Cape Town – A Return to the Road

The last time I landed at Cape Town International Airport, I had to list my travel history to a barrier of scowling men in military fatigues.

Back then, the coronavirus, at the very beginning of its diabolical world tour, was still something primarily happening overseas in a city most people had never heard of.

Two surreal years later, I exit the airport on my first solo trip since before the pandemic, managing a low current of travel anxiety. Masks are mandatory indoors. The confines of the two-hour flight over feels like taking a leisurely bath in a Petri dish before I hop into an Uber and race through a metropolis that’s different in some of the same ways Windhoek is.

There has been a devastating loss of life and livelihood. There seem to be more homeless people in the CBD. Grimy masks join the miscellaneous muck you can find on a typical city street, but if you’re not listening to a drunk varsity student argue with a KFC guard who insists he wear a face covering while in pursuit of his midnight Streetwise 3, then things, at least superficially, feel pretty normal.

For someone like me who got their very first Covid-19 test just before their trip and who has scarcely left their house in two years, Cape Town is a good place to return to travel.

It’s close to Windhoek. There’s no language barrier for travellers who speak English, so you can dive right in with the locals, make friends, swipe right and join tours with the confidence of someone who can understand when they are being called a stupid foreigner, a nice piece of ass or a jerk.

And, if you’re one of the five sensible people who are still concerned about this, Cape Town’s great outdoors, which includes the glory of Table Mountain as well as a wealth of hiking trails, botanical gardens and beaches, are incredibly pandemic friendly.

Bursting with bars, clubs, coffee shops and restaurants replete with aesthetic terraces, rooftops and patios, the Mother City is a foodie and Instagram dream, and I take my share of selfies in neon pink perches.

As a person who doesn’t mind a splash of vino, I also appreciate that Cape Town is a short distance from a selection of wine estates at which to get stylishly tipsy.

My itinerary with a few friends on a Saturday afternoon is Babylonstoren (wear comfortable shoes and walk around this sprawling estate like some kind of sun goddess flower child), Noble Hill (upscale Mexican restaurant and a table side guacamole show), Spice Route (unpretentious wine tasting and a whole campus of artisanal gourmet goodies) and Fairview (cheese heaven and a goat tower. Yes, goats in a tower).

Left to my solo escapades, Cape Town also satisfies my arts aficionado cravings. And on a random weekday afternoon a sudden bout of load shedding has me screaming for help in the bowels of the fabulous but momentarily pitch black Zeitz Museum of Contemporary Art Africa (MOCAA).

With the lights on, the contemporary African art gallery is a tumble down the rabbit hole as a selection of fascinating visual artists fill the silo with installations investigating issues of race, identity and genocide. On Wednesdays between 10h00 and 13h00, African citizens can visit the Zeitz MOCAA for free, but I only remember this after spending the 200 bucks it costs to amble around the gallery all day.

At the V&A Waterfront, where the Zeitz is situated, there are a million things I can think of doing with that cash. There’s the Two Oceans Aquarium where I spend an afternoon wondering whether the fish think we’re some masked and staring alien race who seriously need to refrain from tapping the glass.

There’s The Cape Wheel, which is fun to ride but also great to just watch at night as I hold my shopping and munch on a Cinnabon amid what feels like the whole world, given the assorted accents indicating a major and global return to the road.

Of course, there is also the V&A Waterfront Cape Town Cruise Terminal, where I have my PCR test done 72 hours before I fly home. The National Health Laboratory Service emails my results in just a few hours and, after being as relaxed as I have ever been during the pandemic, I’m relieved to test negative.

I hear you don’t need to do PCR tests to return to Namibia from South Africa anymore, but I’m not the kind of person who would risk not having a negative one handy for an insistent immigration officer.

I encounter just the type on my way home, but I’m so hopped up on a profound return to self that I don’t mind.

Travel is back and as beautiful as this famished travel writer remembers.

The rules and advisories can be challenging and ever-changing, but one thing is still the same.

The world is still out there.

It’s still beating and recovering, thrilling and thriving and, with a little caution, we can go back.

Perhaps not to the world we once knew, but to something as inextinguishable as it is fragile. Something uplifting, precious and waiting.

– martha@namibian.com.na; Martha Mukaiwa on Twitter and Instagram; marthamukaiwa.com

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