Halfway Across the South Atlantic, Cape Town to Buenos Aires

26 October 2012

My mid-voyage cold hit two days ago: runny nose, watery eyes, occasional sneezing, miserable. And today, I’m hacking as the cold descends into my chest and lungs. I’m probably keeping my neighbors awake at night, though we’ve been gaining an hour each night for the past three, so at least we’re all getting some extra sleep. On the last voyage, the cold hit when we arrived in Vietnam and was a big distraction during our drive from CamRahn to Dalat. At least this time, it’s only distracting from the sight of the endless waters of the South Atlantic. Oh, and from my classes, of course.

South Africa

The weather cooperated, and our early-morning arrival into Cape Town was spectacular. I woke at 5:30, looked out my balcony window, and there was Table Mountain, capped by a thin layer of clouds but otherwise surrounded by the deep blue of the bay, the brightening skies from the rising sun, and the twinkling lights of the city lining the mountain’s base like a Christmas tree blanket. It was the same scene I remembered from our arrival in October ’09 and just as beautiful.

This time, we docked about a half mile from the Victoria and Alfred (V&A) Waterfront, the harborside mall, dining, and entertainment area where we had tied up in ’09. The entrance to the waterfront from the ocean is a narrow passage cut into a breakwater, and I remember marveling three years ago as the crew of Explorer, helped by a couple of South African tugs, slipped through that opening and tied up directly in front of the 5-star hotel that anchors the area.

The following year, the ship had tried the same passage but was prevented by the sizeable swells that occur regularly in the waters between Cape Town and Robbin Island. So Explorer had to anchor outside the harbor for a day until the waters calmed enough to allow a safe entry into the waterfront. That was the last time the ship tried to go in. Besides, I’m sure where we docked this year—about a 15-minute walk from the V&A—is much less expensive than the prime location we had in ’09. This year, it’s all about costs.

On our first day, Thursday 18 October, I had a field lab scheduled for my public speaking class. Immediately after the ship cleared customs, the 13 of us boarded a small bus and rode, accompanied by a local guide, to the buildings housing the South African Parliament. My hope was that we could sit in on at least a committee meeting of Parliament and perhaps even a session of one of the houses. We were lucky on both counts.

The committee in session when we arrived was charged with overseeing South African police and security. The members of the committee—about 15 representing both the majority African National Congress (ANC: Nelson Mandela’s party) and the opposition Democratic Alliance—were pouring over a budget proposal submitted by the directorate for police and security. Twenty-five years ago, the faces on both sides of the committee room—the side where members were seated and the side holding the uniformed police and security officials—would have been white. Now the faces are predominantly black or, as the South Africans refer to those of mixed race, colored.

The chairperson of the committee is white, and she was hammering the folks from the directorate on what she, and other members of the committee, claimed have been years of lax administration of security matters. Violent crime in South Africa is down, but domestic violence is up dramatically, probably a result of the economic downturn and the impact that is having on family relations. Moreover, criminals are escaping from prisons in very high percentages. The result was a blistering attack on the directorate by the committee members. It was an excellent demonstration of both the importance of preparation in a public speaking presentation as well as the power of passion.

We had a similar demonstration when we sat in on the opening of the National Council of Provinces that afternoon. The NCP is the South African equivalent of our Senate, with 10 representatives selected from each of the 9 provinces. And, like a meeting of the US Senate, only a handful of representatives were present. But, again, we saw and heard several presentations that provided excellent teaching fodder for a parttime professor of communication.

We returned to the ship around 16:00 (4pm), and I walked over to the V&A to get some South African cash (Rand) and a couple bottles of wine from the wonderful little store I had discovered in ’09. South African wine is wonderfully tasty, often very rich (especially the reds), and cheap. I picked up a couple of cabernets that were on special for 49 rand. That’s about $6/bottle. I cracked into the first of them two nights ago. Wonderful!

That evening, I joined Jim and Shamim, accompanied by Kay Slaughter, a UVA professor of environmental science, at a restaurant southeast of Cape Town named Buitenverwachting (BAY ton fair FAC ting), a spot J&S had discovered in ’09. The drive into the hills and, eventually, through shaded suburbs and vineyards was fascinating. The food was magnificent. Every course was preceded by a palate pleaser “compliments of the chef.” And even the wine we selected—a very good chardonnay—was paired with a complimentary bottle “from the chef.” The food was delicious and the presentations were works of fine art—almost too nicely prepared to destroy with knife and fork. But we did, and the tastes complemented the show. All in all, one of the best meals I’ve enjoyed anywhere. And the total tab (including cab fare): about $56 each. In Chicago or NYC, we would have been looking at $125 a pop . . . at lesser known places.

The next day—Friday—Jim picked up a rental car, we loaded suitcases and golf clubs into the very tight trunk, and drove off for Stellenbosch, the town 50 miles (at most) east of Cape Town in the heart of one of the best wine valleys in the world.

