Cape Town chronicles: the final day

After climbing down from Lion’s Head, Eric and I, along with his co-intern Paul, went to an Ethiopian restaurant called Addis, which was terrific. I don’t remember the names of any of the dishes, but I did choose to purchase an “Ethiopian Coffee Ceremony,” which entailed the waiter bringing me a small tray with coffee, burning incense, and popcorn. Most of my coffee since coming to Lesotho has been instant, so it was nice to have some of the genuine article.

After dinner, we went to Eric’s favorite frozen yogurt place, which we had also gone to the night before. I would do injustice to the experience (and likely embarrass myself) if I tried to describe my joy at eating frozen yogurt after so many months of a more bare-bones dessert (which is under no circumstances a ball of margarine rolled in brown sugar). Then we went back to Eric’s apartment and, as we were two young men and it was a Saturday night, elected to watch the second half of How To Train Your Dragon (we had tried to watch the whole thing the night before, but I fell asleep around 9:30).

The next morning, my final day in Cape Town, we woke up early to climb Table Mountain. We went up a route called India Venster, venster being Afrikans for window, I think. At one point on the trail, there was a small window of rocks that looked out across the side of Table Mountain at a rock outcropping that allegedly looked like India. Say what you will about Afrikaners, but I am certain that they don’t know what India looks like. The trail was an excellent scrambly one though, with lots of climbing and some truly excellent views first of the City Bowl and then, as we wrapped around the side of the mountain, of the ocean. Incidentally, my camera ran out of battery on this hike.

This was a pretty challenging hike, and I was pretty tired when we came down, and I was glad the only plan remaining for the day was to make French Toast. I had, earlier in the weekend, expressed interest in going hang-gliding, and Eric was getting in touch with a guy who ran a hang-gliding company who he had befriended (Eric befriends these types of people, whereas I mostly befriend people at places that sell French fries). I wanted to go hang-gliding, but I also wanted to catch my bus back to Lesotho, and the hang-gliding slot would have been two hours before the bus’s departure. Eric told me I could give them all my luggage, hang-glide to a field, and then take a taxi to the bus station. Apparently, I could not hang-glide directly to the bus station. This was tempting, but I was very tired, and imagined I would, mo matter the guarantees of the hang-gliding guides, miss my bus.

And that was my first visit to Cape Town.