We wake up a little later this morning. We need it.  It’s a 5 hour time difference from home which isn’t terrible- goodness knows we’ve done worse- nothing quite compares to the “WHEN THE HELL AM I” feeling of China or India.  But, this IS enough to get the better of you if you let it.  So the strict rules are: stay up as late as possible (which is about 10:30pm) and get up at your regular time- with a little “I’m on vacation” thrown in (6am).  Which never happens.  But is always the plan. 

We stayed up a little extra late last night with sink shenanigans- so we sleep in a little – 10am is our meet up time! Gasp!!!  

I try to have coffee, but It seems the two Muppet babies took my coffee mugs home with them last night full of rum when they left.  So I have no mugs for said coffee.  I’m stuck with a small tea pot that I’m drinking out of, straight from the spout. Whatever works I guess.  I message Nicole and ask her to send over her minion with my mug.  Which she does, and after a flippant comment from me last night about how his waist measures smaller then Chris’s because he wears his pants under his gut like all old men…he decides to teach me a lesson and show up carrying my mug….with his pants pulled so far up his waist I’m sure he’s going to need assistance getting them off without rupturing something. And I’m going to need to figure out how to wash my eyes. I guess I deserved that.

Eventually we make it to breakfast and then take the magical Uber to the waterfront again.

I should mention that you have to be careful here- the crime rate is high- and I’ve felt safe…but I certainly keep my hand on my purse.  And I tend to keep a lot of crap in my bra.  Like legit. Phone, money..in fact the other day Gary watched in utter awe as I pulled out money, phone, pill case, a random cork I wanted to keep, nail glue and a few bobby pins. All out my bra.  I’m like a trampy swiss army knife.  Gary says that if I get robbed I’m definitely getting unintentionally sexually assaulted too.  I can picture the criminal- “ma’am..i don’t have all day.  Can you just give me your purse and money and call it?”

Today we have decided to go to the Two Oceans Aquarium- which I was excited about….but had no idea I would enjoy as much as I did.

Its about $35 per person and worth (and would be in Canada) twice that at least. I guess I’ve never been to an aquarium?!? I thought I had, but maybe I just saw them in movies? But I had no idea the special kind of magic that exists at an Aquarium!!!  We pay our fee and in we go- immediately met with colorful tanks filled with nemo’s and coral, floaty seaweed-y stuff and pink thingys!! I am CAPTIVATED!!!!  One tank after another- more adults here then children- I GET IT.  I understand why my art teacher said to go to an aquarium to paint- its so peaceful….and quiet even when it isn’t…you just seem to be somewhere else…. ignoring the noises- a pseudo snorkeling vibe- hearing your own breathing over all else.  We pick around- Gary climbing into a tank “tube” to get a better look at the little clown fish- elbowing a child out of the way; Chris crawling into a large life sized empty turtle shell display (which fits him WAY too well- and explains why he loves pizza so much…).  We meander around. Taking our time. The jellyfish display is a particular favorite of mine.  I swear I could sit and watch them for hours. The way they pulse in and out, to the beat of some distant drum only they can hear, the heartbeat of the ocean forcing them in and out of themselves- tiny tendrils flowing behind them. In my head no one else is in the room- and I’m transfixed.  I film a few…but spend most of my time just staring at them.  They are like a permanent “really good stare” and I find it hard to pull away. 

Next up is a spot where they keep the eels.  Moray and electric and discusting.  “Nope’s in the wild” as I decide they should be called. They are SO bloody terrifying, definitely the bad guys of the ocean, all lurk-y and the like.  I’m not a fan.

Eventually I catch up to Nicole who ran through the Eel exhibit like she was being chased with a chainsaw, and I’m struggling to follow her distinct waddle as she makes her way quickly towards speaker system voices.  It’s feeding time at the Penguin exhibit!! All the little African Penguins- the only ones native to the continent- are getting fed.  I feel like a child.  I’m giggling and snapping pics and pointing. They are each getting a fish- some opting to bring it to the water to drop it in and jump in after it…a little game to make their lunch more earned. Others just swallow them whole when given, still others taking them to a rock or another buddy to give away.  They are just the cutest thing I’ve even seen!! So we sit there for a while- longer than any of the children walking through- and laugh and smile at them. I take a bunch of pictures for future art projects- and I could honestly have spent a lot more time.  But the boys come to us all out of breath…..the next leg of the aquarium is the shark exhibit……and since we intend to cage dive with them tomorrow we need to come quick to get scared to death in advance, apparently.

