As my cab driver headed away from the airport and toward Cape Town, my body buzzed with excitement as I was face-to-face with the world-famous Table Mountain. I was completely awed by the seaside city that is guarded by the mountain -- its demeanor was completely different from that of Johannesburg. Cape Town is a laid-back, friendly town where hospitality is king. Johannesburg is tense, congested, and comparatively cold. Not to mention extremely dangerous. I felt every muscle relax as we drove into the city, past the colorful corrugated tin roofs of the temporary settlements, and along the coastline.
Forty minutes and ZAR 300 later, I arrived at my hotel in Bantry Bay. It was a boutique hotel with a view of the ocean from its popular new restaurant. It was still early in the morning by the time I got into my room and flopped onto the bed. I lay very still, eyes closed, as I listened to the waves crashing against the shore below. Cape Town was heaven, or at least as close to heaven one could get without having to die.
Later in the afternoon, I awoke from my nap and explored the area around my hotel. There was a pharmacy, run by a friendly and knowledgeable white couple (they really helped me out later in the week when I was stricken with a mysterious fever); an Irish pub; a shopping district; and, of course, a boardwalk. I walked about half a kilometer down to the boardwalk, then another two or three kilometers along it, watching the waves come in and waiting for my perfect snapshots.
Of course this experience, like any other, was a learning one for me, and I learned that sometimes you find what you want precisely when you want.
Sometimes you find what you think you want until you use hindsight and realize that what you had was a big mess.
But sometimes, if you are patient, you wait and wait and wait, and you get exactly what you have been waiting for.
Apparently, I have been waiting for Cape Town. And she was waiting for me.
"Welcome home," she said.
