We went out yesterday afternoon to the Waterfront. I didn't know why it's capitalised either. It's a sort of shopping stroke restaurant cafe bar complex which looks out across the main old bay of Cape Town. The town was founded as a port for sailors rounding the Cape and it remains a working port, so the view consisted in large part of container ships and tugs, but also mountains (they are hard to avoid). Anyway we walked round for a bt and decided to go for (half price!) cocktails and dinner. Our conversation went like this.
Adam: I have R300 so we should keep below that for dinner.
Sandra: It's ok I have my card.
Adam: Alright then. *orders wine*
...
Waitress: That'll be R302
Sandra: Adam my card's in your wallet.
Adam: What this old one?
Sandra: Adam you have the wrong card.
Adam: Er, Waitress...
So we have promised to go back again tonight. Two rand is less than 20p so it's not that bad.
Oh yes. A story I forgot from yesterday. After pulling our baggage off the carousel in Joburg, we went to take it away on the trolley when some blokes with a sniffer dog came round. They'd already been round once so we thought nothing of it, until the dog became very interested in my hand luggage. So much so in fact that the aforementioned blokes made me take it apart on the floor. Bearing in mind these dogs are supposed to be looking for cocaine or explosives or somesuch it did not look good. The culprit turned out eventually to be... Aniket. Who as I said had packed us some tasty pasta salad, which also included an entire cooked chicken. Which the dog wanted. I've never seen guards so fascinated by the contents of a lunchbox (maybe it wasn't just the dog who was hungry) but eventually we were released, only of course to be stopped again on the way out of Cape Town airport as described below.
Today we are off to the main part of town. Pictures to follow.
Showing posts with label Flights. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Flights. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Arrival
So about 24 hours after leaving Camden, we have arrived in Cape Town.
Stood up most of the way to Heathrow.
11 hours in the middle of a row of ten on a 747 to Joburg.
3 hours wandering OR Tambo airport talking to people, of which more later...
2 hours in a 737, which I am now identifying as "the ryanair plane"
Lift to the hostel
Lie down.
I've been on Ryanair more times in the last year than is reasonable for anybody and so hadn't realised flights could be quite nice. In between sending BA cabin crew to fetch me G&Ts (if they want to strike they should earn it first) I watched Salt which was terrible and half of the Godfather which was worse, but it beats sitting next to a perspiring obesity statistic with your water bottle stolen by security men and a cackling Irish airline magnate demanding three quid for a new one.
Oh also I discovered that talking to said airport security men results in your bag being checked for explosives.
Anyway after getting through reclaim (thank you Granny for the strap but nobody else pays six hundred quid for a ticket and takes their clothes in a sports kitbag, so it wasn't hard to recognise anyway!), devouring Aniket's pasta salad despite an (awful) breakfast on the plane and playing baggage weight monopoly with Sandra's textbooks, we sat in the middle of a row of four seats to wait for the plane. Sandra got a homophobic Korean priest and I got a friendly (and alarmingly tactile) bloke off for a funeral who warned me not to trust anyone, unless they're white of course. Hoping he was an exception to the rule here.
Was very excitable on the second plane about mountains and wine and landing, which involves crossing over Cape Town and turning round over the sea to come back in over beaches to land, although also taking us over vast expanses of corrugated iron rooves. Dehydrated and randless for the budget airline water (foolishly presumed the 100 ml fluid rule applied here - it doesn't) we made it out of the airport, were picked up by the man from the hostel who was surprised there were two of us and who crammed five people and masses of luggage into a VW Golf which didn't like it.
I have a bone to pick. On the first plane, as mentioned we were in the middle of the row, again people either side of us. I got a snoring antisocial Guardianista-type who impeded my loo breaks (did I mention the free gin?!) whereas Sandra got a German woman and chatted to her for the whole flight, in foreign. Just like at dinner the previous night. So when we arrived at Cape Town, who were we sharing our lift with but two Germans. So I talked to the driver, for about a minute before we were stopped by the police. They seemed concerned either that he was an unlicensed taxi man or that they hadn't been bribed lately, it's unclear. Apparently part of the problem was the tinted windows, which driver Peter explained were so people can't see how many are in the car with you, deterring carjackers. Naturally.
Anyway now we are off to not get mugged, robbed, raped, beaten or stabbed in what we are told is the "posh area" which also contains the only nearby supermarket. Hmm. Oh yes WOOLWORTHS LIVES! In a South African incarnation anyway. There was one in the airport and one here allegedly. First however... a nap.
Stood up most of the way to Heathrow.
11 hours in the middle of a row of ten on a 747 to Joburg.
3 hours wandering OR Tambo airport talking to people, of which more later...
2 hours in a 737, which I am now identifying as "the ryanair plane"
Lift to the hostel
Lie down.
I've been on Ryanair more times in the last year than is reasonable for anybody and so hadn't realised flights could be quite nice. In between sending BA cabin crew to fetch me G&Ts (if they want to strike they should earn it first) I watched Salt which was terrible and half of the Godfather which was worse, but it beats sitting next to a perspiring obesity statistic with your water bottle stolen by security men and a cackling Irish airline magnate demanding three quid for a new one.
Oh also I discovered that talking to said airport security men results in your bag being checked for explosives.
Anyway after getting through reclaim (thank you Granny for the strap but nobody else pays six hundred quid for a ticket and takes their clothes in a sports kitbag, so it wasn't hard to recognise anyway!), devouring Aniket's pasta salad despite an (awful) breakfast on the plane and playing baggage weight monopoly with Sandra's textbooks, we sat in the middle of a row of four seats to wait for the plane. Sandra got a homophobic Korean priest and I got a friendly (and alarmingly tactile) bloke off for a funeral who warned me not to trust anyone, unless they're white of course. Hoping he was an exception to the rule here.
Was very excitable on the second plane about mountains and wine and landing, which involves crossing over Cape Town and turning round over the sea to come back in over beaches to land, although also taking us over vast expanses of corrugated iron rooves. Dehydrated and randless for the budget airline water (foolishly presumed the 100 ml fluid rule applied here - it doesn't) we made it out of the airport, were picked up by the man from the hostel who was surprised there were two of us and who crammed five people and masses of luggage into a VW Golf which didn't like it.
I have a bone to pick. On the first plane, as mentioned we were in the middle of the row, again people either side of us. I got a snoring antisocial Guardianista-type who impeded my loo breaks (did I mention the free gin?!) whereas Sandra got a German woman and chatted to her for the whole flight, in foreign. Just like at dinner the previous night. So when we arrived at Cape Town, who were we sharing our lift with but two Germans. So I talked to the driver, for about a minute before we were stopped by the police. They seemed concerned either that he was an unlicensed taxi man or that they hadn't been bribed lately, it's unclear. Apparently part of the problem was the tinted windows, which driver Peter explained were so people can't see how many are in the car with you, deterring carjackers. Naturally.
Anyway now we are off to not get mugged, robbed, raped, beaten or stabbed in what we are told is the "posh area" which also contains the only nearby supermarket. Hmm. Oh yes WOOLWORTHS LIVES! In a South African incarnation anyway. There was one in the airport and one here allegedly. First however... a nap.
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