Africa - August 27, 2012

Proved once again that I am the Magnet for Civil Unrest.* Spent the whole day traveling, flying from Zim to Jo'burg, then Jo'burg to Cape Town, only to discover on arrival that a political strike had shut down the airport. Our airport shuttle driver suggested we find a comfy spot at a restaurant for another hour until police finished clearing the burning tires from the road to Cape Town. Sigh.

Lion's Head, as seen from The Backpack hostel.

Eventually made it to The Backpack without any trouble. If you're ever in Cape Town, go immediately to The Backpack. The hostel staff worked late until we made it through the strike and could register; they're a member of Fair Trade in Tourism; and they collect donations for all sorts of phenomenal community projects.** And they make a mean bowl of soup on a cold, windy night. These are my people.

We three jumped with joy at the sight of our rooms, complete with plush pillows and blankets, hot water bottles***, clean bathrooms, and personal tea kettles. It takes so little to make you feel at home, but most folks don't make the effort. We will definitely stay here again when we return to Cape Town later this week. After eight days of primitive camping, I think I've died and gone to heaven.

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Brad's footnotes:
* Jenn's referring mostly to our Peru trip here, which also had us arriving at an airport to find striking transportation workers and no way out. But I'm also fairly certain she can now be blamed, karmic-ally, for the bomb threat we witnessed at the Charles de Gaulle.
** We soon discovered that co-owner, Toni, was a fellow foodie, which proved rich to us later, you'll see.
*** These became the most valuable to me, after I started fevering (Not malaria. OK, maybe not malaria...) and the weather turned very cold.