17. - 23 Dec.: Wine tasting in Stellenbosch and Paarl

It was a Belgian friend of mine who strongly recommended I visit Beyerkloof when in Stellenbosch for a tasting of their great pinotage. This is a typically South African cross between Pinot Noir and Hermitage, and Ivo told me Beyerkloof was famous for it. Ivo is Flemish, Bruxellois, Belgian, European and, when it comes to wine, a real citizen of the world. I guess you have to be if you are Belgian and love good wines. There are maybe a dozen or os good vineyward in Belgium but not enough to satisfy a lifetime of oenological tastings. After learning the three official languages of his home country, as well as English, which is a sine qua non in the financial world where he works, he decided to pick up Italian, just for fun. He lives in Brussels and so we meet often to discuss the oenological merits of fermented grape juices from around the planet. He is one of the relatively few Flemish who still lives in Brussels, the capital of Belgium and of Europe that has progressively become almost completely francophone.

After the disappointment of two days ago, when Yan and I were bounced at the door because it was end of business, this time I make sure I get there during regular business hours, and after parking in the scorching sun I walk through the gate to the tasting room. It is a dark room, made even darker by a slick black counter on top of which an endless succession of glasses is filled with wines.  It is a bit noisy, which does disturb me as I try to concentrate on the aromas of the first whites that are served to me, but after all this is where wine lovers from all over the world come to have fun, and we should not take ourselves too seriously.

Prices are really attractive, but unfortunately local prices have little to do with what I would pay for the same bottles in Europe. It's not so much trasportation costs that weigh in here, as freight charges by sea are quite reasonable, it is tax. Excise tax and Value Added Tax to be precise. So an excellent quality/price ratio in South Africa (say 8 to 10 euro for an upmaket vintage red) becomes a think-about-it 25-30 euro per bottle when delivered to Europe. Nevertheless I request more information about having a few bottles sent to my address in Europe.

And by the way while I did like their Pinotage I thought their cabs were better: powerful yet velvet soft on the palate. Perhaps not the best to age for decades but easily enjoyable a few years after harvest. "Cabs" is South African short hand for "Cabernet Sauvignon", perhaps the most successful varietal in the world, originally from France but now universally used either alone or in the classical combination with Cabernet Franc and Merlot. The name? It was, they say, by chance that sometime in the XVII century some southern French vintner accidentally crossed Cabernet Franc and Sauvignon Blanc and realize the outcome was going to be a hit.

A most kind lady shows me a chart with final consumer prices for all European destinations, each taking into account trasnportation and tax. I can see that Switzerland is the best country to live in if you are going to import wine from South Africa to Europe. Belgium is not on the chart at all, and the lady can't really tell me why. I am very curious now and she goes and calls the manager, a blond very Dutch looking thirty-something that is more than happy to explain.

I am startled to learn that they do export directly to all of Europe except Belgium, because the local importer objects. I can't believe that of all European countries only the distributor to Belgium holds such blocking power but that's exactly it.

Well so much for sending Beyerkloof wines to Belgium. I shall have to buy it from the importer. Or maybe not, I don't like the fact that residents from all other European countries can order their wine from the producer except Belgians. As I think through my options for retaliatory action I continue to sip away and notice that most staff and patrons are white but there are a few blacks and colored in bith sides of the counter. I ask the lady who is serving me and she says rhe schools for sommelier and university agronomy are now completely mixed.

Ryno tells the Fairview story

My next stop is the Fairview estate, in the nearby Paarls region, just a few km away, where I enjoy wonderful tasting of wines as well as excellent olive oil.  Ryno is the somelier guiding me through the range. He explains that the olive oil is done in the Italian tradition and that is why it gets Italian names. I get my very own table in a spacious and airy room with high ceilings and mirrors. One by one Ryno proposes half a dozen wines which I have selected from the house's production.

Here they can and do export direct to Belgium though at a price, because of the notorious VAT and excise tax, of course. Final price is about double what I'd pay here but prices are so convenient that I can't resist ordering a couple of cases. And why should I resist anyway: part of the pleasure when I drink this wine in Europe will be recalling this wonderful time at the vineyard.

