Spending two weeks in South Africa was an incredible, expansive experience that has left me with an interesting problem to sort out: how is it possible to distill such a magnificent, diverse and compelling country into a few blog posts? How do I elevate my impressions to something transcending a tourist’s travelogue? Getting South Africa right—or write—demands much, much more.
As noted in my last post—written while lodged at one of South Africa’s stunning national parks—I concluded I would rather enjoy every minute in this place rather than debit time for writing. It seemed more sensible to relax and enjoy a couple of glasses of wine in the evening on my deck overlooking the wilderness rather than hunch over my i-Pad and knock out a couple dozen graphs.
Up on the rooftop at the Grand Daddy hotel, Ellen and I shared the bar with a gaggle of Virgin Atlantic flight attendants. . .best Mojitos in Cape Town. (This never happened to me when I was single!)
Even my plan to write during our interminable homeward journey was doomed. I lapse into an “airplane fog” whenever I fly internationally, making it nearly possible to focus. Plus, I hate it when anyone sitting next to me can read what is on my screen. So instead, I read “Vertical” Rex Pickett’s follow up to his game changing novel focused on pinot noir. . .”Sideways.”
Now, I am finally back home at Yankee Jims where I am free of any distractions save the annoying, unabated croaking of frogs near the pond adjacent to the house. I have been able to relax and digest what I observed and tasted in South Africa, and even though I’ve been up since 2 a.m., I have come to some conclusions about my trip with my beloved, Ellen.
–Despite numerous ominous warnings about crime in South Africa, I was never concerned about our personal safety—not once—even while exploring Cape Town, a sizeable, racially diverse metropolis of about 3.5 million people. Yet, while in Cape Town, I read a report in the Cape Times about a rash of attacks on tourists in the remote areas of Table Mountain, an impressive, massive barrier between the main commercial area of the city and the Atlantic Ocean. And ever-present door and window bars, coupled with rolling driveway barriers and high stone walls capped with razor wire, did leave me with an unsettled feeling. Were these defensive measures a legitimate carry-over from an unsecure past, or are they a paranoid, encumbrance of the “now”. Perhaps a bit of both, I suspect, but since I have no experience in the region, I’m not in a position to comment with authority.
–It was refreshing to travel in a relatively American-free zone. Perhaps it is because of the lingering stigma of Apartheid or because it takes two freakin’ days to get there, but you don’t see many people flashing U.S. passports in the visitor immigration queues at Cape Town’s airport. Lots of Brits, Dutch and Germans on vacation, but U.S. visitors are as rare as sightings of American cars on the road (there are virtually none since automakers here aren’t keen on accommodating right-hand drive). In my experience traveling internationally, Americans can be rude, loud and demanding. The result is an elevated sense of civility in South Africa because of the absence of my countrymen. . .I kid you not.
We ate our way across South Africa, and this was one of my most memorable moments--at Constantia Oitsig's River Cafe. This sumptuous tasting plate was enough to feed two and cost just $14. The Eagle's Nest Shiraz is widely viewed as South Africa's best expression of the varietal.
–The places I visited in South Africa were clean, mostly modern and inviting. As I mentioned before, this is a beautiful place—akin to one giant national park—and it appears to be anything but a third world nation. Ellen and I traveled nearly 2,500 km in two weeks, covering much of the Western Cape and a bit of the Eastern Cape. My impression is South Africa is focused on improving its infrastructure—especially roads—and it is nurturing its economy during very difficult times. While unemployment is pegged at a staggering 60%, foreclosures are rare and virtually every storefront in every town we passed through is occupied. Though there is clearly a huge economic divide between blacks and white, progress is being made, even in the face of a worldwide meltdown. This impression is tempered by the fact that we did not see Johannesburg, which I understand is not so fortunate.
–When it comes to South Africa’s wine industry, it is clear that American producers could lean much by visiting here. I was absolutely blown away by the sophistication, elegance, design and maintenance of winery facilities, tasting rooms, public spaces and remarkable vineyards. The ability here to combine luxury accommodations, fine dining restaurants and world class tasting experiences is unparalleled anywhere I have ever visited. More about this in detail in a post later this week.
Sum it all up, and I came away from South Africa as a huge fan. Sign me up as an ambassador, because I would love to find a way to return and tour and taste my way across this brilliant place. A month would be nice.