Three years ago, I made the obligatory stops in South Africa: safari on a preserve to see “the big five”; tour through a township (Khayelitsha) to observe the extreme poverty in which many Black Africans still live, despite the end of apartheid 20 years ago; a boat trip to Robbin Island to visit South Africa’s Alcatraz, where Nelson Mandela spent 27 years as a political prisoner. This year would be the more sybaritic visit. And, of course, there would be golf.

The drive to Stellenbosch from Cape Town takes less than an hour on South Africa’s superb highway system.   All the motorways and surface highways look freshly resurfaced. And the signage is flawless. The fact South Africa was settled only a few hundred years ago means that their highway system is built less on old goat paths and more on planned layouts, so navigating is far easier than it is in Europe. Plus, of course, the signs are in English. The signage and streets more than make up for the wrong-side driving.

We stopped before Stellenbosch at the first vineyard we saw—can’t recall the name now—and sampled some excellent reds and whites. Then we drove through side roads to a place Shamim had discovered online: the Jordan Winery. As luck would have it—and as we discovered later—we had stumbled across a spot regarded by locals as one of the best wine and food stops in the valley. Again, we enjoyed a memorable meal (one that began at 1:30 and didn’t end ‘til close to 4pm) looking out on the rolling hills of the Stellenbosch Valley. Their excellent wines are available in the US, using the name Jardin, French for “garden.”

The coast of South Africa—at least the part I’ve seen between Cape Town, the Cape of Good Hope, and the Strand of False Bay—is dramatic: sheer cliffs falling into the sea; wide, sandy beaches; bays that remind me of the south side of Hong Kong Island, with its high-rise, white condos clinging to the sides of mountains.

But the interior east of Cape Town is some of the most beautiful country I’ve ever experienced. Mountains like the Rockies west of Denver line part of the valley. But the peaks, the tops of which are only 3,000 to 4,000 feet above sea level, are rocky and bare, looking like they belong 10,000 feet higher, above tree line. Lining other parts of the valley are rolling hills that look borrowed from the Appalachians: green and lush. Between the peaks and the hills are endless fields of grapes, broken up only by huge trees and, at least in the early spring, row after row of flowers. And spaced neatly throughout the valley are the towns: Stellenbosch, Franshoek, Paarl, and others, composed mostly of white and pastel buildings that look as if freshly painted yesterday. Combine that scenery with some of the world’s finest wine, superb restaurants, charming bed-and-breakfasts, and—oh yes!—beautiful golf courses, and you have a paradise. By the way, the weather is pretty nice too: California-like in its cool winters and warm, dry summers. If only it weren’t half a world away!

The Europeans are lucky. South Africa is, for most, only a 9-hour flight . . . with no jet lag! And they travel south in droves. Jim and I played golf at two different courses, pairing, first, with a couple from the UK, then a couple from Austria. Both had found second homes in the valley or on the coast of False Bay.

For me, Pearl Valley—about 5 miles south of the town of Paarl—would be the place to settle. A Jack Nicklaus-designed golf course, nicely laid out homes and condos, a comfortable club and restaurant . . . and a 20-hour flight away.

The three of us stayed in a B&B in Stellenbosch, a place named Keren’s Vine after the two German owners, Kersten and Rene, and the faux grape vine they have decorating their front gate. Very nice place, friendly hosts, convenient. Besides two days of golf—one at Nicklaus’s Pearl Valley, the other at Stellenbosch golf club—we ate wonderfully (including a fine meal and some excellent scotch at Ernie Ells’s “Big Easy” restaurant in Stellenbosch), drank wine amply (including a magnificent pinotage from the Lanzerac vineyard that, sadly, isn’t available in the US), and managed to dodge the raindrops that were all around us during the 3-day stay.

On Monday the 22^nd, we drove back to Cape Town the long way: south to False Bay, then west along the coast to the town of Fish Hoek, where we stopped for a fish-and-chips lunch. Finally we cut through the mountains to the Atlantic coast, wound our way along the cliffs overlooking those suburban bays, and finally arrived back at the port a little after 3pm.

I had enough time, after checking back onto the ship, to walk over to the V&A Waterfront in order to unload my remaining Rand on some snacks and toiletries.

We were supposed to leave Cape Town at 20:00 (8pm) that night. But the winds were so strong—white caps and mist even inside the breakwater—that the port authority recommended we sit tight until the weather improved. So we spent that night and most of Tuesday morning still moored to Cape Town, though sequestered on board. It was a class day. We finally departed in the middle of my late-morning public speaking class—the group I had started my South Africa visit with.

So far, the South Atlantic has been kind: smooth seas and blue skies, though cool. The forecast for the two days before we arrive in Buenos Aires is for much more roll in the seas—some are saying swells as high as 20 feet—and maybe some rain. Hope the forecast is wrong.

Tomorrow is the 5^th consecutive class day, then we have a day off for what’s called “Sea Olympics,” when students dress in colors to represent their “seas,” meaning the sections of the ship where they’re living, and compete in events like egg tosses, relays, dodge ball in the enclosed basketball court on deck 7, even synchronized swimming. Yes, the faculty fields a team too. I’ve been drafted onto the orange-pass relay team; we pass an orange held under our chins from one member to another, without using our hands, of course. We have no team workouts scheduled.