Sea Lions, Hitchhiking, and Climbing Lego Man. Welcome to South Africa.

When we finally pulled into port a day and a half late, we were very over the idea of going through immigration individually and waiting for the ship to get cleared so we could venture into the fresh, dry air of Cape Town. When the go-ahead was finally given, we marched off the gangway, ready to take on another country.

Table Mountain, named for its flat top, challenged us, even from a distance. If it had a face, “Let’s see what you’re made of” was stamped very clearly across its forehead. Our taxi weaved through the city and halfway up the mountain before dropping us at the head of Platteklip Gorge Trail, which our driver said was the best to climb. Even from the start of the trail we could see the city, tiny colorful buildings in the distance, bound by the bright blue waters of the Atlantic Ocean, and spotted with the greens of trees and bushes and blues of pools and ponds below. As we began to hike, we passed and were passed by tourists and SASers of all ages, but as we clambered over the rocks and steps of the mountainside, the stragglers were left behind, and soon it was just the five of us, staggered in line and breathing heavily.

I can’t recall exactly how what happened next happened, but somehow we made a friend. A guy our age had caught up to us during one of the many water breaks we took up the mountain, and as I brought up the rear of our group at the time, I was the first to meet him. His name was Vince, a 22 year old from Holland who had dropped out of college and become a professional poker player. He was in South Africa because he had opened a map and placed a finger on a place he would like to visit. He just got up and went. He said he would be in town for three or four months, and had spent his first ten days looking for an apartment to rent while he was here. Vince got along with all of us. We talked and laughed and told jokes and made fun of each other. And when we got to the top one hour and forty-five minutes later, we shared a view we’ll never forget. A sweeping sight of the city, fogged by clouds every once in a while, but gorgeous nonetheless.  The rocky cliffs fell straight down, jagged, black, and gray with green spurts of grass speckling the sides from where we were standing. The top of Table Mountain was desolate, barren. After taking our fill of pictures we relaxed at the quaint café. Tours of sightseers passed us and I realized this was the first place we had really seen tourists other than ourselves. Many Europeans were here; maybe this was the place to go on vacation? Some of us bought drinks and snacks, foreign beers, sodas, chips (thank you Vince for the chips!) before heading to the cable car. We were NOT about to hike down a path that steep. My kneecaps would have been displaced by the bottom. The ride down was smooth, quick, and another great view. We parted ways with Vince at the bottom, exchanged emails and hoped to meet up another night to hang out. Unfortunately, no one has perfected their communication skills without a phone yet, so coordinating was near impossible. We still felt lucky to have made a new friend on our first adventure.

The next day, Jenn, Isaac, and I caught a taxi to a train to a bus to Simonstown. Let me tell you, that train took us along the East coast of the peninsula, and it was beautiful. The ocean waves crashed over rocks on the coastline and bright blue manmade pools, where locals stopped their splashing to turn around and wave at us. Our hour long, $1 ride brought us a short walk away from Boulders Beach, home to the African Penguins. When we got there, we decided not to pay the entrance fee and ended up at the nesting ground of the penguins a short walk down the beach. As we watched them hop from rock to rock and get knocked over by the waves, a man told us it would be a 250 Rand taxi to get to Cape Point, the southernmost point of South Africa, and our next wish list stop. After much debate, Jenn stuck her head inside of a tour van, and the next thing we knew we were accompanying a family from Singapore to our destination. Another hike awaited us after the entrance gate, so up we climbed to a lighthouse on top of wave-beaten cliffs that looked like something out of The Chronicles of Narnia. In the middle of the walkway stood many signs pointing in different directions, graffiti scribbled into the post that held them steady. “New York City- 12,641 km”. These were signs that told the distance from this spot to major cities around the world, and man were we far from home. The last train out of the station that night would be at 7pm, and as 5pm drew closer, we decided it would be a good idea to get there on time. We then realized that there were no taxis up here, unless you counted the ones that were already rented out to other tourists. We spent a good hour knocking on car windows and jumping in front of cars to ask in desperation for a lift even relatively close to town. When we had almost given up and called a taxi, which wouldn’t have come in time to make the train back home, two guys about our age were walking in our direction. This was one of those moments you see in the movies, where Jenn and I had a quick, whispered, comical argument where I repeated “Let’s just do it! What do we have to lose? We’ll never see them again anyways.” And she whispered back “No! What if it doesn’t work? They won’t help! They look scary!”  As the moment came to ask, Jenn just kind of threw the words up. “Heydoyouguyshaveataxi?” They stopped, looked at each other, and said “No.” We sighed. All that build up for nothing. “We took our car here. Do you need a lift?” They probably thought we were crazy when we started jumping around and yelling for Isaac. They were headed for Cape Town and we didn’t even need to take the train back. It always works out.

Jeremy drove an old red Toyota, and Matthew navigated back via a Garmen and a good sense of direction. The two of them had grown up together in Durbin, 16 hours from the city, and now attended the University of Cape Town. We talked with them as they drove us this time up the West coast of the Peninsula, past white sand beaches, tiny pastel-colored towns, and old lighthouses. We rounded the corner to a small town with no name, and all of a sudden Jeremy was shouting “Cassy! Sis! Sis!” Small world for them, Jeremy’s sister was getting out of the car with her husband and a friend on their way into the bar to watch the first game of rugby season. They pulled in to talk, and soon realized the game they thought was at 7 pm was actually a half hour in and had started at 5. With nowhere to be, we agreed to go in and watch with them for a while. We ordered a pizza and I sat next to Matthew, who answered question after question about rugby from me. It was basically American football with a different scoring system, a non-stopping 90 minutes, and a lot less sissies. At the end of the game, the Sharks came out victorious over the Cheetahs, and we drove the rest of the way back to port with two happy Sharks fans as our chauffeurs. After a quick stop for Jeremy to “Feed his addiction” of cigarettes, we were back at the Wharf. We offered to pay them, and in the end they took only 50 Rand (about $7) out of our pile of money. Enough to buy two packages of cigarettes. We exchanged facebook names and emails again in hopes to meet up sometime before we left, but again failed in the communication department. At the end of the day, it was the people we met that made what we did an adventure. Hitchhiking across South Africa, no big deal.

I'm going to take South Africa in shifts this time, so tomorrow I'll post the rest :)