La daabacay: 25.08.2018
Yesterday Cape Town greeted me with bright sunshine and perfect winter weather. You just have to get out and explore the mother city of South Africa. What better way to do that than the typical red hop-on-hop-off bus? It's only a good 20-minute walk from my hostel to the V&A Waterfront, where the bus starts. After sitting for a while and enjoying the glorious weather, some movement feels good. Since we were here yesterday, I can orient myself well and already know my way around. Can't deny my dad's genes ;-). Clocktower and Cape Town International Convention Centre are not really interesting, so I listen to the audio guide's information and enjoy the view. My destination is the Bo-Kaap district, which is advertised in every travel guide with its colorful houses. I'm looking forward to going with the flow, cute cafes, colorful markets, and beautiful photos. On the bus, I meet the nice couple from my hostel from the previous evening. They invite me to walk with them. I gladly agree. But as soon as I get off the bus, they rush off as if they were trying to set a world record. I understand that they want to get the most out of 2 days in Cape Town, but for me, it's as far from enjoyment as Madonna is from the Virgin. I'd rather disconnect and leisurely stroll along some pretty streets, browse souvenir markets, and go with the flow. I don't care about the walk, long live the moment. I end up in Parade Corner, a scruffy corner with lots of cheap food stalls for locals. On closer inspection, I am actually the only tourist here. I don't feel completely comfortable. On the other hand, it's in the middle of the day, 1 pm, and school children are streaming through the narrow streets, laughing and chatting, buying themselves lunch. There are peculiarities like Gatsbys and other things I've never seen before. I buy a cold Coke and sit on a bench to watch the hustle and bustle. I promptly strike up a conversation with a local and we discuss the advantages and disadvantages of school uniforms. Fantastic! That's what I love about traveling!
But my high spirits quickly fade when I want to take a quick selfie. A downtrodden beggar, whom I didn't notice before, hits my phone out of my hand with full force. Shouting at me that he doesn't want me to take photos of him. Completely bewildered and shocked, I watch as the phone sails through the air and hits the bench. With trembling fingers, I pick it up. Lucky me - the phone is unharmed. Lucky me - I'm unharmed too! Obviously, this is a scam. I quickly put the phone away and the big Mama behind the counter nods at me warningly. I make my way out of there, in search of the colorful houses. They are already flashing at me from a distance, but upon closer inspection, they turn out to be a disappointment. Just two small streets and nothing more. And tourists in white cars, getting out, taking photos, and getting back in. And with the tourists come poverty and crime. Like moths to a flame, tourists attract begging children, men, women, and criminals. They wait on street corners and start slowly approaching when you walk along the streets.
Very unpleasant and persistent. Personally, I find it worse than in India, but that may be because I'm alone here and not internally prepared for it. When other tourists come with their big cameras, I find enough courage to take mine out as well. The colors are just amazing, as if someone turned up the saturation to the maximum! The photographer's heart laughs.