In which our heros reach the sothernmost point in their journey

We had been told that of all ports to wake up before dawn to watch the sunrise, South Africa’s Cape Town would be definitively it.  And we did so.  And it was.  Cape Town is God’s own port – the waterfront warm and immaculate and welcoming with the city inching modestly up the foothills of Table Mountain in the middle, cliff sides catching the sunlight. 
Of course I had earned myself six hours of dock time due to a slight run in with a Ghanaian taxi and the resulting 20 minutes tardiness for being back on ship.  We’re a pair of underappreciated (unimpressive?) geniuses, Liz and I.  So it was that after cheering on our pilot boat (pirate boat amongst the clever, har HAR) I found myself in the mood for a nice leisurely nap, as if I would be doing anything else.

Nap done, packing finished, enter now a freshly cast duo in our adventures, Sarah and Stephanie.  Sarah is from Colorado, also shaved her head (but maintains a mohawk and consequentially has to worry about fending off the girls’ field hockey team) and majors in Undecided.  Stephanie is from Texas (which is hysterical when she tells our host countrymen as they always want to know about her ranch, the existence of which I had always assumed myself and was equally as startled as the Afrikaners to hear wasn’t true) and majors in anthropology.  We made our way to the Backpackers’ Hostel on Kloof Street, a few blocks away from the (in)famous Long Street, our home for the next two nights.
It’s incredibly important to break away from SAS kids every once in a while, especially once the general reputation has been set.  It never takes long for word to travel, especially where alcohol is involved.  As Dean Byron put it, “Do NOT be stupid.  Be cute.”   So it was that after a little grocery shopping (foreign grocery stores being absolutely fascinating) we headed to a little quaint place called Rick’s Café Americano.  They played such timeless classics as YMCA and Kung Fu Fighting.  I was immediately taken.  We made sure to steal ashtrays.  Cute.

Our hostel manager was of impeccable taste in all things fun and found us a tour of the winelands around Stellenbosch and Franschoek – beautiful country and delightful wine.  There were six of us – the three Americans, two from the Netherlands on a four months backpacking vacation heading towards Australia and New Zealand, etc. and our incredibly zealous South African tour guide.  The tastings began at Fairview Vineyards promptly at 0930.  Before I get into how long of a day it was, let me implore you to get your hands on just about any South African Fairview wine available to you.  Go desperately out of your way.  And then buy two of each, one for me.  Back to the tastings – we visited four or five places guided by our increasingly heavy-handed tour lady, who delivered far beyond her promised 22 tastings.  Back by 1730 to catch the train to Simonstown and a nap.

Our hotel in Simonstown was perched right on Boulder Beach, home of the African penguin.  They are adorable, fat, and punt-able.  The three of us spent the day at Cape Point, first having gotten there in a local Rikki (not Rickety, ho ho) which was an adventure in and of itself.  It was about the size of a Smart Car, 30 years older, rated for eight passengers  and driven by an incredibly fat man.  He had no mercy for speed and turns, it was thrilling all the way along the coast. 
Cape Point is nothing short of majestic.  It juts out between the Atlantic and Indian oceans and maybe if you squint hard enough you can imagine where the South Pole would be if you could squint a little harder.  I couldn’t believe They actually made anything like it, or what we should ever be allowed to see it.  Pictures will be up eventually, but for the time being rest assured that they do exist.

After Simonstown we made our way back on the train to Cape Town for one last day in South Africa.