I then move on just a few hundred meters to another property by the same owner. It's called the Spice Route and here it's chocolate and wine matches that are on offer. It's a serene hillside with a farmhouse sitting on top. You can park and walk up a few steps to a huge terrace where the friendly staff will bring you the chocs and the wines.

The odd couple: wine and chocolate

It's almost closing time and the sun is gently dropping lower over the horizon but there is still plenty of time. I always found it difficult to match any wine with chocolate. In Europe my favorite combination is dark chocolate with Banyuls. A couple of times I tried a young Barolo, a combination I learned from Pierre Marcolini in Brussels at one of his tastings. Here I find that it is Syrah that is the best match for the intense flavor of Fairview's chocolates.

It's the end of the day, I am sorry it's over but it's been a satisfying experience. I have hardly eaten all day but the wines and the bits and pieces of bread have filled me for the day and I look forward to a quite evening in my Clermont attic with warm decaffeinated coffee and a good book.

16. - 22 Dec.: Franschhoek

I decide to take an easy day of rest at the B and B. Good breakfast in the yard next to my room. Again Italian music is playing softly in the background, though this time it's more opera and less 1950s.

Around noon I take a long walk with a coffee flavored toscanello cigar around the vineyards. It is sunny and 26 °C. An ideal day for meditation, rest, reading, backing up hard drives full of pictures and uploading some stuff online to share news with friends and family. Unfortunately there is no wifi in my room (I've become accustomed to take it for granted, just as hot water) but my MTN data plan works like a charm and I am connected to the world.

A plaque outside my room informs that Auberge Clermont was inaugurated in 1997, 140 years after founding of the current farm in 1857. But the roots of the Auberge go back at least another century and a half before that.

It was in 1694 that Abraham de Villiers received title to the land from the Dutch authorities and founded the farm he called "Champagne". Like many other properties in the region it has a French name, so chosen by nostalgic Huguenots to remind themselves of faraway France, their homeland they were never to see again. The farm morphed repeatedly over the following decades until it reached the current mix of vineyard and upmarket B and B.

15. - 21 Dec.: Cape Town to Franschhoek

In the morning we visit Cape Town's famous Aquarium. It's a kids' attraction, with colorful boards and touch pools, but it is most interesting for adults as well. We are most kindly invited for a guided tour by Kevin Spiby, whom I don't really know but whose father Geoff I met a few years ago while diving in the Maldives. Kevin has an innate passion for nature in general and the ocean in particular, has worked here for a few years and thinks this is the best job in the world. Geoff and I were on the same liveaboard then and shared a passion for underwater photography. We then kept in touch via Facebook, and when I messaged him that I was on my way to the Cape he put me in touch with his son. Magic of modern technology.

As we walk in the Aquarium Yan and I are painted with magic ink mark on our wrist so we can go in and out all day. Unfortunately that won't be possible as Yan has to catch a flight home to China in the afternoon.

Of the many tanks and pools we saw, ranging from the cute to the impressive to the most bizarre, the huge tank with turtles and sharks is what I enjoyed the most. There is an elaborate weekly feeding schedule for the fish and turtles here and we happend to be there when Kevin is scheduled to drop bit and pieces of fish to feed the pelagic animals who circle around the thick glass (really thick, as is 25 centimeters!) in anticipation.

There are a few microphone problems so that the master of ceremonies down with the public can't talk to Kevin who is ready on top but in the end it is all sorted out and we can witness some voracious fish dart around to grab their food. Kids seem to enjoy the touch pools, where they can stroke rays, more than anything else.

Final walk through the waterfront. Yan buys me another pair of shorts with countless pockets, the kind of Indiana Jones style clothes I have grown to love most. South Africa is a paradise for outdoor gear and clothing: good quality stuff and very very reasonable prices.

