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.