CapeFOUND

ARRIVAL

Our arrival at Cape Town International Airport was one of the most efficient travel events of our lives. Our checked bag revolved around to us in stride, and our World Cup tickets printed out for us at a kiosk en route to our rental car. After getting lost in the asinine maze of the Frankfurt airport or waiting in kiosks at Johannesburg for an hour because someone requested a vegetarian meal on their flight, the wink and a smile of the airport employees was a welcome change. Well done airport, well done.

Cape Town is so beautiful that cars are filled with oohhs and aahhs while driving in the dark. The city illuminates the sheer granite face of Table Mountain with zillion candle power spotlights at night, and there was a feel of Christmas downtown where colored World Cup lights stretched overhead the wide boulevards.

Oohh . . . Aahh.

Our B&B style hotel had a balcony facing the Atlantic Ocean. In the darkness, we could see the headlights wandering the coast below dark rocky silhouettes and the night carried a warm and salty breeze.

Ahh . . .

DAY 1

The plan for the day was to find some Cameroon attire and see the town during the day, then watch some sort of soccer game at night. We wandered the VA Waterfront and picked out some crafts to buy before returning to Windhoek, and found some Cameroon scarves. We also wandered Long Street with its secret brothels, bars, and backpacker hotels before attending to our growling bellies. We ate in a Thai Restaurant while it was closed and were served by a Dutch man in a T-Shirt and high tops. Despite the bizarre environment, the rumors of amazing food in this city were confirmed.

Oohh!

That evening we hopped a shuttle from Camps Bay to the Cameroon vs. Netherlands Game. Africa vs. Colonial Africa. The fact that we would gain entry to Green Point Stadium was still in question. We applied for tickets on FIFA.com in the last minute sales phase and received an e-mail saying, "Congratulations! Your tickets are subject to these 29 things!"

Oohh?

About a week prior to our alleged game we decided to call FIFA and were told that tickets would be waiting, prompting us to book flights and hotel in a flurry. The FIFA tickets were waiting at the airport, but surely it could all be a practical joke yeah? After being fondled at security, we were beyond the gates. It was true. We were here.

For those of you who have been to Lambeau during hunting season, you know blaze orange is just as, if not more so, prominent as the green and gold. The Dutch travel well, and they were costumed in blaze. We were supporting Africa, and therefore Cameroon, and were certainly in the minority.

The atmosphere was exhilarating. We found ourselves surrounded by dialects from all over the world, the phlegmy Afrikaans, abrupt German, drunky English, frat English of Australia, the warm fuzzy Espanol of Mexico, the debutante Espanol of Argentina, and the varied tongues of the African continent. Costumes of every tournament country were speckled with the deer hunters.

Our seats gave us a birds eye view of the developing play on the pitch, and the energy of the stands. The stadium was beautiful, modern, and efficient, and the beer was Budweiser. The vuvuzellas maintained a constant background noise; they surged in syncopation urging the players, or sudden gains of decibel aligning with the emotions of the fans after a close goal.

Towards match end, an ocean fog slowly filled above the game. We had hoped for a Cameroon win, but it would have only served as icing on the cake.

VA Waterfront

Cameroooooooon

Camerooooooooooooooooooooooooon

Atmosphere

Sunset From the Hotel Before the Game

Moonrise in Camps Bay Before the Game

Green Point Stadiums During Deer Season

The Tickets Were Real

Cameroon

2010 World Cup 2nd Place Team

The Dutch

Corner Kick

DAY 2

The plan for day 2 was to hike Table Mountain but the fog from the night before had thickened, so we thought, "Lets just drink instead."

We took the long route to wine country, wandering through coastal towns harboring fishing boats along streets adorned with colonial buildings filled with antiques, old books, and steaming seafood soup. We borrowed a book from the B&B and picked wineries based on the pictures. We started at Neetlingshof winery where the long reaching trees still misted just before the inland fog burned away. We drank lots of reds and tasted mulled wine better than Simon's at Christmas.

We also visited the oldest winery in the region, Boschendal in the Franschhoek region. While sipping and feeling grand at an outside table, Krysta got excited by a flower and bushwacked through a hedge to take pictures scaring the other guests in penny loafers.

