After a big afternoon of fighting blowing sand and out-of-tune beach singers working for loose Rands, we decided to get out of Cape Town for a bit. And what better way than to don a wetsuit and cheer erratically when fish head bait proved useful?
Ah, yes, shark diving. We got picked up at 5:30 a.m., went for a two hour drive up the coast, then hopped on a freezing boat to fight over who got to get into the cage first. The sharks are massive. And friend Jaime proved quite the champo upon getting back in the tank after losing breakfast to seasickness (“boot and rally, boot and rally”). Definately recommend, but check the weather first.
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Today was a crazy day at the paper, especially for a Sunday. Went to services at St. George’s Cathedral, where Desmond Tutu gave some of his most famous speeches. For the rest of the day I was with a 40-something, mountain bike rider/photographer and we (meaning the two of us, Pink Floyd and an old camper) went to the opening of a sea rescue center (“The manager’s vulgar,” photo man tells me, “and that means you’ll like him. You’re American!”) and the scene of a car accident (don’t leave your car on the side of the road while visiting a friend’s farm–you never know which drunk driver might hit it at one p.m.).
In the afternoon we went to a wine gala/charity event for the Organ Donation Foundation. They had a fashion show with South African designers, but better than the nouve riche were the kids who’d all had at least two kidney operations and were running around all over the place. It was great to see, especially since the next exit on the way home from the gorgeous winelands is the Mitchell’s Plain township with hundreds of shacks. I don’t think I will ever get used to it–incredibly disheartening, especially in a country that has the strongest economy on the continent.