Category Archives: Cape Town

City Sightseeing Cape Town Tour – Red Route

City Sightseeing Cape Town tour – Red Route
Last week I spent a couple of days in Cape Town. Cape Town holds a special place in my heart, partly because it is one of the most beautiful cities in the world and partly because, having lived there twice, I have that inexplicably Capetonian, often-mocked-by-Joburgers attachment to the lump of rock that dominates the scenery. This time of year, the days are long and beautiful, particularly when the wind isn’t blowing (and even to some extent when it is) as the city lives up to its reputation as a particularly attractive place.
It is also a place where I feel quite strongly that one should throw caution and social pressure to the roaring South Easter and enjoy the sensation of being a tourist. So, after an extremely frustrating morning of work, I set off on a Thursday afternoon to find something exciting to see in Cape Town. I was staying in town-ish (Cape Town Backpackers), so close to town. My initial plan was to spend a few happy hours at a museum or go back and finish exploring the castle, but then a red, open-top sightseeing bus drove past and I was immediately sold.
The departure (and terminal) point for these city sightseeing buses is the dedicated stop in front of the Two Oceans Aquarium at the Waterfront. The buses use a hop-on, hop-off system, so it is possible to spend a whole day travelling from tourist destination to tourist destination. A one-day pass costs a mere R120 (a Windhoek City tour charges R200). I didn’t have a whole day, so I decided just to sit back and enjoy the tour from the top of the bus. For the record, it is highly advisable not to forget sunscreen – even though the wind keeps it cool when you’re moving, the sun can be quite fierce.
The Red Route is the city tour. It starts by circling around from the Waterfront past the ICC, up Adderley Street, past St George’s and the SA Museum, around past parliament and the Jewish Museum, through District Six and back past the Castle and the Gold Museum. The whole way along, disembodied voices tell you interesting things about the places you’re passing via a set of red headphones handed to you when you buy your ticket. Yes, I realise it is probably mostly information that can be picked up in other ways but it is somehow more interesting and definitely more ‘sticky’ with the visual reinforcement at the same time. I didn’t realise, for example, that the pretty Lutheran Evangelical Church in town was, for the first five years of its existence, disguised as a barn because no church other than the Dutch Reformed Church was allowed in the Cape. Nor that the war Memorial near the station is dedicated to those who died in the world wars and those who perished in the Korean War.
From town, the bus travels up Buitengracht, New Church and Kloof Nek towards the lower cable station. Lions Head and Table Mountain both rose majestically against the blue sky as we got closer and closer. The road up to the lower cable-way is… um… exciting in a bus but the views are worth it. Several cable cars travelled up and down as the bus waited. The bus stops for a few minutes at the lower cable station, where people are able to hop off and wander around a bit. I was hugely tempted to go up the mountain, but decided there simply wouldn’t be time before I was due to meet up with a friend. One day is one day.
After the cable station, the bus heads towards Camps Bay. The wind was starting to come up now and the twists of Geneva Drive were a little hairy but the views of Atlantic sparkling below and the 12 Apostles stretching behind were exquisite. Also, a reminder of why people pay millions to live in Camps Bay.
From there, the bus winds its way past the stunning beaches and millionaire-flats of Clifton, through Sea Point, Three Anchors Bay, Mouille Point and back, past Somerset Hospital, to the Waterfront.
It was a lovely trip and a great way to spend a sunny afternoon. By the end, the South Easter was drifting the cloud across the edges of the mountain, adding its own special kind of magic to the day. I stopped for calamari and chips with the seagulls at the Waterfront before heading back to the backpackers and the evening’s plans.

Last week I spent a couple of days in Cape Town. Cape Town holds a special place in my heart, partly because it is one of the most beautiful cities in the world and partly because, having lived there twice, I have that inexplicably Capetonian, often-mocked-by-Joburgers attachment to the lump of rock that dominates the scenery. This time of year, the days are long and beautiful, particularly when the wind isn’t blowing (and even to some extent when it is) as the city lives up to its reputation as a particularly attractive place.

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A castle and a train

Monday did not start well. I was rudely dragged from lazy dozing by a phone-call moving my late-afternoon meeting. Bang went a morning spent with my mother and sister and a visit to my grandmother. The miserable mood stayed with me as I dragged myself out of bed and got ready. It stayed until that magical moment when the train started moving and the station fell slowly away behind me. What is it about the clackety-clack of a train that makes a small part of my soul thrill with anticipation? I take a deep breath and settle back and feel a calm, gentle happiness settle over me. Just like that moment on a plane when the wheels leave the runway.

It’s raining when I arrive. It’s a chilly (for November), overcast day, with raindrops streaming across the windows as we pull into the busy transportation hub that is Cape Town station. Avoiding rushing commuters, hawkers and a strange man trying to talk to me as I crossed the road, I head for St George’s Mall.

The pedestrian mall is bustling with different people. The vegetable seller offers “Weigh-less Avos! Weigh-less…” It’s one of my favourite places in the Cape. The cosmopolitan heart of cosmopolitan Cape Town. People of every country, colour and creed wander and saunter and rush along. I stop for a moment outside the Wimpy and breathe in the cool, damp air.

After a quick breakfast, I head off to the Castle of Good Hope. The city feels like a city today. Some days, Cape Town feels like a tourist attraction or a living post card. Today, on this grey Monday morning, it feels gritty and busy and tired. And then I turn, at the bus stop and across the busy square is Cape Town’s beautiful city hall, Table Mountain rising, a perfect backdrop, against the cloudy sky.

The bulk of the Castle stands to the left. I have less than an hour before I need to be back at the station to navigate the somewhat unpredictable (and unfamiliar) train schedule. Not nearly enough time to see all of the “oldest building in South Africa“. I don’t care. I’ve decided not to be put off doing things because of limited time any longer – better half an hour immersed in fascinating history than time wasted wandering restlessly from shop to shop.

I wish I’d had more time. I’ve visited the Castle before – many years ago as a child – but all I really remember is the dark dungeon. I didn’t even make it as far as the dungeon this time. I did spend a delightful half an hour wandering up twisting stone stairs and past the bell tower and enjoying the sense of the past and incredible views from the bastions. The rain had stopped and the clouds drifting over the edge of the mountain were backlit by sunlight. Walking along a passage, the white-washed walls thick and uneven, I came upon a glass window onto an ancient armoury – did you know they made bricks in the early Cape because they couldn’t risk the sparks from a stone floor?

On the way back to the station, I looked up into the huge glass windows along the side of the station. Reflected there was the cable-car slowly descending from the top cable-station. I had a moment of mad desire to throw it all in and go up the mountain for the day. With a sigh, I let the moment pass and rushed to catch my train, leaving the other for another day, hoping, through  “knowing how way leads on to way”, that some day soon I shall be back.

Out to lunch

Cavendish Square is a strange place. A place of clichés. At a table near me sit two young women – obviously varsity friends from the snatches of conversation drifting across to me – discussing Stellenbosch and reminiscing over their wine. They get so caught up in their catch-up that they completely forget to look at the menu and send the waiter away to give them more time to decide. I find myself wondering if they’re wives. The place is full of women in designer outfits, some with small children. Ladies who lunch. Sometimes several generations all at once. In between them, the occasional guy dressed for work: a geek here, a business suit there.

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