For our final lunch together in Cape Town we head to the Food Market, which is just steps away from the shops and the aquarium.There is so much variety of food from all over the world it is hard to choose. "Ho fame!", says Yan with impeccable pronunciation, it's her second favorite Italian phrase. (Her favorite one is "Ho molta fame!") She has some Chinese noodle served bya smiling Taiwanese lady while I grab a refreshing frozen yoghurt with walnut topping.

But the main feature of our lunch will be fresh oysters which we buy from the "Oyster Lady", a small stand run by a lovely superblack lady that sells only oysters, excellent fresh South African oysters for what is to us a cheap price.

No drinks, no bread, nothing: just oyesters and oh yes some lemon. Not to be missed in the Waterfront Food Market if you like oysters.

Oyster lady

Well time to go to the airport. It's the end of our trip to South Africa, though I will continue on my own for a few days and then join a bunch of Italian photographers for a further tour of more sides of this multifaceted ountry. The airport is small but comfortable. There is a huge parking lot adjacent to the terminal, but it is almost completely emtpy and has an almost uneasy feeling to it even though it is still broad daylight.

I drop Yan off and, after waiting a bit for her delayed flight to take off, I sadly drive all by myself to Franschhoek in the late afternoon. Check-in at the Auberge Clermont was supposed to by at 7:00pm. I honestly had overlooked that detail on the reservation form but they gently remind me at 7:15 that check-in time is past but they will extend me the courtesy of waiting until 7:30. Because of the delay there is no way I am going to make even that deadline, so I am told that I am welcome to come later if I don't mind that the reception will be closed and only the night watchman will be there to see me to my room.  No choice, I am on the road by 8:00 pm.

It's a bit eery to drive at night in the countryside. The roads are good but there is very little lighting and virtually no one around. Well, almost no one: as soon as I leave the city I witness a nasty brawl by the roadside among half a dozen big black guys who scream and yell and throw punches at each other.

I hope my night watchman is there when I arrive and have to get off the car to ring the bell. Night watchman, in Dutch speaking country, I instinctively think of Rembrandt's masterpiece. Well it won't be nearly as grand but the very black and unDutch watchman will be there for me and do his job and then some.

When I finally make it to the hotel, all the lights are off and the gate is shut. I am not really at ease as I get off the car in the dark and start ringing the bell a few times. After about ten minutes I am welcomed by the night watchman who kindly shows me to the parking lot and helps carry my bags to the room in the second floor attic where I will spend the next few days.

Time to go to sleep, but not before reading the traveler's poem which I find on my pillow, written in a delicate almost translucent rollof paper and tied with a straw string.

14. - 20 Dec.: Cape Town tour and music

Tour of the city with Teddy, a big colored man in his mid-thirties who is passionate about his country and especially his city. He takes us around in his van, the two of us together with two Indian couples in their sixties from Delhi.

As he drives along he fills time with his personal anecdotes. A predictable but nonetheless moving one is his memory of the day Mandela was freed in 1990 and spoke to the crowd. It could have been the beginning of the end for the country. Blacks and coloreds were waiting for their day of revenge, or at least of payback. Teddy tells with still vibrant emotions that they were all waiting for a signal to go and get them... But Mandela spoke of peace and reconciliation, and South Africa lived.

He drops us off at the bottom of the cable car that will take us to the Table Top, the landmark mountain of Cape Town and  Natural World Heritage Site of UNESCO. We are lucky today: not only is the weather great: sunny and just slightly breezy. But, most importantly, there is very little wind, and wind is the main reason why the service is shut down on most days. Now however the cable car runs with hurried alacrity, ferrying hundreds of people up and down the mountain.

Not only that: at the bottom station of the cable car, a huge bill board proudly announces that Table Top has been declared a wonder of the world. Well...

The view from the top is indeed stunning. Lots of people but enough space for everyone to enjoy his personal corner with Cape Town, Robben Island and the ocean as background.

