am just a 23 year old pondering alternatives. What is most likely is that I am failing to understand that perhaps violence and war are in fact the only options left.

The Red Coffee Pot

One of my absolute favourite pastimes is unexpectedly coming across a quaint little shop or cafe. I find it really special when you walk through the threshold and immediately sense that the place you have entered is very ‘you’ and that you will leave with memories of it. 

We had such luck yesterday afternoon in Calitzdorp, at The Red Coffee Pot Coffee Shop & Restaurant (quite a mouthful to say in hindsight). Calitzdorp is a quaint little town in the Klein Karoo of the Western Cape and in such towns, you are bound to find gems like The Red Coffee Pot. 

Owner Ockie Calitz was warm and inviting and it wasn’t long before we were being taken on a little tour of the 18th Century farm house. I adore vintage pieces, especially appliances and furniture and this place certainly didn’t let me down in that respect. The dining room contained little antique tables with cheerful table cloths; the old Aga-styled stove warming the room. 

Outside were more tables with mismatched chairs in bright and wonderfully garish, conflicting colours. At the back of the garden stood a beautiful and stoic looking building which we were told was an original Jewish shop, erected by one of the many families that had settled in the area years back.

It wasn’t long before we had been brought out a pot of steaming coffee which was placed on a tea-light inside a sweet Asian dish to keep warm. So while the sun still shone, we drank our coffee outside and chattered effortlessly with Ockie and his partner. Before we knew it, the sun had set, the African heat had rapidly disappeared and dusk had fallen over the peaceful garden. 

Expecting more ‘home-cooked’ food than fine dining, we were more than pleasantly surprised when our food arrived and what was placed in front of us looked more like something you would expect in a classy restaurant than in a quaint, small town eatery. Rog was soon devouring his slowly braised lamb shank (which fell off the bone with a small nudge of his fork) and I happily got going on my chicken breast stuffed (I’m not sure I care for that word; it wasn’t stuffed, it was elegantly filled) with feta and wilted spinach. Both our meats were served with velvety mashed potato, carrots & beans and each forkful was better than the last. 

It is this captivating entrepreneurship that we are seeing more and more during our trip and it is really pleasing to experience it first hand. A recurrent theme that is also becoming more evident by the day is the importance of socialism in these small towns. It saddens me that we continue to find at least one or two ‘drankwinkels’/bottle stores in every town and to grasp the fact that while alcohol is largely consumed in social situations in the western world, in South Africa it appears to be a way of escaping boredom and avoiding unemployment.

What strikes me as fascinating however is that whenever we have come across a cafe or coffee shop in a tiny village or town, people relish in the healthy and friendly atmosphere and appear to love the excuse to socialise with locals as opposed to sitting outside drinking in the middle of the day. I’m not professing that a cafe is going to end alcoholism but maybe it could be a start? 

It seems to me that it works along the same lines as a youth centre; children have a safe place to go and they are statistically less likely to become involved in crime. Adults have an approachable and appealing place to go and surely they will be more likely to buy a cup of coffee and chat with their friends than sit on the side of the road with a beer? Lets hope so.