My first week back in Cape Town.

I arrive in Cape Town in the afternoon by way of Johannesburg after an early depart from Harare. Having passed through customs and immigration in Joburg, my arrival in Cape Town is relatively quick and easy. I am seated in the first row and am the fourth person off the flight, having let the people seated across the aisle depart first. The couple next to me, on discovering their seats, were overjoyed.

I take a Bolt to my apartment. The drivers asks if I live in Cape Town. No. He asks if it’s my first time here. No, I was here last in March. He surmises that I know about Cape Town, then but I ask him to give me the spiel. He tells me where I should be careful and tells me that the Cape Flats area we’re driving through is particularly known for crime, not that I’d be spending any time there. He tells me this as we pass a sign warning people for stopping on the highway.

I am staying at the Mutual Heights building, an Art Deco edifice completed in 1940 as the headquarters of the South African Mutual Life Assurance Society. It boasts an imposing foyer, the atrium spanning multiple floors. Finding my apartment was a bit of a challenge as there's a warren of passages I had to navigate, each route given a color to help you find your way. The instructions I had been given assumed I had entered on elevator, but I entered one on the opposite side of the building and fumbled my way around and up various stairwells before I found my way.

That evening, the city welcomed me with a gorgeous sunset and I watched from my windows as the light shifted across Devil’s Peak, the clock atop the town hall telling me the time.

I had been to Cape Town in March and returning feels a little like a homecoming. It’s great coming back to a place you’ve come to know. The pressure of constantly discovering is off, and you can slow down and enjoy your surroundings. I’ve chosen to stay in the Central Business District for its proximity to restaurants, but I’m cautioned not to walk around too much at night. There are 300 public safety officers who are on duty 24/7 to prevent petty crimes, but they can’t be everywhere. And like most financial or business districts, the CBD can empty out a bit late into the night.

I decide one day to take high tea at Mount Nelson, a hotel that sits at the end of the pedestrian walk running alongside the Company Gardens. The high tea at Mount Nelson is considered the “Grande Dame” of high teas in the city, the hotel was opened in 1899. The land was purchased by shipping magnate Sir Donald Currie in 1890 with the intent to build a hotel as stylish as those in London to cater exclusively to the Castle Line cruise ship’s First Class passengers.

Later in 1899 the South African war began and the British used the hotel as a military headquarters. Winston Churchill, then a young war correspondent, described it as “a most excellent and well appointed establishment which may be thoroughly appreciated after a sea voyage.”

The hotel acquired its pink coloring after World War I, when Italian Aldo Renato, the second manager of the hotel, celebrated the end of the war by painting the hotel. Pink hotels became popular throughout Europe at that time and so the pink color stayed. There is now a Mount Nelson Pink that has been formulated to fade to the exact color between coats.

I walk to the hotel from my apartment, through the CBD and up the tree-lined Government Avenue, admiring the gardens from afar. I have neglected my camera and end up taking photos another day, as I retrace my steps in order to reach another restaurant on Kloof Street. Then, I walk through the gardens themselves to take in the landscaping and manicured grounds on my up to the hill.

A white pillared gate announces the entrance to the hotel and I walk to the pedestrian entrance beside it, waving at the guard to let me enter. I tell him I’m there for tea and he lets me through.

Beyond, a palm-lined drive leads me up to the hotel. I follow the path up and then take a right to enter the courtyard at the back of the hotel, approaching the restaurant from the rear patio.

I am sat inside and the tea menu placed before me. There’s a wide abundance of teas and I am introduced to the tea sommalier to help me find my way. He’s been working for over fifteen years at Mount Nelson and he guides me to a delicious green tea that I take with my sandwiches and scones. We move to a Japanese tea for the sweets, and by the time I’m onto the cakes I am so full I can barely finish my last pot.

It’s not the only tea I take. Having been bitten by the bug when I was in London I book another high tea at the One and Only by the waterfront.

I walk to the hotel, along a boring stretch of road. There’s construction going on that keeps me from taking the shortcut into the back of the hotel, but I’m glad to have entered from the front. The .view of Table Mountain and Devil’s Peak from the entrance is amazing.