As we continue our tour, a more interesting and unusual story we hear from Teddy as we drive by the city court house. It is that of his brother, whose skin is very fair. While they sahre the same parents, Teddy came out much darker. It happens. because of his whitish skin, his brother Henry was taken away from his family and sent to white orphanage. It was not considered acceptable for a "white" kid to be brought up in a colored family. Henry spent some time in the white orphanage, while their mother tried all possible legal recourse to have him back home. It took some years, but in the end she prevailed. That a mother had to go through all that ordeal to prove a kid was her own son highlights once more, if needed, the absurdity of the foundation upon which the apartheid regime was built.

Evening of jazz with Sobelo, of Flipsidetrails. He is a dynamic jolly good fellow who organizes special tours ...off the beaten track. We are going to spend the evening and the night with local jazz musicians.

Our first stop is at the home of Hilton Schilder, in a suburb of Cape Town that we reach after a 20-minute drive. Hilton and his wife welcome us at the door and we are led into their small but comfortable house. After we take our seats in the living room, in front of a grand piano, Hilton tells us a bit about his personal history.

Hilton grew up in a musical family: he is the son of famous jazz pianist and band leader Tony Schilder. He was around when his dad’s jazz band rehearsed and secretly climbed on drummer Monty Weber´s drum kit when rehearsals were over. At the age of three he was given his first very own drum. From an early age he began to play in many different kinds of groups. There were jazz bands, Carnival troupes, disco bands, hip-hop groups and he was part of all of these in one way or another.

He now plays several instruments, though the keyboard is his main choice. Today he is playing an electric keyboard for us because his piano is out of tune.

In the 1980s he founded with Mac McKenzie The Genuines, which specialized in the music of the Cape Province Goema. He introduced experimental concept bands like African Dream and Iconoclast (with Victor Ntoni and Vusi Khumalo) to combine traditional South African music with contemporary genres. In addition, he led his own groups, he has performed with Festival on the Cape Town International Jazz, and went on tour with John Enders.

This band also performed in Germany, Holland and Italy. He has also performed solo in France. He was the driving force behind the band, Iconoclast, and he is a regular member of Robbie Jansen's, Sons of Table Mountain as well as substantial contributor to these groups' repertoire as a composer.

His first album under his own name No Turning Back (2003) was nominated in the category 'Best Contemporary Jazz Album' for a South African Music Award (SAMA). It offers a range of music from Cape Jazz, through rock/pop to electro ambient sounds.  With Alex van Heerden, he founded the duo RockArt, the direction in acoustic and electronic jazz minimal moves and also appeared in Switzerland. With Mac McKenzie he has launched in recent years, projects such as Namakwa, the District Six band and The Goema Captains of Cape Town to life. In 2008 he was given the opportunity, his various activities as Artist in Residence in the Bird's Eye Jazz Club in Basel imagine

Hilton's cultural roots are ever evident in his work. He is intensely aware of his social and political surroundings. He describes himself as a "mind freedom fighter".He has also been a fighter against his liver cancer, which at one point seemed to have seriously threatened his life but from which he now seems to have recovered.

Finally, his eclectic personality spans over the visual arts as well. He like painting and has produced interesting etchings.

by Hilton Schilder

In the meantime his wife is putting the final touches on her meal. As many South Africans, they are of mixed blood and also mixed culinary heritage and tonight's fare blends some Malay flavors with more purely African meat and veggies.

A simple but delicious meal and when we are done it feels as if we'd been friends for ages. I am sure we'll meet again.



But the musical evening is not out: after leaving the Schilders at around 10:00pm, we head back to twon for the Mohogany room pub, where Shane Cooper and his famed double bass are playing with a small band of piano, sax and drums.

On the way, Sobelo slides a CD by Abdullah Ibrahim, another symbol of the country's music, into his car's player.

At the Mohogany Room we are welcomed by a pretty lady at the door. After paying our ticket we walk inside and take our seat a few rows away from the stage. After which we go and grab a drink. I go for my usual boring gin and tonic, but Yan is faithful to her Sex on the beach. As always, she is met by a giggle and a shaking of heads from the other side of the counter... The wooden chairs in the small room is packed with an audience of perhaps eighty, and quite a few more are standing by the walls. It is quite hot and stuffy but the rythms.

