Africa's not for Sissies

Chapter 20: The Lion and the Cape

I was looking forward to seeing Cape Town. It was the place every Afrikaner told me "you must go" and every backpacker described as the most beautiful city in South Africa. Many claimed it was the most beautiful city in the world. It was founded in 1652 as a replenishment station for ships of the Dutch East India Company, making it was the oldest port in southern Africa. It was also the first toehold of European settlers.

It looked amazing in all the photos I'd seen. The city nestled up against the sea and sprawled around a massive flat topped mountain with nearly square cliffs, called appropriately enough, Table Mountain, but when I arrived it was after dark, so instead of majestic views, I was greeted by the lights of the city, but also light of an unexpected kind. Table Mountain was burning.

When I checked in I asked about the fires, burning in the distance. Nobody seemed overly concerned. "That mountain likes to burn," I was told.

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I stayed at A Sunflower Stop, the backpackers owned by Annalie's cousin. Annalie's mother also worked there and practically adopted me. She even started introducing me as her adopted son. They brought me to family braais and welcomed me to stay as long as I wanted as their guest. I was truly made to feel part of the family.

On my first day, Annalie's cousin and her husband brought me to the Lion's Head, one of two peaks flanking Table Mountain, the other being Devil's Peak. It is said the three peaks form a towering castle that overlooks the city below. I could see the resemblance, and it was easy to see the Lion's Head's resemblance to a lion, but I was surprised to learn that was not how it got its name. It was named in honor of the last Cape lion, which was shot there back in 1923.

The hike to the summit was relatively easy. We wound our way around and around the "head" of the "lion" on a leisurely ascent, but maintained a quick pace in order to reach the peak before sunset and worked up a good sweat in the process. There was a crowd gathered at the top. Sunsets were said to be spectacular when viewed from here, and it wasn't an exaggeration. Wisps of red, orange, and violet streaked the sky and were mirrored in the windows of the shimmering high rises below us. In the distance, the bluish-pink waters of the Atlantic Ocean twinkled endlessly into the horizon, but most impressive of all was Table Mountain. A soft white cloud hung over the flat "table top" and extended little swirling fingers of mist over its almost square edges.

"The tablecloth." I heard someone say. And it was, a magical tablecloth covering a magical table that resembled a mountain.

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Although the hostel was gated, I was assured we were in a safe neighborhood, and so ventured out alone from time to time. That night, as I was typing in the security code at the gate to enter the hostel, I caught a flurry of motion in my peripheral vision. Something was rushing me. I swung instinctively towards it and put up my hands in defense.

It was a lady. She was a little bigger than me, with dark hair and olive skin. She put her arms around me, like she was giving me a hug, but it felt like more of a wrestler's hold.

"You want a date?" she asked.

I pushed back, and tried to get free of her embrace, but she was surprisingly strong.

"Maybe you like suck?" she asked. "I give you suck."

I wiggled to get free – one hand pushed her away while the other fumbled with the keypad and tried to enter the security code for the gate.

"You want ass? One hundred rand."

I bungled the passcode and had to start again. "No thanks."

"What you want?"