Bumbling Along in Blaauwklippen

This day has lasted 42 hours... or at least so it seems!

After an evening of homemade soup, apple crumble and hours of sifting through Hilda's old photo albums documenting my friend Cath's radiant adolescence (oh, the haircuts!) in Johannesburg and Simon's Town, we bid the lovely seaside village adieu, and headed north along the coast with one goal in mind: Wine Country.

Driving along the coast was a magnificent ride, though admittedly, I seem to be battling a low grade, constant queasiness, as a passenger-on-the-left, feeling as though we are about to crash into light poles and sideswipe buses. Somehow, I don't think I've ever been in a car where people drive on the other side of the road.

Again, the weather. One moment it's sunny and gorgeous, with light streaming over the sea, turning the water brilliant shades of azure and emerald. The next, violent gangs of clouds come roaring over the peaks hugging the shore, and there is torrential downpour with winds threatening to flick our tin-can-car into the ocean. These rains are the kind of rains where you just don't even bother trying to keep dry - there's simply no point.

And onward we drove, along the coast, and then inland, up the hills to Stellenbosch, regarded as one of the great wine regions of South Africa, home to hundreds upon hundreds of wineries.

I'd like to start with a story. My friend Dimitri lives on the north shore of Long Island, also home to many vineyards... One weekend, Dimitri deposited me into his car, and took me wine tasting along the North Fork. He explained his theory to me: "After the first vineyard and first round of tastings, you say 'Ah, this is good.' After the second, you exclaim 'This is wonderful wine!' And after the third vineyard and round of tasting, which invariably is the best so far, you cheerfully embrace the sommelier who is so friendly, and end up buying a bottle of wine, or two, or three..."

So far, I've proven Dimitri theory to be true twice; once on the North Fork, and again today in Stellenbosch. We started off at Blaauwklippen, a gorgeous old estate dating back to the 17th century. We started off with a delicious lunch - I skipped the salad, and immediately ordered the ostrich (no offense to the lovely bird I saw roaming around the Cape of Good Hope yesterday!), paired with a wonderful house red. From there, we tore ourselves away from the braai (fireplace) and dashed across the grounds, through wind and sleet, into the tasting room, where we chatted with Wayne, the sommelier, for a quite some time. He liked us, so he discarded the standard tasting menu, and shared his personal recommendations with us - for over an hour. About 6 or 7 tastings later, we wound our way through the countryside, up and down hills (or at least it felt that way) to this vineyard, and that vineyard, singing songs, speaking in South African accents (or our bastardized versions, that is), laughing so hard our sides were splitting (this was all in the privacy of our car - we tried hard not to sully the stellar reputation of the American traveler!), finally ending up at the Spiers (again, Cath, thanks for the recommendation), and Saxenburg Wineries, where we drank a Cab and Shiraz, both of which won "Best in Country" awards in 2003. Good stuff.

And don't worry, Jane was the designated driver. And I was the designated chatter.

We both did very well in our respective responsibilities.

At the end of the day, we tumbled into our lawnmower-car, and sped along country and mountain roads, meandering our way back to Cape Town.

We passed a township along the way, which served as a startling and sobering (literally) reminder of the stark contrast and division in this country. Tin shacks, with plastic sheeting for walls, packed next to each other, as if they were bodies huddling together to keep warm, for as far as the eye could see. How do you reconcile this kind of poverty? How can you not want to work on economic development, ensuring opportunity and education and access, making good on the promises that were made fourteen years ago? How do you not get overwhelmed or heavy-hearted with the injustice? Sorry. This kind of thinking usually stays inside of my head (is anyone reading this anyhow?).

And now I'm back in Cape Town, my belly full of spaghetti and meatballs (the dish I seem to crave whenever I travel - and I still say the best exists in Guatemala). Tomorrow we'll try to get to Robben's Island, where Mandela was imprisoned for 27 years - the winds have made the sea so choppy that the boats were canceled today. Tomorrow night we leave for Johannesburg, where we'll connect to a flight to Madagascar, and see my friend Luc!

A word about security in Capetown. In addition to the weather, people seem to spend a lot of time here talking about crime. Homes, offices and private buildings are heavily walled, with razor wire and security guards. We're constantly being reminded to lock our car doors, and keep our bags on the floor to avoid "smash and grabs" which seem pervasive. Hilda told us of a neighbor who was stabbed to death in her home, by burglars looking for some loot. And never, ever, are we to walk outside at night. Normally, I'm used to these warnings, which I heed, albeit with some cynicism - simply read a tourism book advising travelers in NYC and you'll understand the hype and fear - but these advisories have a sense of urgency and gravitas, that, even though I don't *see* this possibility lurking around the corner, I definitely feel it.

The only other place I've felt that, is living in El Salvador, truly fearful of the gangs who had been deported from the USA for their growing criminal records, and sent back home, where they would terrorize their neighbors - having been slightly Americanized, and no longer totally Salvadoreno, they would create pockets of members, taking over who sections of El Salvador.

Questions answered: Yes, you can drink the water here. People speak English, though you hear Afrikaans, and dozens of other African languages all around you. The people here among the friendliest I've ever met. And everything is less expensive, though not completely cheap.

And now, sleep. Strangely, I haven't had a drop of jetlag!

I hope you're well!