I’m lead to a table right by the floor to ceiling windows. I’m a little early for tea, but it’s not a problem. I tell them I’m happy waiting. In the meantime they serve me an iced tea and I settle in for the afternoon, pulling my book out of my bag in the hopes of finishing it by the time it’s time to leave.

While the tea options at the One and Only are a little more limited, I enjoy the sandwiches and the pastries more. I go back for seconds and thirds of some of the sandwiches and select two of the cakes from the cake trolley at the end of the service. I spent over three hours sitting, eating and drinking my way through tea and reading my book.

Afterwards Thembi comes by to ask how I enjoyed my tea service. Immensely. She asks me what I’m reading and I show her: Nervous Conditions by Tsitsi Dangarembga. I tell her I’ve just finished it and am happy to give it to her if she’s interested. She tells me her sister is into political studies and might be. She pauses for a moment and then asks me to write in the back that I’ve given the book to her, I suspect to make sure that it’s clear how she obtained the book.

On Heritage Day I join a walking tour of Bo-Kaap, the predominantly Muslim neighborhood just above the CBD. The name means ‘Upper Cape,” which becomes clear after you climb up out of the center to reach it.

I was on my way to the post office to mail a stack of postcards when I realized that it may be closed for the holiday. I happen to pass the meeting point for the walking tour, which is to commence in a few minutes. Once again I’ve left my camera at home, but retrace the route the next day with camera in hand.

The tour starts on Wale Street near the Iziko Slave Lodge, now a museum. Cedric, our guide, tells us that when the slaves were freed in 1834 a number of them moved to the other end of Wale Street to establish the neighborhood we’re to visit. So, he tells us, by walking up this street we’re walking in the steps of history.

We cross Buitengracht Street to enter the neighborhood. The street was once a canal that siphoned water from the mountain to the sea, but was paved by the British. The neighborhood is 60% Muslim and there are about ten mosques within the blocks that define it. We’re greeted by one established in 1834 as soon as we arrive, but Cedric wants to show us the oldest one in the neighborhood and the oldest in South Africa.

We walk up a small street that runs parallel to Buitengracht and turn into the neighborhood. He motions us to stand in the shade opposite the Auwal Masjid, established in 1794. He tells us that the first Imam was a prince from Tidore in the Ternate Islands (Indonesia). He had been imprisoned in Robben Island for 13 years as a state prisoner for conspiring politically with the English in the East against the Dutch.

While imprisoned he wrote several copies of the Qur’an from memory. Cedric tells us that when compared to printed versions he was 99% accurate.

After being released he decided to remain in South Africa, helping to establish the mosque. He points out the five palm trees planted before the mosque and tells us they represent the five pillars of Islam: Shahada (profession of faith), Salah (prayer), Zakat (almsgiving), Sawm (fasting during Ramadan), and Hajj (pilgrimage to Mecca).

We continue up Dorp Street admiring the brightly-painted houses. A number of the homes express messages of support for Palestine, one painted as the Palestinian flag.

Children play soccer on a side street and I notice a sign that advertises Cape Malay cooking classes. Cedric brings us to a spot that’s closed for the holiday and tells us that it’s a small restaurant run by a women who serves Cape Malay food and also offers cooking classes. He tells us that it’s a great place for breakfast or for a snack if we decide to come back on our own another day.

He leads us up further to the steps of a community center for the views of Table Mountain and Devil’s Peak. There’s music coming from the Cultural Hub, which we can see from where we stand. He tells us that there’s a long tradition of choir music in South Africa and is rightfully proud of the awards South African choirs have won around the world.

He points out a structure being built in a small park below. He tells us that it’s a place for locals to sell wares in an effort to promote tourism and offer a source of income to the locals, with an eye towards preserving the neighborhood. He tells us that it’ll be opening to the public October 1st; he’s planning on attending the official opening ceremony at the end of September.

