Cape Town, City and (Wine) Country
Whenever people would like to keep their remarks about
certain places short and sweet, they’ll say this place is okay, great, cool,
add any adjective here. The Americans commonly use nice, as in a nice city, country, etc. There are certainly many
nice cities on every continent. A few I would call great. There are only a
handful I would actually call special. Cape Town is one of those places.
Regardless of what your motives were before coming here—mine
were to be Joe Tourist, like anybody—you can’t help but be a little in awe of
the place after a few days. The tourist attractions aside, simply look at the
region itself. That’s quite a coastline they have, which goes on for miles,
including through the very heart of the city. The suburbs are nice (sure, let’s
use the word here), but hardly overdeveloped. The coasts turn wilder in the direction
of the cape. So Cal almost to a ‘t’. And sometimes So Cal wishes it were Cape
Town.
We are reminded of this when we tour Cape Town from a double decker bus—red, naturally. Of course, the kids want to be on top. Sure thing. They both fall asleep ten minutes into the tour. Must be the tour itself, although we certainly get our money’s worth. Now consider this: with all of Cape Town’s brilliance, it certainly wasn’t without her (the Mother City) blunders.
There are the engineers who couldn’t build the tunnels high enough for the vessels passing through, something that remained undiscovered until the grand day of the opening of the channels themselves. Robben Island had been evacuated during World War 2—here the British were to build an elaborate underground bunker for the war effort that included long range guns supposedly installed to keep the Germans at bay. A capital idea, one that required efficiency and consolidated manpower. The fortress on Robben Island was also completed, in the year 1947…which would be two years after World War II ended.
These are interesting and funny facts, for sure. For the kids, it’s like a cup of warm milk: zzzzzzzzzzz.
From the coast we head through downtown before making our way around Table Mountain and into Constantia. Known as wine country to tourists, the locals simply refer to it as a ‘suburb’. In Cape Town, the red bus tour calls this the purple line, with stops at three wineries. Pretty good ones, too. Oh, I am sure I could have found better wineries than these, the locals would argue, but that would have meant driving. See the problem? Wine tasting? Liebi and I can finally do one of these, even if that means we get a sunburn later from sitting on the top of that double decker.
There is one winery we visit—withholding the name; they sure don’t need me to advertise for them—that charged us 45 bucks for wine tasting, cheese, ham and bread platters, plus six bottles of very good white wines. Did I say this place was affordable? You can be a cool city without gouging the herds of tourists who have come to visit your nice city. But we won’t name names here. Of course we will. New York, London, Paris, come on down. Join Singapore, Tokyo and Sidney.
On our way back from the winery, Liebi goes shopping on the waterfront while I take the boys out to Green Point, a gorgeous part of Cape Town with dozens of playgrounds along the coast. We venture a little too close to the docks, which is a foolish decision on my part. Bash slips and slides in his crocs, and I need to grab him and keep him away from the railings. At a safe distance, we let the big waves crash against the walls and eventually on us. The kids are psyched, even before I take them on the Ferris Wheel along the Waterfront.
All right, enough already. That’s all I will write and gush about Cape Town. It is what it is. A very special city.
We are reminded of this when we tour Cape Town from a double decker bus—red, naturally. Of course, the kids want to be on top. Sure thing. They both fall asleep ten minutes into the tour. Must be the tour itself, although we certainly get our money’s worth. Now consider this: with all of Cape Town’s brilliance, it certainly wasn’t without her (the Mother City) blunders.
There are the engineers who couldn’t build the tunnels high enough for the vessels passing through, something that remained undiscovered until the grand day of the opening of the channels themselves. Robben Island had been evacuated during World War 2—here the British were to build an elaborate underground bunker for the war effort that included long range guns supposedly installed to keep the Germans at bay. A capital idea, one that required efficiency and consolidated manpower. The fortress on Robben Island was also completed, in the year 1947…which would be two years after World War II ended.
These are interesting and funny facts, for sure. For the kids, it’s like a cup of warm milk: zzzzzzzzzzz.
From the coast we head through downtown before making our way around Table Mountain and into Constantia. Known as wine country to tourists, the locals simply refer to it as a ‘suburb’. In Cape Town, the red bus tour calls this the purple line, with stops at three wineries. Pretty good ones, too. Oh, I am sure I could have found better wineries than these, the locals would argue, but that would have meant driving. See the problem? Wine tasting? Liebi and I can finally do one of these, even if that means we get a sunburn later from sitting on the top of that double decker.
There is one winery we visit—withholding the name; they sure don’t need me to advertise for them—that charged us 45 bucks for wine tasting, cheese, ham and bread platters, plus six bottles of very good white wines. Did I say this place was affordable? You can be a cool city without gouging the herds of tourists who have come to visit your nice city. But we won’t name names here. Of course we will. New York, London, Paris, come on down. Join Singapore, Tokyo and Sidney.
On our way back from the winery, Liebi goes shopping on the waterfront while I take the boys out to Green Point, a gorgeous part of Cape Town with dozens of playgrounds along the coast. We venture a little too close to the docks, which is a foolish decision on my part. Bash slips and slides in his crocs, and I need to grab him and keep him away from the railings. At a safe distance, we let the big waves crash against the walls and eventually on us. The kids are psyched, even before I take them on the Ferris Wheel along the Waterfront.
All right, enough already. That’s all I will write and gush about Cape Town. It is what it is. A very special city.
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