Good Hope

It takes almost a week for Lina’s stomach bug to bugger off. Our friend Antjie nurses her back to health with charcoal capsules and bovril on toast (like marmite but not disgusting). She cooks hearty South African food and Ben digs in, knowing that soon the time will come where he can’t just eat three portions no questions asked. He takes out the invalid for a little stroll up a hill and together we watch planes taking off from the airport. Next week we will be sitting on one of these.

When Lina finally feels a little better Antjie takes us on a drive around the wine farms, the university town of Stellenbosch and down to the sea where the cliffs fall straight into the ocean. The road cuts into their flanks and you can see where it will probably wash away during the next rainy season. We just catch a glimpse of the Cape peninsula on the other side of the bay. On our way to downtown Cape Town Antjie locks the car as we drive past the airport. Hijacking is unfortunately a common problem in this area.

Cape Town is like a microcosm of the whole country. You have the crème de la crème of fancy schmancies participating in Porsche parades on a Sunday and discussing how the new fireplace will really elevate the dining room to the next level. But when you cross the bridge next to their golf course you will find shantytowns stretching as far as the eye can see. The lives of the people here are if anything harder than in east Africa.

Many come to South Africa from Malawi or Zimbabwe seeking any kind of economic opportunity but often find themselves hitting a glass ceiling as an Uber driver. Sadly plenty end up in the streets of downtown Cape Town or by the train tracks addicted to crystal meth. The city just can’t create enough jobs for all these people.

We are staying in a hotel in the city center for a couple of nights to see this part of town and hopefully do some shopping. The walk from the hotel to the harbor isn’t far, so we leave the bikes behind and set out on foot. The skyscrapers tower over us, almost blocking out the sky. We feel a bit trapped after so many months of being in nature. We pick up the walking pace, also to escape the rather persistent beggars and cross a bridge to the gentrified seaside.

The harbor front can only be described as hectic. Hundreds of people stroll about, bands are playing and screeching seagulls preside over the mayhem. We try to find some clothes at the mall, but it’s all a bit overwhelming and we quickly seek refuge in a Lego store. By the time we find our way out of the mall it has gotten dark. On the way back to our hotel we cross another bridge and slip back into Gotham city. Homeless guys dig through rubbish bins, run from security guards and light fires in the sewers. Mercifully they don’t bother us and we get through without Batman’s help.

The following morning Ben gets up very early to go on a guided hike up Table Mountain. Lina, still not in shape to move much, will take the cable car later and meet him at the top. When she gets to the station, the line of people extends all the way to the car park. Wait time: 2 hours, an employee proclaims as Lina goes to buy a ticket. She quickly decides on a fast track ticket to skip the queue. After all it’s only 6 euros and she wonders why everyone else is so stingy. When she gets to the top and tells Ben about her “bargain” he just stares at her. Turns out 1100 rand is 60 euros and not 6 🙈.

The longer we stay in the city the more we get the vibe that it’s a paradise for influencers. We hike past lots of shirtless men and sports bra-wearing girls. Some fly their drones in the “no drone zone” to capture their toned bods on Table Mountain from all angles. Lina (clad in her old Asian lady attire to hide from the sun) wags her finger at these inconsiderate youngsters. Ben manages to distract her with pictures of the new birds from the hike up. Africa really has made us age… 30 going on 67.

The next day we leave life in the city behind and cycle around the cliffs to Simon’s Town to visit Sarah and Marc. They first messaged us months ago to compliment our iOverlander app check-ins for accomodation in east Africa and invited us to stay with them. On the way to their place we are overtaken by a lot of MAMILs (middle aged men in lycra) and other road cyclists. It’s the last weekend before the Cape Town Cycle Tour and everyone is out training. It’s wondrous to see so many people actually cycling for pleasure, not just to get somewhere like us. Speaking of getting somewhere…

It’s a bright, windless morning and we pedal our way along the coast one more time. The conditions could not be better. There are no cars, no other tourists, just blue sky, as we roll down to the most south westerly point of Africa. We pass a few ostriches on their beach holiday, then the sign comes into view: The Cape of Good Hope. A long long time ago, we can still remember, how we set out from Nairobi with this goal in mind. Now, finally arrived, it doesn’t feel quite as momentous as it should. More like the end of a long holiday than an epic journey.

Still, we get a little emotional sitting on the cliffs above the Cape, listening to the waves and watching other people arrive in cars and taking pictures at the sign. Damn… we did actually cycle here. There is something to that whole “slow and steady” thing. With over 14,000km under our belt, we pat each other on the back, take the valuables out of the panniers and throw the bikes in the ocean. After this we never need to cycle again in our lives… Kidding, of course. Europeans don’t litter!

Now the anticlimactic part starts: Cycling back to our friends (another 40km that don’t even count!), somehow getting back home with a layover in Dubai (thanks Donald) and finally looking for jobs again. We have evaded “real life” for the longest time. It was bound to catch up with us eventually.