Walking down Yusuf Drive towards Wale Street we stop in front a newly-commissioned mural. Titled “The Origin,” it’s a collaboration between artists Wisaal Abrahams (Manvrou) and Nadia Fisher (Nardstar) celebrating the diversity that is at the heart of South Africa and the Afrikaans Language, which originated in Bo-Kaap. Cedric points out that it’s the youngest official language in the world (at 100) and is the only language with the word Africa in it.

We continue down the street to the Bo-Kaap museum, which is free for the day. The Atlas Spice shop is closed, and Cedric encourages us to return to check it out; it’s the best spice shop in the city. He ends the tour asking if any of us need help in finding where we’re to go next. I thank him and head into the museum to check out the exhibits.

The next day I spend more time exploring the side streets around Wale. A man sells small paintings and fridge magnets he’s made of the area. There’s a small canvas that shows Lion’s head peeking out from the horizon and I’m tempted, but have no place to keep it. I thank him and tell him no. A pair of tourists walk in our direction and he turns his attention to them.

On Saturday I visit the Zeitz Museum of Contemporary African Art. I had wanted to when I was here in March, but there ultimately wasn’t the time. Knowing I’d be back, I made it a point to visit, but it didn’t quite fit in with the plans I had until later in the week.

I walk from my apartment to the Victoria & Albert Waterfront, first eating lunch at the Time Out Market and then walking through the mall before making my way to the museum. For lunch I go back to Barakat for its Cape Malay food. I remembered it from the last time I was in the city, and having eaten at The Happy Uncles, their upscale restaurant, I’m eager to simplify and dig into their version of butter chicken.

Housed in an old grain silo, the Zeitz Museum of Contemporary African Art is the largest museum of contemporary art from Africa and its diaspora. Designed by Thomas Heatherwick of Heatherwick Studio, the space is carved out from the 42 densely-packed concrete cylinders from which the silo was originally comprised. From certain vantage points, it looks like the mask from Scream.

At the front desk an attendant asks me where I’m from. I tell her I’m from New York, the States, and she tells me that she won’t make me pay the extra for being from there. She asks if I’ve heard about the white South Africans who had gone seeking refugee status. I had, but had forgotten amidst all the other outrageous policies being implemented in the States. We commiserate for a moment over the sad state of the world before passing me my ticket, suggesting I take the elevator to the top floor and work my way down.

At the top I step out into a courtyard on the roof, the silos covered with glass panels. I can’t bring myself to walk across them, and keep to the concrete sections that at least feel more solid.

The galleries themselves are built around the central atrium, and I make my way around the top floor before making my way down. The first galleries house a solo exhibition by Ghanaian-American artist Rita Mawuena Benissan, One Must Be Seated, focused on reimagining the royal umbrella and stool, symbols of Akan chieftaincy. The exhibition “explores the enstoolment of a prospective chief, akin to coronation; a call to take their rightful seat in the stool that has been chosen for them.”

I love the large umbrellas and the way in which they’re exhibited, spotlights bringing them to life in darkened rooms.

To reach one side of the building from the other you walk through a corridor that’s open to the atrium, letting you admire the building itself. It’s a great way to experience the building, and these breaks between the galleries seem to serve to reset the eye and rebroaden one’s prespective.

The rest of the museum and exhibitions continue to introduce me to new artists and their work. It’s almost too much and I wish I had the time to focus on just one gallery rather than try to tour the entire museum. In the end, I process what I can and make a note to return the next time I’m in Cape Town to see what’s new and hope to be able to revisit some of the artists I’ve become acquainted with today.

Below, a few of the pieces that caught my eye: Jody Paulsen’s Highbrow Gameplan, Lungiswa Gqunta’s Divider, and Thebe Maggug’s Faux ostrich coat.

I head to the basement to find that the old chutes have been retained, along with some of the original signage. I love it when industrial spaces are reconstituted into museums and galleries, especially when the historic use has been retained in some form or fashion. It’s a reminder of another time, and it’s amazing to think of how much the waterfront and Cape Town have changed over the years. It makes me wonder what’s in store for the future, not only here and in South Africa, but for Africa on the whole. 🇿🇦