So we move along to the shark tank.  Its filled with large fish and rocks. And four of the most ginormous sharks I’ve ever seen. They aren’t great white’s, they are bull sharks- but they could fool me- I’d put them at 4-5 meters long.  We stand at a small window at the top of the tank and watch as they swim by, skimming the sides with their fins, having no choice but to show their teeth since their sharky lips are drawn back in a permanent grimace.  Teeth that that look like delicate white needles all haphazardly positioned to do the most damage.  They sneak up on us a few times, coming into view quickly- looking straight and cold, like they know they are curdling blood with their presence…and they love it. And that’s when I realize that I’m in far more danger then anyone else going shark diving tomorrow. Because……. Nicole. 

One of the sharks come into view unexpectedly and Nicole THROWS me at the window and runs screaming. Like THUNK throws me- I hit the glass, lip leaving a trail of spit down the window with a long “EEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKK’ like chalk on board as I slowly slide to the ground. One more time sacrificing her BABY SISTER to get away from danger….reminding me of the snake incident in India. “Here, take this” implied -if not said. My mouth gaping open in stunned disbelief as I pool on the floor watching the evil Muppet run away- arms flailing. What could go wrong tomorrow?

We watch this for a few more minutes…me in the corner trying not to get used as a human shield again. And when we walk on we all have second thoughts about tomorrows adventure.  I can see it on all of our faces…..But those second thoughts are quickly ignored as we see the gift shop and decide we need one of everything they have in stock.

After stowing our bags in our napsacks we leave the aquarium to start our walk to the other side of the harbor- we have a tour booked last minute to see Robben Island, the former prison island off of the western cape where Mandela was held for 18 of his 26 years in prison.  But first, wine will be the buffer for the heaviness of the next leg of the African journey. So we walk out of the Aquarium with a mission to find a sneaky spot to open a bottle. On our way to a bench off in the distance we are met with a group of seals…all gathered on the floating platform near the side of the walkway.  They are all fighting and squealing. Like REALLY making a ruckus!! Biting and scratching- barking like dogs and swinging their necks into each other.  I try to tell them that the first rule of fight club is we don’t whine about fight club- but they are far too involved to notice us.  So we  watch for a few minutes….and realize that perhaps they are mating…..and we back away slowly—feeling a little dirty…like we just accidentally stumbled upon the seal version of Pam and Tommy’s sex tape…awkward……

We walk on and find a spot- it comes with its own otter floating and bathing in the sun- we feed him some chips and drink our wine and watch him play- he is clearly trying to avoid the seal orgy just up the dock, so he is content to spend some time with us.   Then we get lost and end up walking through “One and Only Cape Town”….an ultra bougee hotel that comes with a NOBU restaurant all of its own….approximately $1300 a night….we are quickly turned around….by security…that finds it hard to believe that 4 of its guests would be stumbling down the path carrying back packs, wearing sketchers, singing baby shark and giggling (it might have been two bottles of wine).

After a few more wrong turns we end up at The Nelson Mandela Gateway to Robben Island to catch our ferry.   When we arrive, we have tickets on my phone, but shockingly didn’t read the fine print (that’s not the muppet way) and only realize as we approach the gateway that we will need ID to board the boat.  I quickly search PASSPORT in my pics and find screen shots of our expired passports from our trip to India- Nicole finds covid vaccine records for Gary, and just happens to have her license with her in her wallet.  I’m not sure HOW it works…but it does- so on the boat we go. Up to the top deck as we always do to sit in the sun for the ride.

