Day 17
Thursday 26 January sees our arrival in Cape Town at 0630, with the sun just rising in the east (it would have been remarkable if it rose in the west) and casting its warm rays onto Table Mountain, with the city still in shadow. It was a most impressive sight. As usual, we came alongside faultlessly. The wider vista of Cape Town, overshadowed by Table Mountain, offset the fact that we were berthed on yet another container berth with short-term views of more containers. Very soon we were disembarking for our first organised tour, though we had to pass through immigration ashore first. The latter was quite a lengthy process as absolutely everyone, including the crew and anyone not intending to go ashore at all, had to be processed. The line of shuffling people stretched to infinity, but it did – at least – move and we were through in half an hour.
We were on an 8-hour tour to the Cape Point Peninsular, Cape of Good Hope, Simons Town, and the Botanical Gardens. Of course, Cape Town is not actually on the bottom tip of Africa where the Cape of Good Hope is; it is up a bit and to the left. Our trip was to the real bottom edge, where the cold Atlantic Benguela Current meets the warm Agulhas Current of the Indian Ocean at Cape Agulhas (the southernmost point, which is not the Cape of Good Hope). It was a very majestic sight and the beaches looked gorgeous: icing sugar merging into a turquoise sea. No one swims in it, however, as it is the cold Atlantic at about 12ºC. On the other side of Africa, the Indian Ocean side, it is warmer for swimming, but there are many sharks. We climbed to the lighthouse on Cape Point, bypassing the huge crowd of lazy people waiting for the funicular railway, and it felt as if we were at the top of the world. Of course, we were actually at the bottom. We had a good lunch in a restaurant in Simons Town (home of the ex RN base, which I always thought was spelt as one word) then went down to see the Jackass Penguins on the foreshore. Jane likes penguins. We were very taken with Simons Town – very British and very colonial, but then we were very taken with the whole area, especially Cape Town.
I was a bit dubious about Cape Town before we came, having heard about the crime, the ANC, and so on. However, the place is fantastic: very affluent, very clean, beautiful buildings, proud inhabitants. The inhabitants seem well integrated though I was mildly surprised by the large number of white people – I thought maybe they would all have been shot by the new government. The place is heaving, with traffic on the motorways non-stop. There is a lot of expensive real estate here, and no graffiti! The waterfront area, in particular, has been converted into a huge restaurant and shopping complex that is absolutely humming: think Gateshead Metro Centre, Cribbs Causeway in Bristol, Liverpool Docks, Gloucester Docks and Royal William Yard in Plymouth all combined, and then add sunshine. I might add that it is the only time that I have ever seen several working dry docks seamlessly combined with a shopping centre. It was a bit surreal. Mind you the shops were mega expensive – none of your Poundlands here: L’occitane, Gucci, Louis Vuitton were the order of the day.
Day 18
Is it really a Friday? I have lost track. I checked my watch, yes it is 27 January. Another trip today, but shorter – the City Tour lasting four hours. It was very worthwhile and we, again, had a good guide. The city is suffering a drought, having had little rain since the previous June and the reservoirs are down to 35% full. Our guide gave a candid rundown of the situation with regard to immigration – it seems everyone in Africa wants to come to the successful Cape, but the infrastructure is quaking under the strain. Having said that, we were not pestered in the streets by beggars and there were no shanty towns in evidence where we went (that does not mean to say that there weren’t any). There had been some unrest last year, when ANC-inspired riots at the university were so severe that some students have had to repeat a year. We met one chap whose daughter had given up at the university and was applying to Bath University instead. Education is not free at any level, not even primary; it is means tested. There is no welfare state like ours: the government takes the view that it will give you a ‘leg up’ if times are hard, but after that it is up to you. Not a bad philosophy in my view. The museums were good and we visited the Castle of Good Hope, built by the Dutch in the 1690s to keep out the filthy English and the hottentots. We had decided not to book a tour up Table Mountain, mainly because I am not good with heights and cable cars, and this proved to be fortunate because the mountain was shrouded in cloud (which the locals call the ‘table cloth’). The final part of the trip was to the top of Signal Hill, a high point that overlooks the city: scary on the twisting roads to the top as we drove up in the bus, but worth the visit.
It tipped it down with heavy rain showers today, which pleased the locals no end. Actually, it was not unpleasant as the temperature was 28ºC and sunny between showers. Mrs Shacklepin pronounced herself happy. It must have been those penguins yesterday.
A minor miscalculation on the exchange rate by me meant that the £10 in South African Rand that I thought I was withdrawing from an ATM, was actually £100 worth. We only wanted it to buy a beer or a cup of coffee. Now we have about 2,500 Rand: pockets-full of Mickey Mouse money. I suppose it will buy a lot of beer and coffee.
There is a large changeover of passengers today, with about two thirds (approximately 1800) leaving for UK, and the same number joining. We have acquired at least two children and a baby, which will bring the average age of the passengers down significantly. The voyage is, apparently, broken into sectors and this is the end of the first one. Only about 216 passengers are completing the full round trip without a break. You can tell the newcomers from us hardened sea dogs by their myopic appearance and totally lost demeanour, not to mention their white knees, varicose veins and flab. They are a pretty grumpy bunch at the moment, because it took over four hours to check them in and they weren’t happy about waiting; apparently the computer system ashore had broken down and there was no Plan B to do it manually. I can’t blame them really. Much grovelling on the Main Broadcast by the Captain, with the new arrivals’ dinner not served until 2100 and all the evening programme awry.
