2023 - 08 Capetown, South Africa

The Promise! - Cape Town, Capetown, Ciudad de Cabo

Staying four nights in Franschoek was definitely a mistake. One night would have been enough, and only our wonderful domicile there possibly made up for it a bit. Silly wine cult, silly food, and unbearable ambiance. We should have continued to Cape Town the very next day. Because this metropolis has plenty to offer, besides some pitfalls, to explore and in addition all good wines stocked.

Rose Street 25

No matter where it goes, arriving at a place in the rain is always rather bad. And on this day, we had one of the heaviest downpours I've ever experienced. For this, the damned Garmin GPS led us first of all to a suspicious township - no favella with tin huts, but already correctly built cottages, but the poverty here was not to be overlooked. "Rose Street 25" we had entered, only to find out that there are plenty of them in Cape Town. After entering the zip code 8001, we then found the right one and our hotel "Rouge en Rose". A bit shabby on the outside, everything super styled on the inside.

Where to?

Immediately we started looking for a place to eat, which also turned out to be difficult. We wandered the streets and found nothing, initially passing a portal with the Spanish flag hanging over it. It should turn out that this was one of the restaurants which our German acquaintance had recommended to us.
For breakfast the next morning on TV Luis Rubiales and the "kissing scandal". A worldwide soccer topic in the main headlines for days!

Likewise, the media reported that at 1-0 he jumped up, grabbed his balls and jerked his abdomen back and forth three times (Spanish macho gesture), all under the eyes of the Spanish queen and her daughter, who were sitting right behind him, which ultimately came into play as the main reason for suspension. In addition, according to a family member, he allegedly hired a bevy of very, very young whores for a big event. What kind of people are these who are in the very highest positions?

The dead spots of Capetown ...

If you go here, you better inform yourself well beforehand and download the UBER app on your phone, because cabs are very few, and you should verify the price of the fare beforehand, otherwise they'll rip you off!.. Capetown is an impressive big city, but has many "dead spots", as we then called it: It's hard to explore this city on foot. You search and find nothing.

With a lot of luck or on recommendation, you suddenly find a 150-meter-long strip where bars, cafes and restaurants crowd together, and then again endless nothing, only empty facades and cars parked on the sides of the streets. Finally, early in the first evening, after an unsuccessful exploratory walk, we ended up in a "Tigers Milk", almost right around the corner from us, where at least there was the first edible pizza and - as always - good wine.



The next day we walked to the so tempting sounding "Waterfront". And already here: You search and find nothing. Except that you see here almost only German cars, of course all with right-hand drive wheel! And the majority of them are even produced here.

The Waterfront is to the left of the harbor area and has nothing to offer at all. The only thing we found was a kind of restaurant-mall, that is: a building with several chain-locations and the usual food offer. Two tables away, a black woman with slicked back hair, ugly and fat, with the typical huge ass of overweight women and with the longest pink painted fingernails in the world. Across from her was a chubby, pink-dressed daughter, hammering away on her computer tablet. At first, we wondered in the matter of mother, how you can even operate a cell phone with these fingernails. When I tapped the keys of my cell phone with my electric cigarette, I found that they didn't respond at all. So, no matter how long your fingernails are, you just put the bottom of your finger on the key and just don't touch another one in the process, then it works. But how far has this world come?

And where was the "really good food" that we had been prophesied? We had as good as given up hope. Also in Franschoek nothing delightful, always only these opened, grilled to death Gambas and under Rucola leaves hidden ridiculousness.


The Coast

But then: Our Duesenberg dealer Andreas had recommended us to go to Camps Bay or Clifton. No sooner said than done, into the car and out of town. A pompous, tree-lined, winding exit road led us south, and the landscape became more and more spectacular until we arrived in that impressive seaside resort of Clifton. Wide beach promenade, restaurant after restaurant, colorful hustle and bustle, like on the Spanish or Italian coast. In the first restaurant we had two beers and some raw meat as a snack. That was all right. Then we continued until we found a "Zenzero", whose Italian-style food we found to be the best we had enjoyed so far. There was new hope! Should we ascend to culinary paradise after all?

Then further south towards Hout Bay. A spectacular coastal road with breathtaking scenery, Côte d'Azur nothing compared to it!

Test Bullshit ...

In the evening we went to the "Test Kitchen", the most highly praised restaurant in Cape Town, which unfortunately turned out to be a total tourist nonsense. You don't recognize anything of what you eat. There are no more whole fish, only filleted morsels. First remove the superstructure to be able to discover what low-value materials are usually hidden underneath.
An absolutely silly, disappointing menu in a far off location classified as "dangerous" for about the same price we paid in Madrid's very best fish restaurant in the most expensive part of town, Salamanca! Dressed up kinky with a material price including wine estimated below € 15. All guests clearly tourist couples, who had fallen probably just as on the enormous Vorschusslorbeeren or celebrated this theater even, because they do not know better. Well, for all our pride in our travel habits, we were ultimately just stupid tourists.

Duesenberg - Capetown

The next day Andreas picked us up and drove us to his Duesenberg place. Well sorted, the man, and a nice crew whose guitar specialist gave us a nice demo on one of our "Fullerton" guitars. Then a little tour in his big Porsche SUV, license plate "HAMBURG"! Close to the Waterfront we stopped to buy some drinks and nicotine, and then had some cappuccinos in an Italian import store. Impressive! There was just about everything here, any antipasti, cold cuts, cheeses, baked goods, etc.! Then out, again towards Clifton. At a traffic light crossing Andreas had the windows rolled up as if automatically because of some begging black people. Probably totally unnecessary, but such things seem to have become routine here. One never feels completely safe.