As we pull away from Cape Town I think everyone on the boat is struck with how he must have felt in 1964 when he was taken from this very spot to his new forced residence on the bleak island. He would ultimately spend 1964-1982 there- and arriving on the island after a 25 minute ferry it really sinks in.  I’ve always had an admiration for Mandela.  I came into the world long after his struggles begun- but I always remember as a kid being fascinated hearing him speak. He spoke with such intention. His words chosen so carefully- saying in 10 words what would take others 10 times that.  I remember being taught his “each one teach one” philosophy in school.  He was slow and deliberate in his speeches- and I thought that he must be a man of great intelligence and patience….I didn’t realize that his intelligence was so fiercely debated by his own country men because of his color, and his patience painfully earned in a 2×2 meter prison cell. I remember seeing Winnie on my TV in the 80’s as a kid, and wondering if it was possible to love someone so much you would wait for them for 27 years- finding out only years later that it was possible to love someone so much that you would never stop waiting.

I won’t go into too much detail here- mostly because I’m ashamed to say that everything I thought I knew about his time there was wrong-from the duration to the conditions.   But I’ll share the things that left me speechess.

The amazing thing about this tour is that it is given by a former political prisoner (a term that was coined by Mandela and his co-prisoners back in the 60s).  Ours is a 65 year old black man that was here from 1977-1982- arrested leaving a peaceful political meeting.  He knew Mandela. And as he shows us around the island and its former cells I am filled with tears.  Tears that feel fraudulent….like I don’t have the right to feel such emotion for something I’m so far removed from, but overwhelmed none the less. I’m keeping it together until we are shown Isisivane.  The pile of stones at the entrance of the quarry he and so many other political prisoners were forced to work in until their eye sight failed from the light of the sun bounching off the lime stone, and their bodies crippled.  It’s a pile that was created in 1995 when Mandela visited the island after it had been closed down as a prison.  Unscripted, He picked up a stone after his speech and laid it at the entrance as a visible representation of their struggles there….followed by all the other former prisoners present. Without prior discussion they each and every one got up and laid a stone on the pile.  And it still sits there quietly today – the loudest silent remembrance I’ve ever seen. It is felt more then seen. When our guide tells us that a stone is removed from the pile each time a former prisoner dies, I’m a mess with tears stinging my face. Trying not to catch his eye.  What an insult it would be to him for him to feel he needed to comfort ME.  

We walk the island. We see his cell.  We see the cells of others. Hear the unfathomable stories of  discrimination against the people who brought us into the world.  Its sickening and heartbreaking- and humbling.  I can see the shadows of the men who spent time here all over the island, can see their table mountain so clearly in the distance. The home they left so easily seen must have been unbearable. Oh how they must have longed for their families.  Families they were only allowed to see once every 6 months while there.  They had to speak one of two languages on their visits with each other at those sparse visits….and if they didn’t speak either of those languages they had to just sit and stare at one another- no touching, no attempting to communicate in any other language or way. And no one under 18 was allowed to visit. Just unthinkable.

As we leave our guide, I give him a hug. And say nothing. Probably (definably) more for me than him. An “I’m sorry” for sins I didn’t commit- but can’t help but feel shame in.

Its been a heavy few hours, and getting back on board we are pretty quiet.  Its helpful when we are on these vacations to get some perspective.  To remember that not everyone has this life. Not everyone is afforded the freedom we have.  I know I’ll appreciate the rest of my journey even more now…thank you Robben Island, and prisoner 35277.  Your story is in my head and heart forever. 

The ride back is rough seas, but feels hard to complain about – so we don’t….much.  Back on shore we grab an Uber home- upstairs to the roof top to sort out our feelings about our day. we are lucky enough to score the comfy sofa’s in the corner 🙂 so we sit and take advantage of happy hour, watching the sun go down and make the mountains around us pink. We head to the restaurant and have our dinner, why go elsewhere when the food here is so good? -another great one- steaks and appies… and then up to the CTMB (Cape Town Muppet Bar) for one last night cap before bed.

Tomorrow, we are up at 3am, for a 4am departure. To Gansbaai. To swim with the Great Whites………EEK.

Until then Muppeteers