The golden valley hides the wineries away in mountain foothills where the wines are crafted. The roads are confusing and force you to wander in and out of shadowy forests where earthy locals give direction.

Not a bad alternative to Table Mountain.

Neetlingshof Entry

Boschendal Winter Vines

Krysta's First Round

Luke's Last

Franschhoek Valley

DAY 3

The plan for day 3 was to hike Table Mountain but the fog gave way to wind. We decided to wander the coastal towns and try some of that soup on our way down to Cape Point where Krysta was certain the Indian Ocean met the Atlantic, and Luke was certain that his wife was certainly wrong.

The point is a windswept peninsula littered with shipwrecks. We pulled over en route to watch kite surfers launch from wave crests and float a hundred feet.

Once in the Cape of Good Hope park we took an offshoot road in hopes of seeing a shipwreck. It required a bit of a walk so we settled for wild Ostrich and Bontebock in the foggy grass. Once at the point parking lot we strolled around the windy pathways that lead to overlooks of dramatic cliffs and sandy beaches. At the top of the paths is a lighthouse and the meeting point of all of the worlds people. The Dutch and the German egged each other on in stern fashion, both still vying for the cup.

The oceans did not however, meet, but the warm currents of the Indian were swirling out there in the frigid Atlantic. Our moment was one of feeling small while staring towards the bottom of the earth, surrounded by the soccer fans of the world.

We did not have seafood soup on our way home, but saw fuzzy men and wandered in and out of antique shops. We filled our bellies with warm coffee and drove the coast in weakening sunlight, stopping around every sheer cliff to take pictures of this amazing coast. Having cheated ourselves from seafood soup, we dined at a restaurant where the menu was under glass on ice.

“Give me some of these, some of that, a couple of those, some naked lady tees, oh and lots of that.”

Coast Picture 1: Sunglasses

Dinosaur

Tourist

The Atlantic Ocean and Indian Currents

Cape of Good Hope Beach

Cape of Good Hope Flower

African Penguins

Coast Picture 2: Dramatic Pose

Coast Picture 3: Screensaver

Coast Picture 4: Windy Sun

Coast Picture 5: Hotel Waves at Sunset

Table Mountain Reflecting Sunset (From Hotel)

DAY 4

The plan for Day 4 was to hike Table Mountain but the wind gave way to . . . a perfect calm day with no clouds. Finally.

In Windhoek, wherever you park you car, a man will come up to you wearing a crossing guard vest and stare at you until you give him a thumbs up. This thumbs up means you will pay him 1 Namibian Dollar ($0.15) to watch you car so nobody breaks in. At Table Mountain, the cost is 30 Rand, and the crossing guard told us it was a mandatory donation. We did not give the oxymoron the money, and started the most beautiful urban hike we know of in the world.

There is an option to stand in a long line of smoking people and take a cable car directly to the top but the high top thai food, sugary wine, market price seafood, and oreo and caramel cupcakes were begging us to take out the fat pants. We therefore took the long route, effectively giving us a private walk through a golden hillside before meeting up with the main trail.

Cape Town is a beautiful city at ground level, but from above, it is spectacular. Vessels glide across the silvery bay at a snails pace, neighborhoods cling to green and granite hillsides, and the 60,000 seat Green Point Stadium looks like a bird's nest. Viewing from the private path, lacking many other hikers, it becomes a silent city.

Eventually the quiet trail merges with the main trail where it becomes a strategic system of passing and resting. The long and straight sunlit path becomes a very steep series of switchbacks into the shadow of the table.

At the top of this push, you emerge out of the shadow and into the light, and a completely flat plain of rock giving you a view all the way down past the soup to the lighthouse point where Germans yell at the Dutch. We lingered here for some time, taking in all 360 degrees of views again in an environment of 100 languages.

Satisfied that the fat pants would stay hidden for another day, we took the cable car down and walked back to our car. We finished our trip at a mall with it's own zip code where Krysta took sympathy on her husband and kept the shopping time to a minimum.

The Quiet Trail

The Silent City

On The Table

Green Point Stadium

The Clinging Neighborhoods