ESCAPETOWN

Living in a small place like Grahamstown, sometimes the weekend brings a longing for big city life. Late on a Friday night two weeks ago, I was drinking wine at my apartment with Emily and Paddy (a journalism professor at Rhodes) when – after plenty of wine – the crazy idea occurred to Emily and me to fly to Cape Town the next morning. We booked our flights just before midnight, and at 6am the next morning we were off!

It was a whirlwind trip that was an introduction to, rather than a tour of, Cape Town. Having lived in cities all my life, we set about satisfying all the big-city cravings I’ve been deprived of during a month of tiny Grahamstown – mainly food and shopping! We shopped at a few boutiques on Long and Kloof Streets and at the mega-mall at the Waterfront. I took the opportunity to buy a few warmer items as I have been surprised by the COLD COLD weather in the Eastern Cape. We stumbled upon a friendly Capetonian who told us about the Saturday market at the Old Biscuit Mill then kindly gave us a lift there in his glittering SUV. It was full of little boutiques, funky shops and galleries, and a huge organic and specialty foods market! The lovely thing about a visit to Cape Town is that you can actually do your grocery shopping there and bring it home to Grahamstown. I think I almost choked with excitement when I saw a table full of pâtés and specialty meats. We picked up an assortment of lovely things like olives, cheese, pestos, salami, and fresh artichokes that are not readily available in Grahamstown. We caught a minibus taxi and headed downtown to our hotel, a cool boutique called the Grand Daddy. On Saturday night, Emily and I celebrated Canadian Thanksgiving in style with oysters and sushi at the rather pretentious Beluga Restaurant.

My first impression of Cape Town is of a cool metropolis with a stunning natural setting between the ocean and Table Mountain – in some ways, it reminds me of Vancouver. What doesn’t remind me of Vancouver is the racial segregation. I don’t think I’ve been anywhere in Africa where I saw so few black Africans. I suppose that we also have a stark contrast between rich and poor in Vancouver – I think of clearly ill people begging for change on Robson Street – but it is just not on such racial lines.