After 25 nights aboard the Regent Seven Seas Splendor, we walked off the ship in Cape Town and began the next part of our trip.
We had already had our first glimpse of the city the previous evening, when we visited Table Mountain and drove back along the coast through Camps Bay, Clifton and Sea Point.
Now we had four nights to explore on our own before flying to Botswana.
We stayed at Welgelegen House, a small boutique hotel that would be our base for the next few days.
The Cape Peninsula
Our first full day was devoted to the Cape Peninsula.
We drove south along the coast with our guide, Buja, stopping periodically for photographs before reaching Cape Point National Park and the Cape of Good Hope.
I hadn't expected my reaction.
Standing at the Cape gave me goosebumps.
The scenery itself was beautiful, but I knew I'd seen equally beautiful coastlines elsewhere. What affected me was realizing where we were.
We were standing near the tip of Africa.
We hiked for about an hour from one side of the peninsula to the other and then had lunch at Two Oceans Restaurant overlooking the water. We shared prawns, a Greek salad and hake.
Sitting there, looking out over the ocean, I wrote in my notes: "Having such a great time, not a worry in the world." Followed immediately by: "We are some lucky motherfuckers!"
On the drive back, we stopped at Buffels Bay Beach.
I almost didn't get into the water. But when we saw the beach, we decided we had to.
We changed, went in for a few minutes and were glad we did. The water was warmer than California but cooler than Hawaii, and the setting was beautiful.
We could easily have spent the entire day just exploring the peninsula.
Our next stop was Boulders Beach to see the penguins.
They were fun to see, although after having visited Antarctica a few years earlier, we had to admit that the experience was somewhat anticlimactic.
A Day With Buja
The following morning we'd planned to Uber to the botanical gardens and then perhaps visit a winery in Constantia.
Instead, Buja found us at the hotel and offered to take us around again.
Our first request was considerably less ambitious: an ATM and coffee.
He took us to Truth Coffee, where Shirley ordered a latte and I ordered a long black with milk on the side. We shared an enormous almond croissant.
The coffee was excellent. The shop didn't put sugar on the tables because, according to them, their coffee wasn't bitter enough to need it.
They weren't wrong.
From there, Buja drove us through Cape Town, pointing out places with historical significance, including where Nelson Mandela had spoken after his release from prison.
Then he took us to his hometown.
Langa Township
Before entering Langa, Buja explained that this wasn't intended to be a "poverty tour." People in the township wanted visitors to come and understand their community.
He showed us the different levels of housing—from corrugated-metal shanties to social housing, individual homes and an area jokingly called "Beverly Hills," where homes had small yards.
The conditions were difficult for us to comprehend.
Many residents walked 100 or 200 meters for water. Toilets were communal. Small shops sold things such as individual eggs or half loaves of bread because that was what customers could afford at one time.
At one point Buja jokingly pointed to one of the nicer homes and said something like: "And that house on the right is my house. Just kidding."
We laughed.
Then it occurred to us that if that wasn't his home, one of the other homes we'd passed—or one much like them—was.
Buja got out and walked with us through several blocks.
We saw food stands selling "walkies," chicken feet; "talkies," chicken heads; and "smilies," boiled sheep heads. We passed a woman preparing sheep heads beside an old drum being used as a fire pit and a man cleaning what appeared to be cow intestine at a community water source.
We stopped at a museum and learned more about the struggle against apartheid.
What made this different from some of our experiences in West Africa was Buja.
This wasn't a bus driving us through an impoverished neighborhood while we looked out the windows.
We were walking through the community with someone who had grown up there and still called it home.
Talking with him reinforced something very simple: people everywhere largely want the same things—opportunity, security and the chance for their children to thrive.
From Langa to Constantia
From Langa, we drove to Simon's Restaurant at a winery in Constantia.
The transition was jarring.
A short time earlier we'd been walking among corrugated structures, communal toilets and food stalls selling individual eggs.
Now we were sitting on a beautiful wine estate surrounded by manicured grounds.
Shirley had fish, mashed potatoes and vegetables with a glass of Merlot. I had a gourmet burger and an ale.
We toasted our good fortune.
The little phrase from the day before came back again: We are some lucky motherfuckers.
What we'd expected to be a short tour had turned into five and a half hours.
When we returned to the hotel, we tipped Buja $80. He thanked us and said he'd be able to buy groceries for his parents.
That gave me goosebumps again.
The first time had been standing at the Cape of Good Hope.
The second had been walking through Langa.
The third was realizing what that tip meant to him.
A Day Without Much of a Plan
We kept our final day relatively open.
After a slow breakfast, we took an Uber to the botanical gardens and spent more than two hours walking through them.
Rather than Uber back, we bought tickets for a hop-on hop-off bus and continued exploring Cape Town.
We got off near the Sea Point Promenade, stopped at a hotel for a late bite and a drink, and then walked along the waterfront toward the lighthouse.
Eventually we got back on the bus and continued to the V&A Waterfront.
We shopped for a few practical things—a neck buff for me, more sunscreen and a sling bag for Shirley—then had dinner at Tasha's before returning to the hotel.
It wasn't a particularly momentous day.
It was simply a nice day wandering around Cape Town.
Then we had to pack.
Our upcoming safari flights required soft-sided luggage, so all the things we'd carried aboard the Splendor suddenly had to fit into two backpacks.
It was not relaxing.
I had seen a 70-liter duffel at the Waterfront earlier that day and decided not to buy it.
By that evening, I wished I had.
What We'll Remember
We'll remember the clouds spilling over Table Mountain on our first evening in Cape Town.
We'll remember standing at the Cape of Good Hope and getting goosebumps simply because we were near the tip of Africa.
We'll remember swimming at Buffels Bay when I almost didn't bother getting into the water.
We'll remember the penguins at Boulders Beach being slightly less impressive after Antarctica.
We'll remember the coffee and enormous almond croissant at Truth Coffee.
We'll remember Buja.
And we'll remember walking through Langa with him, then shortly afterward sitting on a beautiful wine estate in Constantia trying to reconcile the two worlds we'd experienced in a single afternoon.
Would We Return?
Yes.
Four nights wasn't enough to know Cape Town particularly well, but we liked it.
It was beautiful, easy to explore and much more comfortable and familiar than we might have imagined before arriving in South Africa.
There were things we'd missed and things we'd happily do again. We could have spent considerably more time on the Cape Peninsula alone.
But after more than a month of cities, ports, restaurants and sightseeing, something completely different was waiting for us.
On January 17, we packed our soft-sided bags, left the rest of our luggage behind in Cape Town, and headed to the airport.
We were going on safari.