Africa
Hot, Africa hot. It’s not really. It’s actually quite pleasant, but we just like using Africa as a modifier. Like “that’s a big parking lot. Africa big.” And we use it a lot. But if you ask me to name the one thing I will always associate with South Africa it will be the constant howl of the winds.
Located on the bay, our hotel room has sliding glass doors that form a less than perfect seal and the gusts create a high pitch wail that reminds me of old Halloween records meant to scare oncoming trick-or-treaters. It goes on all day and continues all night and then again the following day until, for reasons unknown, it suddenly stops, leaving us in the tranquil, sunny paradise that is Cape Town. But mostly the wind blows and when it does, clouds pour over the squarely contoured Table Mountains like milk boiling over a pot…except it’s beautiful.
We have it good here at the Table Bay, one of the few five star hotels in the area. Twenty-four hour room service, chocolates on our pillow, papers by our door and a day spa can fool you: This is a dangerous place. Disease, horrific crimes, political corruption, even the weather can turn on you in an instant making you realize how fragile life is here. But for now, this place is like paradise.
I’m swallowing dust and lots of it. But the wind is not the culprit this time, it’s the man in front of me, his ATV (all terrain vehicle or 4-wheeler) kicking up dirt as I race up behind him on the sandy track built on top of the Bush. I’m going incredibly fast and pushing it as hard as I can. The wheels on my right side begin to kick up and I almost lose it on a turn (flip-overs are not uncommon) but I regain control. And I’m grinning from ear to ear because the thought crosses my mind: I can’t believe I’m doing this in Africa…
“Over there.” The skipper of our speedboat points and I look again. Nothing. But then a fin comes to the surface and a dolphin rises, expelling air loudly through his blowhole. He’s followed by seven more dolphins, who surface and dive, and then six others who do the same. At speeds over 30 knots, they zig and zag underneath our boat and I am elated: I’ve always loved dolphins and I really want to jump in there to be with them, to touch them, but these are no sea park creatures. They race away from us and we give chase for a little while but we have other things to see.
We approach ‘seal island’ at lightening speed in our boat, our knees taking the brunt of the bumps as we skip along the water’s surface. The island is really just a group of immense rocks that thousands of seals make their home. Several of them swim up to the boat and then swim away as we approach the island. One even does a spectacular backflip out of the water. But even the cuteness of baby seals cannot mask the stench in the air that overcrowded seals make. It’s horrible- imagine the worst bird cage smell, multiply it by hundred and then add the smell of rotting fish entrails and you might have an idea. Still, those baby seals are cute and damn if I don’t want to play with them, too.
On our way back a fin pops out of the water and someone yells, "Dolphins!" But as we move closer, it's apparent that this is no dolphin--not by a long shot. It's immense dorsal fin protruding there was no mistaking what this was. It was a shark and a freaking huge one. Meg stands on her seat like she's avoiding a mouse. "That can't be a shark, water's too cold on the Atlantic side," our captain assures us. And then we move right along side of it and see one of the biggest, prehistoric looking creatures ever: The sun fish. It looks unfinished and double-sided and even the Captain surprised by how big this one is--double the size of any one he's seen before, about 8 feet. Check out his eye.