At the risk of grinding this subject into the ground, I am going to do three more posts before the South African wine tasting I’ll be hosting on February 19th. Most importantly, I’ll be talking about the wines, which I found on balance to be wonderful and affordable. I’ll give you insight into the places where Ellen and I stayed—from the historic to the offbeat. Finally, you’ll get a peek at some of the national parks we explored and an up-close look at the magnificent beasts that roam wild.
If you find this of interest, be sure to make reservations for my South African tasting on February 19th at 5:30 when we’ll taste six wines paired with a couple of S.A.-influenced appetizers. Just $25++ per person; call 530-823-0320 to make reservations.
It’s raining in Africa.
Just chillin' at happy hour at the Wilderness National Park.
Somehow, that just doesn’t seem right. Here we are, on vacation in one of the most arid places on the planet, and it is raining in the Wilderness National Forest, situated on the edge of the Indian Ocean.
We spent the night in a log cabin suspended on stilts above a natural wetland that looks as though it could be the Florida Everglades except for the fact that we’re hemmed in on two sides by low costal mountains.
Yesterday, we spent most of the day on the N2, also known as the “Garden Route,” because it courses through South Africa’s prime agricultural belt across the bottom of the country. Though much of this boundless place is parched beige, there are giant, verdant patches of corn fields and pasture for sheep, ostrich and cows. . .made possible thanks to strategic irrigation.
Though along the way we have seen compact tracts of shanty towns–desperate ghettos of jobless poor who live in tiny structures cobbled together from scraps of corrugated metal and salvaged material of all types–for the most part this does not feel like a third world country. Quite the contrary, you get the sense that progress is being made here in a place that the rampant, global economic meltdown appears to have bypassed.
The road is absolutely excellent, smooth and wide, embracing high speeds. After two days unleashed on the roads in South Africa, I am finally comfortable driving on the left, though I carefully negotiate each turn and lane change thoughtfully. It’s become clear to me that even at 60, this challenge is making me a better driver. Alan Beardon, our host here with his wife, Toni, cautions me, however, that my real challenge will come after I return home. He says that is when I’ll need to exercise true caution because I could easily find myself on the wrong side of the road back in California.
The view from the deck of our log cabin on stilts in the Wilderness National Park.
This wildlife refuge is just an overnight stop on our 800 km trip to Addo Elephant National Park not far from Port Elizabeth in the Eastern Cape. We’re all excited about the prospect of viewing herds of these giant animals in their natural habitat instead of through bars.
Truth is, though, I’m still a city boy at heart. Our cabin abuts a small stream and a vast marshy area, where no doubt countless numbers of slithering creatures make their home. Before going to bed, above my protests, Ellen insisted on keeping one window open, even though there are bird nests all around the building.
In the middle of the night–1:45 a.m. to be exact–I heard a scratching sound near the window. “Ellen, there’s something in the room,” I whispered. “No there isn’t,” she groaned. And, of course, there was complete silence except for the chatty house martins in the eaves. It took hours for me to fall back asleep.
We’ve caught up here with the Beardons who are traveling in another car and have brought along their mathematics colleague, David, who is here for an extended stay to work on a text book with Alan that will be published in England by Cambridge Press. David’s wife, Susan, arrived in time from Cincinnati to make our tour of wildlife preserves.
Life is sweet. . .Ellen and I enjoyed a beautiful picnic lunch on the grounds of a beautiful winery called Constantia Oitsig, not far from our home base near Cape Town.
At times, coordinating three couples is akin to herding cats, but we carry on with Toni as our cruise director. For dinner during our evening in Wilderness, we ate at Sails, a restaurant in a hotel overlooking the beach. A young man named Lennox is our “waitron,” coined by some well meaning, politically-correct nudnick with the aim of creating a gender-neutral title for restaurant wait staff.
I told Lennox that in America we use the title “server,” and he seemed a bit offended for his American brothers and sisters in hospitality.
For R 79, about $12, the three males in the party ordered “eat-all-you-can” pork ribs, which were actually quite nice except for the way the meat was cut. . .tiny bones were a nuisance at the tip of the rack. We each ate two helpings, a smoking’ deal in any currency, especially for such tasty, smoky barbecue.
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Ellen gets a big hug from Alan Beardon with his wife, Toni. Ellen lived for a year with the Beardons in Canterbury, England, starting when she was 12 years old. She had not seen them since returning home in 1967.
What, What. . .here we are on the ground in Fish Hoek, South Africa, a former fishing hamlet on False Bay, situated 45 minutes from the bottom of continental Africa, or very close, anyway. The actual southern-most part of Africa is a bit west of here.
