Honestly. There is so much to do and see all day, all night, that it becomes utterly exhausting, and a change of pace is often the best course of action. So, after an unforgettable few days taking in Cape Town's mountains, prison camps, bars, beaches and shanty towns, it was time to hit the road.
I had a bit of difficulty hiring a car because of the bloody Mining Conference that is going on in Cape Town and seems to be making access to transport facilities so difficult. I couldn't understand it. Then I remembered that South Africa is a country rich in minerals and gold, and so a mining conference here is probably an international draw. My mental image of Arthur Scargill in the Blackpool Winter Gardens sporting a 'Coal Not Dole' sticker on his lapel was doubtless not a true reflection of this event.
Anyway, I managed to hire a small and relatively cheap car to transport me around the Western Cape for the next nine days. At around 10am on the Wednesday, I set off down the Atlantic Coast towards Cape Point. I passed beach after beach of stupendous beauty and had to stop after what seemed like every two minutes to take pictures. All I could think was how marvellous it would be to live here. I felt a strange mixture of amazing contentment and overwhelming fear about returning to the misery of England.
After a couple of hours driving along the most picturesque route I have ever seen outside of New Zealand, I arrived at the Cape of Good Hope Nature Reserve. On yet another gloriously hot day, I clambered up the steps to the vantage point of the upper lighthouse, which is said to resemble the end of the world. As I watched the sea lap at the rocks below and glanced at the pristine white sand on bays along the coastline, it didn't feel like the end of the world to me. There were signs pointing out how far we were from various places in the world. London was 9,632 kilometres away. Not far enough.
It is at Cape Point that the Indian and Atlantic oceans meet. The currents flowing through the Atlantic make the water exceptionally cold in even the warmest weather, whilst a warm current flowing through the Indian makes the water, erm, you get the picture. The upshot means that, depending on which beach you go to, the water in South Africa can be unbearably cold or very pleasant.
After a couple of great hours looking at this stunning part of the world - resplendent with baboons strolling around all over the place - I bombed up the coastal road straddling the mountains and False Bay back up towards Cape Town. I adore long, picturesque drives on holiday. I turn the car into a mobile version of Cafe del Mar by playing a succession of relaxing and uplifting tunes, and generally feel at one with absolutely everything. Unfortunately, as I headed into the centre of Cape Town to connect me to the N2 motorway that would take me out towards the winelands (my evening destination) I took a wrong turning. This meant I had to go back on myself one junction in order to get on the correct part of the road, and consequently meant I went to the back of an almighty rush hour traffic jam. From paradise to the equivalent of Potters Bar on the M25 in just a few moments. Quite an achievement.
Eventually I fought my way through the traffic and arrived at my hotel in the Stellenbosch area just before 6. After showering and a few welcome glasses of wine, I caught a cab into town.
Stellenbosch is one of the main places people base themselves to visit the numerous wineries in the area. It is the second oldest European settlement in South Africa, and you very quickly clock its Victorian architecture and tree-lined streets. It feels proper colonial. On the other hand, it is home to a very large student population studying at the University of Stellenbosch. So it's a cross between refined and rag week.
My evening out in Stellenbosch was mixed. It evidently sports a terrific array of restaurants, but pretty much all the bars are geared up for the students. This has the predictable pros and cons. On the up side, a pint of beer cost me roughly a pound. On the other, every bar was teeming full of twats. One girl walked into me, spilt her drink and tried to suggest it was somehow my fault. And it didn't get much better wherever else I went. To be fair, none of the behaviour was anything worse than you would see from students back home. As it was a Wednesday night, it brought back memories of Wednesdays when I was at uni, when all the sports teams played games and would then congregate in the campus bars and take it in turns to be as obnoxious as humanly possible. Only this time I was hearing it in Afrikanns.
Fortunately the evening was saved when I found a lovely little restaurant and was able to order the signature meal of this trip - steak, peppercorn sauce and fries. All washed down with merlot and brandy.
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