Cape of good hope

Next day, the "Cape of good hope" = mandatory program. Again south and again on this breathtaking coastal road. The whole area here is more than beautiful, and if you are lucky, a monkey crosses your way. But you are warned against these "baboons", because they are often aggressive and don't feed them! They bite your hand!

The cape becomes more and more „capy“, i.e. sparse landscape, empty, spectacular sandy beaches below a curvy 1a country road. Arrived at the Cape of good hope, résumé: "You've seen it"! And here the Indian Ocean and "our Atlantic Ocean" "meet", like the Mediterranean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean at Tarifa.

Back north - Pinguine

But watch out for the return trip! First down to Boulders, a stop for penguin sighting. Down below big rocks in the sea lined a kind of natural swimming pool, but not a single penguin. These cute little animals had made themselves comfortable further above under the numerous bushes, possibly because of the intense heat of over 30 degrees on this day. Video here:

Harbour House

House of the harbor "Harbour House" in Kalks Bay, an unconditional recommendation from Andreas. After a twenty-minute traffic jam and then ingenious escape and evasion on my part against all traffic rules, we arrived there. A white, not exactly tempting-looking, large house in the harbor area, up the stairs and Wow! To the beautiful view of the sea they served us after two beers for the first thirst an excellent Chardonnay and food of the finest. I ordered a "Seafood Platter", which I usually don't do, because you never know what's coming. But the description sounded tempting and everything was first class. 1a oysters, small but fine, fish cooked to the point (not raw, but glassy transparent seeming), the gambas juicy, baked in oil, small squid, and also Palomas Yellowtail on rice perfect. Everything like in a first class Spanish restaurant! Yep, you can really eat well here on the Cape!

Unfortunately, I left the parking lot in the wrong direction, which made it essential to change sides over two flatter curbs. Paloma complained about pain in her neck. Sorry, sorry!

The last day ...

No longer up for big excursions, we started the day very relaxed, then had something to eat around 2pm. Very close, a little below our Rose Street the "Chef's Warehouse". Official oysters and an excellent fish carpaccio along with Graham Beck Brut Rosé and best Vino Blanco. Unfortunately, Andreas called in sick shortly before the evening, flu and 38 degree fever, so we cancelled our dinner date at "Kloof`s" and trudged a hundred meters downhill to the "Bouchon" recommended by our acquaintance. We got a table with sparse light. One of the most expensive wines was "El Niño (330 Rand - always divide by twenty and you have the Euro price). First, the waitress pronounced the wine as "El Nino", that is, without the circumflex over the "n", pronounced by the Spaniard like "El Ninjo". And for sure, this was by far the worst wine on this whole trip, flat, limp, no flavor. Only "Tapas" on the menu including a special offer "three tapas for 265 Rand". Otherwise, each tapa added about 100 rand to the bill. The listed paella with squid ink was not available, to Paloma's disappointment.

Food order = foreign word. The lamb ribs came first, the calamari next, and last but not least the sardines, all rather low quality stuff. In the end, a silly restaurant, and last but not least, we were chased by the waiter - already on the street - because I had mistaken a 200 bill for a 50 bill due to the candle lighting. At night: severe acid reflux.


In the end, travelogues are more about food and curiosities than about the landscape. You better look at landscape things on the internet or in travel guides. Someone once said, my map of this world would not consist of the usual sights, but of the good eating places!

Finally the return flight

A wonderful trip, had it not been for the outward and return flights. Besides the usual delays and after the experiences at the security check at the Amsterdam airport see below, one could seriously consider whether it would not be better to do without air travel nowadays. The airline business has turned into an inhumane rip-off. One feels like a pig, which is led with many further pigs to the slaughterhouse! Those who want to fly must agree to be humiliated, with no options and no way out. The travelers are moved in batches of divided groups, the first queue, waiting (line up), a push further to the next stop, renewed control of boarding passes, and even these are no longer made of this solid, card-like material, but only printed on thin, slack paper. Finally, the only thing missing is that they give us narcotics in generously handed drinks during check-in!


In the process, Holland is living up to its new reputation as a country under an extreme right-wing government with an insane obsession for security. And typically, it is precisely such actually pitiful, uneducated, low-earning types with the lowest IQs who get into these jobs at security checkpoints here, these Nazis who suddenly, feeling a whiff of power, lustily terrorize and humiliate airline passengers.


At the beginning, I had misplaced my feet in the screening rotary kettle and also left a charging unit of my electric cigarette in a pair of pants. Out with it and screened for the second time. Then this huge Dutchman, who looked like a foreign legionnaire, asked me if there was anything left in my pockets. I answer in the negative, but point to the four wooden toothpicks in the breast pocket of my shirt. There this Nazi pig rules me absolutely obscenely: "If I say that all pockets must be empty, then all pockets must be empty!" Four toothpicks, which I'm sure you can't even see on the X-ray! And what's the point? Paloma was also rudely harangued for not holding her hands high enough above her head during the fluoroscopy. Possibly the only positive effect could be that these guys, after having lived out their lust for power during the day, at least beat up their wives less in the evening.


After another passport check, you encounter policemen armed to the teeth until you finally fight your way hundreds of meters to the departure gate. Fear and terror!