TABLE MOUNTAIN, CAPE POINT, South Africa

It was a funicular day! The elements cooperated for a stunning jaunt around the top of Table Mountain

 and a leisurely climb (roughly 139 steps) up to the top of Cape Point. As you scroll through the beauty shots, let them transport you to the relaxed pace of Africa and stop for a moment to soak in the winter-breeze-balm hovering above the clash of the Indian and Atlantic Oceans. (Cape of Good Hope is often touted as the meeting place of the two oceans though the actual merger fluctuates between here and Cape Agulhas roughly 90 miles to the south.)

Our oohs and aahs along the coastal drive out to Cape Point were interrupted only briefly as we encountered fire trucks lined up at the entrance of a mass of squatter shacks built from scavenged scraps by the the flood of foreigners that flee troubled countries to the north (Zimbabwe, Ethiopia, The Congo ...) and swell the capacity of this misbegotten refuge. There are no alleyways for modernities such as fire trucks so the burning goes on.

We forged on past million dollar oceanfront homes to the pristine landscape out at the Cape Peninsula National Park which preserves the flavor of a pre-populated Cape and ponder the fate of some 40 shipwrecked vessels (including the Lusitania) at the base of Bellows Rock that met their peril rounding the Cape.

Mussels and fresh Cod were served at the Harbour House in Kalk Bay as we garnered renewed energy from the contemplative pace of the Indian Ocean. The day was rounded out by a lap around the Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens before we met up with Joan's cousin's daughter for dinner at Beluga.

CAPE TOWN, South Africa

That's where all the people working at your hotel live," said Mark from Tribeca referring to the township he'd visited the previous day as we chatted on the ferry over to Robben Island. (Mark did not go on a "tour" and by his own admission this was a dangerous venture.) I did not want to believe him as I thought of the impeccably dressed warm-mannered man celebrating his 22^nd birthday who served us our coffee at breakfast.  We'd driven past a cluster of shoddily cobbled corrugated tin shacks on our way in from the airport and our driver Sharkie pointed them out as the "place where people live who have no homes." I asked about the area like this I'd seen on our descent. "Yes, that's Khayelitsha," said Sharkie, "1.5 million people live there."

It would be easy for a tourist to be completely unaware of this aspect of Cape Town as it hastily prepares to host the 2010 World Cup. Similar I suppose to a trip to New York without taking in The Bronx. In South Africa, the remnants of apartheid are still felt as we experienced through our guide at the former maximum-security prison on Robben Island where he was incarcerated for "only five years." He used "only" in deference to political leaders such as Nelson Mandela who was imprisoned on Robben Island for 18 years (see photo of his cell). The political dissidents were kept separate from the murderers and rapists and were considered a dangerous influence.

From 1846 through 1931 Robben Island was a Leper Colony. The lepers were cared for by Irish doctors who dispersed due to the Irish Potato Famine, adding to the host of immigrants that settled in Cape Town.

Our visit to the Castle of Good Hope, the fort built by the Dutch in 1666, highlighted the various battles in establishing ownership of this beautiful and strategically well-positioned city. My mind has never been good at sorting out the dates and figures that define wars so after a quick pass-through I headed over to the dungeon and was glad for an out of the way solitary place. When I learned that the dark, cool room I'd joyfully encountered might have held 25 people, I left thinking I'd just curl up and die if unfortunate enough to be thrown in such a place.

We arrived at the Castle of Good Hope just as several groups of school children gathered on the lawn to watch a reenactment of the changing of the guard. This culminated in the mighty blast of a miniature cannon followed by hearty applause of the children. I'm wondering now how many of those children live in the makeshift abodes that, according to Sharkie, are not considered homes.