Cidade de Cabo

Cape Town.

This is my destination for Christmas. A few months ago I gently suggested to the family that remaining in Southern Africa, where it is summer, might be preferable to a long journey towards the greyness of Staffordshire in December. They accepted the logic and issued my free pass but couldn’t be tempted themselves, so I’ll try again in future years to lure them to a scenic locale in warm weather. In any event it is generally a good idea for me to avoid the UK during this election cooling off period, to limit opportunities for political arguments, which I’m almost 100% certain to have in the UK.

I know a couple of old work pals who went to live in Cape Town, but other than that I don’t particularly want or need an agenda or intense company. I’ve had a stressful year of work and will be satisfied by sitting brainlessly near nice vistas. Appreciating nice vistas is one of the main draws of the Cape region and there is simply so much to do that I think I’ll be wowed around every corner. I’ve never visited this region before as I’ve always been confined to north-eastern parts of South Africa.

At Johannesburg airport I supped a latte from a café which was either Brazilian or Portuguese, based on the lingo splashed all over the decor. I avoided the ‘espresso lemonade’ as it sounded foul. ‘Happy Christmas’ beamed the server, but she was at a loss when I threw in some Portuguese with my reply. On the plane a Brazilian family was on the row behind and I realised outfoxing someone who doesn’t speak Portuguese is one thing, but there’s a long way to go on this language journey. I’ll double down with Duolingo over Christmas. I did laugh when the youngest child of the family, who was no older than three, played the song Sweet But Psycho, which is about a girl in a relationship who shows all sides of her personality, good and bad. It’s catchy and I’ve been known to have it on my playlist, but it’s perhaps rather adult for a pre-schooler.

South African Airways receives a lot of criticism for being constantly loss-making. For the Johannesburg to Cape Town route the pilot announced excitedly that this was the first journey being undertaken in a particular type of aircraft. This held little interest except for any aerospace engineers on board. When the flight proceeded to be delayed due to ‘paperwork’ and lost baggage, any traces of enthusiasm well and truly evaporated. The airline wanted to take the opportunity to apologise for the inconvenience caused. Everyone just wanted to get on with the journey and when we did it was interesting to see the interior of South Africa as an arid mosaic of yellows, browns and oranges.

Cape Town is one of the iconic cities of the world and I’ve been very excited to arrive. Not one to sit back and miss the chance of a dystopian micro-analysis, the city does provide much food for thought. The starkness of the wealth and poverty side by side was striking in the city centre downtown area. There is complete and utter destitution here, metres from luxurious hotels. The bird’s eye view had highlighted the different neighbourhoods and the drive through the suburbs had shown the vast sprawl of people living in very basic circumstances, whilst flamingos picked around the trash that filled urban creeks. It feels like the divisions are even more pronounced than in Rio as the steep hillsides and more enveloping forests there hide the shame of the urban poverty more effectively.

As the weather is so changeable, Cape Town simultaneously manages to look like 1) a Scottish town on an island with fog blanketing down from the hills above and 2) a sun-bleached city in the Mediterranean with beautiful light bouncing off buildings.

I had to find food and somewhere to buy a few things for tomorrow, so I headed to the Waterfront, which I believe holds lots of historic interest as South Africa’s oldest harbour. The Waterfront is quite like the Trafford Centre in Manchester but with more palm trees. Being in a shopping centre thirty minutes before closing time on the evening before Christmas provides the same experience wherever you are: tempers fray on car parks and the scents from Lush creep into the brain’s neurons as you walk past the shop front.

During the shuttle ride back to the hotel, the suffering in Cape Town was obvious in shop doorways and at junctions. I saw a woman weighed down by carrying possessions on her back, pausing on a pedestrian crossing, looking completely lost. People with work they view to be stressful crave tranquility of mind and I often seek the chance to wander aimlessly. People with no safe place to turn would crave the stability of having a job and the luxury to wander aimlessly at a time of their choosing. We don’t know how lucky we are. I hope that lady found a safe place to bed down for Christmas night.