Number seven

This is the colour of the sky today and this is the colour of my face (but a bit more golden). Maybe this but anyway it is scorchio! I did the Township tour today (Sat), where a guide takes you to the historic areas as far as Apartheid is concerned and then around some of the shanty towns. It was another last minute booking- the bike hire having been put back till monday- the number of times I have stuck my head in the hostel office and said "OK for another day?" is getting silly. I will definitely go on Wednesday. Anyway the tour. This time my accomplices were four German's- three fogies (who spoke no English- how dare they) and their daughter who did all the translating which easily added an hour to the day but it was nice to chime in with a word of German every now and then- especially when the subject turned to complaints about Christmas stuff being in the shops already. Already! We've had it for an extra month in England, in fact they are probably dusting off the Easter eggs as we speak. The highlight of the tour was a visit to one of the old style shanty towns- there's no way white people can go there unless they are firemen and there's a fire. All the houses (if you can call them that) have dirt floors and walls of wriggly tin. Scabby dogs are 'de riggeur' in the pet department and snotty kids roam free, Though to be fair most people are well clothed, well shod and judging by the size of some of them well fed. They made us welcome in a 'I can't believe you paid to come here' sort of way and to avoid giving away cash I did a deal with some kids to get a cold coke to slate my slight hangover- a can for me and a bottle for them to share as payment. It seemed to work well until they tried to illicit the same deal from the Germans who weren't with the programme. All in all it was a good thing to do. The shanties are being replaced with small but solid block houses with electricity and water (though the residents object to paying for these when they had it free before as a result of 'imaginitive' rewiring) and whole communities are being moved together into free houses which can't be bad. Interestingly many of them immediately extend or build a garge out of... yep, wriggly tin which does spoil the 'curb appeal' as estate agents would say.

I arrived back at the hostel a little jaded by the heat but when a walk to the beach was offered up I accepted without thinking of the huge hill to be climbed en route. There was time for a lay on some lawns at the top as we waited to meet someone who was coming from another direction and the view upon arrival was well worth the walk. The beautiful people were out on display, the sand was fine and white, the sea blue if a little 'parky' and the mountainous backdrop breathtaking. We stayed until the sun went down and caught one of the shuttle taxis plying between the bay and the city. Efforts to organise a barbeque- or braai as they are called here, on the beach had been thwarted by local prohibitions so we grabbed some 'makings' on the way back and got the grill at the hostel fired up. At hour later and our pooled selection of wine was drastically reduced but the embers glowed well into the night and the dental floss was used to excess- which is always the sign of a good braai in my book.