Shane Cooper

It is quite warm though a couple of A/C machines pour a cold avalanche of freezing air right on top of our heads. I love it despite the fact that my skull is no longer protected by hair, but Yan finds this artificial breeze annoying. I tell her that there is not much we can do, it is hot as it is and it would be unbearably stuffy if they turned it off, and plus can we ask the management to make everyone else sweat, including me, because she does not like A/C.  But, as always, she has her way: during intermission she politely asks the lady at the counter if anything can be done and while I bury my head in my hands and look the other was the lady simply stops the A/C's swinging blades so that the cool air is now directed to the ceiling and not down to our heads. Simple.

When all of this is sorted out we can start enjoying our music. Shane Cooper, as often with double bass players in jazz, is a bit overshadowed by the piano, the drums and especially the sax. He does stand out in a couple of solo improvisations though, and his natural talent as well as his precise technique immediately strike me as out of the ordinary.


It's been a long day in Cape Town, and one to remember for a long time.

13. - 19 Dec.: Swellendam to Cape Town, through Stellenbosch

After another pantagruelic breakfast we head off for a walk in town. Swellendam is a quaint little place, but it is doaked in history as it is one of the very oldest towns in South Africa. The fourth oldest to be precise, and it retains its old charm even if modern shopping malls are popping up along the main street, which would otherwise very much look like a Western American desert town.

A little shopping and a few photographs to the beautiful orthensia that dot the streets and we drive to Stellenbosch. An easy drive, mostly downhill, heading straight for the Cape.

We reach Stellenbosch at about 4:00pm but again, like for the ostrich farm, the first vineyard we visit, ... is about to close down. A guard at the door comes walking towards us as we approach the gates of the tasting rooms after parking in the huge lot between the road and the vines. He is polite and smiling. In fact I get the feeling he is a bit bored and welcomes the chance to do something and talk to someone. No chance to taste anything here today, he says, they are closing down for the day. I'll be in the region for a few days but this is Yan's last chance for a good tasting of South African nectar before she heads back home. Time for Plan B.

I have a quick look at the various guidebooks in the car and we decide our best chance for a tasting of South African wine before dinner sits at the "L'avenir" ("the future" in French) farm. You can't really see L'avenir from the road unless you spot a board by their main gate. You then have to drive a small winding path seemingly in the middle of nowhere until you reach the farm.

Why "L'Avenir"? Why a French name in the middle of a country that boasts eleven official languages, of which nine are African and two (English and Afrikaans) are anglo-saxon? It's because of the immigration of French Huguenots escaping persecution by the Catholics in the 16th and 17th century France. The found refuge in many Protestant European and North American countries, and a few hundred families ended up in the Dutch Cape Colony. Here they were put to make wine. And today more than 90% of all South African wine is produced by the descendants of the Huguenots.

It is a purely bucholic setting, a small farmhouse in a gently sloping garden and, a few hunder meters away, the vines. We take a table outside and are attended to by Katie, a new girl in the farm, it's her first day on the job in fact.  Katie is a college student who makes some extra money for her studies. We taste a half dozen whites and red in the garden, in a idyllic setting but for a worker with a very loud lawn mower who is doing his thing just in front of us. Luckily after some 15 minutes he is done and moves on, leaving us with the tranquillity of a setting sun, blus sky, green rows of ripening grapes and our wines.

Grapes at l'Avenir are slowly maturing

With most of our senses sated we head out to drive to Cape Town, where we reach our hotel by the Waterfront. Dinner is at "The Greek Fishermen". Great fish soup, intense aroma and thick creamy texture, one of the best ever, and it would have been enough for a meal. But we are tempted by their seafood platter, expecting one of those imposing round trays with piles of shell fish and crustaceans on a think bed of ice. What we get, however is not much, is all cooked and not really exciting to the taste buds. Oh well.

Patrons here are mostly, though not exclusively, white, while waiting staff is mostly black or "colored", as they call mixed race people here. The Waterfront is the pulsating heart of international Cape Town, with upmarket restaurants, smart stores and an uninterrupted flow of tourists, both domestic and international.