We now have a new Captain and this one is reputed to be more gregarious than the last. We haven’t met him yet, so more later.
I could wax poetic about Cape Town and its history, but that would be rather dreary and you could get better information from the Internet. Also, I need to leave scope to bore you silly when we get back. Suffice it to say that we liked it very much, yes we would come here on holiday, and no we probably couldn’t afford to live here. Sailing at midnight, two hours behind schedule, because the South African authorities need two hours to complete the paperwork.
Day 19
Saturday 28 January. Broken cloud. 21ºC. Position: 35deg 09S 21deg 04E, 42 miles south Cape of Infanta; course 085; speed 17 knots. Sea Slight to Moderate, Wind Force 4 from E. We are pitching gently in the long Indian Ocean swell, with Africa still just in sight on the port beam.
It is a busy programme today starting with me queuing outside the Tour Office at 0830 for it to open at 0900. I wanted to book a ‘behind the scenes’ tour of the ship (cost $120) and competition for the only ten places per sector is fierce (I never thought the day would come when I paid money to go around a machinery space and galley). To my surprise, some bloke was already there, and he had pulled over an armchair, if you don’t mind, to make himself comfortable at the front of the queue. It is a wonder he hadn’t brought a tent. Anyway, the queue soon grew, some people joining it without knowing what it was for (it presumably seemed a good idea). Some poor woman drifted over to look at some brochures located at the front of the queue and I could hear some muttering behind me, speculating on whether she was pushing in. I turned round and said, “If she does we’ll beat her to death with shovels”. She heard me, but took it in good spirit.
On the way to breakfast I came across an older woman wearing a headscarf, a thick duffel coat, pink thick trousers and walking boots, shuffling along and clutching a large shopping bag. No it wasn’t Jane. But what on earth was she doing onboard? I can only speculate that she was some Bag Lady who had drifted across the brow in Southampton while looking for Marks and Spencer’s, and has been wandering around like the Flying Dutchman ever since. Should have gone to Specsavers.
We attended the first of a series of lectures on terrorism by a visiting journalist and it was very interesting, if sobering. She started with the 7/7 bombings and is moving on to other topics later. After that (busy, busy) we went to the planetarium to learn about the stars, and this was so good that Jane fell asleep (catching up on the zeds from 2009 this time). And so to lunch. A classical recital (violin and piano) in the graveyard slot proved to be excellent (at last, good entertainment), then we thought we really should get some sunshine so we strolled the upper deck where it was delightfully warm. I had to divert Jane’s gaze from some poseur, oiled and supine on a steamer chair in orange budgie smugglers, lest his tumescent form rekindle old passions and fires that I would be unable to satisfy or extinguish; but her attention had already been drawn to Orca the Whale from Solihull sunbathing on the port side. Didn’t someone once say that the study of Man is Man itself (or something like that)? There is plenty of scope here. You are allowed to disagree with me, but I feel that there is a certain age when men – and indeed women – should not be seen in public topless or wearing shorts.
If the Battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fields of Eton, then the Battle of The Cruise Liner must surely have been won on the steamy decks of the launderette. It is here that gossip is exchanged, places in the queue are jealously guarded, and Bra Rage flairs up periodically. I attend by proxy (see early blog re ‘laundry’), but I get the run down from Jane when she returns with increasingly fascinating tales of spite, vitriol, murder and mayhem. One woman told Jane that, in an earlier voyage, someone had objected to their laundry being removed from the machine in their absence when the cycle had finished (there are trays to leave stuff in – it is not as if the wet dhobying was dumped on the deck); to get their own back, the offended party poured dye into the machine to ruin the wash. Apparently, the offenders were thrown off the ship. Today, Jane reported that some grumpy woman had turned up with four loads of dirty clothes that would monopolise the machines (and herself) for the whole day. I can only presume that she was taking in washing for the whole crew.
As if the three meals a day were not enough, we ventured into the Princess Grill Lounge today to try Afternoon Tea – the first time we have done it. I say, how incredibly civilised! A classical pianist in the corner, cucumber sandwiches, cake and scones…Jane had sandwiches and two cakes, but she is clearly making up for lost time. The tea was very good too. We won’t be able to carry on like this of course.
We arrive at Port Elizabeth tomorrow at 0400, the early time dictated by the requirements of the South African authorities to ‘do the paperwork’. Given that the same authorities required two hours to do the same when we left Cape Town, in the same country, one wonders what on earth they are playing at. Somehow, I am not sure South Africa is projecting an image of welcoming efficiency, what with this and the check-in cock up.
Black Tie Captain’s Cocktail Party tonight for Grill guests (people who use the lavatory, not the toilet) so I must get changed. I suppose you both realise that I will be unbearable after all this for many months, if not years?
"A Very Vintage Chap..." 