After landing in Cape Town on a blazingly sunny Sunday morning, our hosts, Toni and Alan Beardon, met us at the airport where we picked up our rental car, a Renault Clio. . .roomy enough, but a bit anemic under the hood. . .ah, bonnet.
Since driving here requires use of the left lanes as in the United Kingdom, Alan drove us to their apartment, er. . .flat, perched on a mountainside above Fish Hoek Bay. Remarkably, through the wall of window in their living room you can see the Atlantic Ocean, and by turning your head oh, so slightly, you can view an expanse of the Indian Ocean on the right. Between the seas is an incredible vista of cloud-shrouded mountains and the comfy village the Beardons call home for six months each year. 
“Retired” professors from Cambridge University, this pair of mathematics savants are volunteers at A.I.M.S., an innovative incubator for advanced mathematics instruction for teachers from across Africa.
We unpacked while Toni prepared lunch, which we enjoyed in their “stoop,” a sort of sitting room with a magnificent window of their adopted, part-time homeland. Then, after a shower and change of clothes, we were off on our first tour– a 45-minute drive to the Cape of Good Hope and Point Cape in the Table Mountain National Park (“A Park For All, Forever).
Read More Post a comment (3)If you detest airports, may I suggest you avoid London’s Heathrow. This is the most passenger-unfriendly of any aerodrome on the planet. Ellen and I faced a nine-hour layover here during our trip to Cape Town, South Africa, which extended the time of this odyssey to truly monumental proportions. Cumulatively. the three flight segments and the London Layover will result in total transit time of 35 hours. . .I think.. .it’s hard to be sure after passing through so many time zones.
The main problem with Heathrow is the place is mammoth. The distances that must be traversed on foot between the gates and terminals are simply ridiculous. And, from an aesthetics perspective, this place is a monochromatic wasteland, devoid of sense or style or visual relief. You are required to navigate miles of bland corridors, void of color and sound. . .all you see are the backs of other travelers hurtling to their next gate or the inevitable collision with Immigration and Customs at the border.
The single blessing of our forced encampment at Heathrow was a reservation for six-hours in a Yotel “cabin”. Yotel is a unique hostel modeled after economy rooms designed for Japanese businesspeople. It is a 100-square-foot room with a double, hospital-style bed that retracts to create more space. On the far side is a glass enclosed compartment for an all-in-one lavatory, sink and shower. There is a built-in television, drop-down desk and a folding chair hanging in a slot in the wall. The room’s electronic controller offers six different lighting choices, including violet uplighting above the wall opposite the bed.
Heathrow is one of a number of Yotels being installed at major airports around the world, and this one is in the bowels of Terminal 4. At about 1 p.m., checked in at a window at a very minimalist entrance and were directed to our cabin down a dimly lit passageway reminiscent of a nuclear submarine. We retracted the bed and went to sleep almost immediately. . .after I checked my email using Yotel;s WiFi.
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In little more than two weeks—after nearly a year of gestation—I’ll be embarking on the trip of a lifetime to Cape Town, South Africa. Over the past week, I’ve begun in earnest to learn more about this exotic destination, as well as commenced making contacts with wineries in regions with engaging names such as Constantia, Franschhoek and Stellenbosch.
South Africa is lumped into the “New World” of wine producing countries, along with relative newcomers to the pursuit—the United States, Australia, New Zealand, Chile and Argentina. Yet the first dumented vintage of wine was crushed in what is now Constantia in 1659 by an early settler named Jan van Riebeeck. That’s a legacy dating back 352 years, hardly “new’, but still not in the same ancient, “Old World” class as Italy and France.
Cape Town is the largest, southern-most metropolis on the African continent, and it is a long, long ride from Sacramento. Flying time is nearly 24 hours, and when you factor in a nine-hour layover at Heathrow in London, this is not a trip for the timid. What helps make this ordeal manageable will be a respite in a 100-square-foot “Yotel” room in Terminal 4, equipped with double bed, bathroom (with shower) flat screen television and Wi-Fi, all for about $80 for five hours. A screamin’ deal, in my opinion.
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This blog will follow my monthly trips into wine country across California, Oregon, Washington and, some day, around the country. As the owner of Carpe Vino, a wine shop, wine bar and fine dining restaurant in Auburn, CA, I have direct access to the leading wineries and winemakers in the business. I’ll be traveling the back roads of wine country to find the true gems, small production wines made by truly passionate people. In my nightly blogs on the road, I’ll tell their stories and describe what I’ve seen, learned and tasted.
