A few years ago I gave up looking up too many details about the places I plan to travel to. As an adept traveler, I am sure that whatever is worth experiencing will find its way to my path eventually; if it doesn’t, maybe it wasn’t as worth it to me. Apart from looking for a room as close to the center as possible (my two feet are my preferred means of exploring) and maybe reading a couple of travel blogs from travelers I trust, I don’t do much research at all. As someone who likes to walk, I am positive that the wonders I seek to find will find me instead.
Consequently, arriving to South Africa and Cape Town had quite a few surprises waiting for me.
The country has been experiencing power supply problems since 2007, manifesting as widespread rolling blackouts as electricity supply falls behind electricity demand. These happen three times per day in my area, each one lasting two and a half hours, and in some areas longer. People owning smartphones can download an app to be notified of the blackouts – or load shedding as the locals call it – and prepare accordingly. Luckily, many hotels and restaurants have purchased generators to at least keep some basic functions going (such as internet access) even throughout the shedding.
During one of those sheddings and after being woken up abruptly from a bad dream, I left my dark bedroom and the spells casted by Hypnos, the Greek God of sleep and twin brother of Death. Ready to feel alive again, the bright sun and the colorful bougainvilleas welcomed me as one of their own.
Cape Town’s winter seems almost as warm as Seattle’s hottest summer day – I hope the locals wearing sweaters and jackets when the temperature is 23C/76F never get to find out what winter in other parts of the world means. T-shirt on and black coffee already working its magic, I was ready to be taught new lessons by the world I had just started trotting.
A chatty taxi driver drove me to the Table Mountain Aerial cable, where along with other awestruck first-timers we ascended one of the seven new wonders of the world. At the top the wind blew my hair in all directions, making me mourn once again all three hair ties I’ve misplaced in less than two weeks – a miracle really, since I’ve never lost anything before while traveling. I guess I was meant to be wild this trip.
It takes about three hours to walk around the whole mountain, something that I had no desire to accomplish. Avoiding the crowds, I reached a spot overlooking the Cape of Good Hope, the most south tip of Africa; nothing beyond that, apart from the continent of Antarctica, miles away from where I stood.
“You did it!” I told a person descending from one of the hardest parts of the mountain’s hike. “Every day!”, they responded, as they kept going. A full sentence really, an easy answer naturally outed; two words full of compassion and action alike.
My next steps led me to Bo-Kaap, a popular destination that attracted me both for its unique appearance and its empowering history. In the 1760’s a white man bought a piece of land close to the area now established as the center of Cape Town and built homes to be leased to his slaves. When slavery was abolished the people were free to finally own land and with it, their own homes. While a property of the enslaver, all houses had to be painted white and looking identical to each other. Following the end of slavery, the free people and new homeowners decided that their walls don’t have to conform any more than they themselves had to, and now each home stands proud, brightly colored and alive, a unique declaration of freedom. A former racially segregated area and a mix of different architectures, Bo-Kaap is a significant part of Cape Town’s cultural heritage. Walking the uphill cobblestone streets enclosed by emblematic homes that sing of independence, it’s impossible to not feel the neighborhood’s celebratory identity and purpose.
One of the most wonderful aspects of traveling is getting to know a country’s history through its people, its streets and structures, even its food. I have come to realize that in the eyes of most locals I will always be a tourist, someone who needs “help spending their money”, and I can understand this. It is my duty, whether I am traveling or not, to create a balanced give and take with the world, wherever and whenever possible. In the end I am just a passerby, an observer, someone who seeks to learn from the world rather than someone who arrogantly thinks that I can, and should, make a difference in everyone’s life. However, in learning more details about South Africa’s history, I felt shame and disgust towards the human race – not my first time experiencing this, and probably not the last either. Growing up I learned some details about South Africa’s history and Nelson Mandela and his work, however, I was always protected from the ugly details of colonization and the pain and disadvantages it causes up to today to entire nations, and has for centuries. Or maybe, I am simply privileged.
What does it take for someone to keep on fighting for what they know is theirs? How does one celebrate when they attain their freedom? Some people leave their family homes and build anew far and away from their ancestors’ land, and some stay put, claiming their land as their own, painting their walls in the most vibrant colors for everyone to see; some people dare to spend decades imprisoned, staying true to their beliefs; and some people travel the world seeking for a deeper truth than the superficial lies they were taught, and in the meantime, they make friends with their ignorance and their selves.
Let the Sun see me and wrinkle my face, and let my unruly gray hair flow freely in the skies, leaving its trace behind me along with my footsteps; let me discover segments of truth in the words of great people, whether I meet them on mountaintops or in history books. Let me paint my mind’s walls as brightly as the whole world’s flowers, and celebrate my growth. Transforming my self has never been more colorful than right at this moment.