Shopping, Scoffing and Sunshine in South Africa

Curiosities of Cape Town

Susan’s been globe-trotting again…

Arriving at the luggage reclaim in Cape Town, I couldn’t spot a single black face among the passengers from our plane. South Africa does seem to attract a certain type of tourist – less package tour, more ‘comfortably travelled.’  There’s an air of middle-England Middletonia about the place. Elderly gents in floppy-brimmed cricket style hats accompany floral-dressed ladies to afternoon tea. Aspiring businessmen meet aspirational divorcees over cocktails on the lawn. Fine looking, suntanned young men hang out with fresh-faced, longhaired girls on yachts and safaris.

After an overnight flight from the UK, the first thing most visitors want to do is to crash out on a sun lounger by the pool.  I did this and promptly fell to sleep under an umbrella. I forgot that the sun was moving, so half my body ended up being scorched under blisteringly hot rays. The next day I looked as though I’d been folded in half, like Harry Worth in a shop window – one side of me was white and the mirror image was lobster red. “British people always roast themselves in the sun and end up looking so stupid,” announced a passing American hotel guest loudly to his Cara-thigh-gapped companion.


Our hotel’s emblem was a seal – many of which were seen lolloping on the wooden deck beneath our window. Increasingly bronzed (on one side), and fattened by some splendid meals, I began to identify more and more with my blubbery brethren. Sadly, many of its inhabitants struggle to afford a decent meal, but Cape Town has plenty to offer les gourmands Anglais (a name kindly bestowed upon my husband and I during one legendary holiday in France).

Top on my list of restaurants visited are: Blues in Camps Bay – one of the oldest established eateries in the area, serving fabulously fresh seafood, overlooking the beach; Gold – a converted church in an offbeat part of Greenpoint, with a delicious set five course Cape Malay menu and lively African entertainment; Belgian tourist trap, Den Anker, on the Waterfront – which offered me a bib to eat shellfish (I took a photo before and after my piri-piri prawns just to prove I’d made no mess whatsoever)… And The Roundhouse – an ex Dutch East India Company guardhouse and former hunting lodge overlooking Camps Bay (magical at sunset), which serves some of the finest contemporary cuisine in South Africa. Try the organic ‘vegetable patch’, poached salmon trout, fallow deer and passion fruit soufflé with coconut sorbet.


There was no escaping the French on this trip either, as a French frigate was also parked beneath our hotel window. I’m not talking about a bird here, but a warship – with guns. For several days people scurried to and from the boat. One night there was a party involving whistles and elaborate naval hats (were several admirals on board, perhaps?) The day the vessel left was the very definition of a military operation: l’hélicoptère was spectacularly unveiled and prepared for action. Tugs, cranes and macho operatives worked with absolute precision, as marines lined up in salute, and a fanfare of trumpets marked the boat’s departure. The following morning, a Cayman Islands registered 303 foot super yacht called Tatoosh moored in exactly the same spot.

Due to one of BA’s all too often re-boots of their media system, I’d watched half a French film on the way out too. The Intouchables is based on a true story of a wealthy French quadriplegic and his black carer. Fortunately, I caught the second half on the way back. It was moving and funny – and testament to the Earth Wind and Fire effect (When I was at university, one of my fellow students visited her doctor complaining she was feeling depressed. He didn’t prescribe any drugs, but suggested that she listen to as much Earth, Wind and Fire music as possible.)


As for shopping, there are a variety of malls and craft markets in Cape Town. In the Craft Market and Wellness Centre, you’ll find an eclectic selection of stalls with psychics, crystals, jewellery, handicrafts and books – such as My Life as an Apple Tree and Stalking the Tricksters. Forgetting to take a book with me, I opted for one called Top 5 Regrets of the Dying… a slow and far from uplifting holiday read, if not a regrettable purchase. However, it made me recall something I discovered researching a book of my own – that poor Africans, faced with the ever-present threat of death, are much more philosophical about it than we are. And, perhaps it’s something to do with the sunshine, but everyone I met in Cape Town was smiling and wanted to share a joke.

Also on the Waterfront, The African Trading Port has a stunning offering of curiosities from all over Africa, ranging from stuffed lions, metal and stone statues to traditional carved wooden artefacts, furniture, contemporary sculpture and artworks. Plus, Woolworths is still alive and well… in South Africa. The store is a sort of cross between Marks & Spencer and Zara, with clothes that actually fit (unlike M&S – too large, and Zara – too small) and unfussy home accessories. There’s a great selection of knickers, including plenty for those who find thongs excruciating and big knickers ugly. And, because of the relative value of the Rand, you can buy these for less than half the price of their UK equivalent.


I’ve visited Cape Town and the winelands before, but on this occasion took my first trip up Table Mountain – and to Robben Island. I would strongly recommend both. On a fine day, the views from Table Mountain are simply breathtaking. I made it my mission to get as far away as possible from the chap who, having reached the top of one of the oldest mountains on earth, decided to have a cellphone shouting match with his bank. A trip to Robben Island, where many political prisoners, including Nelson Mandela, were held captive, is both humbling and inspiring. But the prison-museum turned out to be less scary than a modern day medicine man jabbering dementedly in Zulu at his mobile phone for fifteen minutes on the ferry ride.


Anyway, to sum up, Cape Town offers great weather, a wide array of natural and manmade wonders, fantastic food and excellent value for money – so long as you can stomach the hefty airfare and the inequality.

Susan Muncey is a trend forecaster, blogger and founder of online curiosity shop,
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About Author Profile: Susan Muncey

Trend consultant Susan Muncey, is Editor of Visuology Magazine. In 2008, she founded online curiosity shop, She writes on style and trends for several blogs, including, and The Dabbler. She previously owned cult West London boutique, Fashion Gallery, one of the first concept stores in the world. Susan graduated in geography from Cambridge University and is also an Associate Member of the CFA Institute. She lives in London with her husband.

10 thoughts on “Shopping, Scoffing and Sunshine in South Africa

    February 12, 2013 at 08:51

    I wouldn’t mind a wee sojourn to the sunshine right now I can tell you!

    It’s a shame that despite spending a year living in South Africa, I never got to visit Cape Town. I was staying with an Afrikaans family in Jo’burg and I was warned under no uncertain terms that I was not to visit Cape Town as it was full of Communists and Homosexuals.

      February 12, 2013 at 20:22

      How long ago were you in Jo’burg, Worm? I can understand why there might be communists…

      By the way, I found this interesting video about gun crime and gun control in South Africa – I think it deserves a comment from Rita.

      • Worm
        February 13, 2013 at 09:14

        I was there before the elections in 1993. There were a lot of scared Afrikaaners about.

        Beautiful country though, and back then it was ridiculously cheap. A packet of cigarettes (the standard I use to measure all currencies by) was 39p. The beer (the standard I use to measure all civilisations by) was also quite palatable – Castle if I recall. I don’t remember actually seeing anything cultural whatsoever, but at least the booze and fags were good.

    February 12, 2013 at 12:16

    Call me old-fashioned but my eye was drawn immediately to the word ‘thigh’, which I clicked, being unable to even guess what ‘Cara-thigh-gapped’ could possibly mean – a Cape Town expression perhaps? Fortunately my child-bride was upstairs ironing the cat’s worry-blanket when the air between Cara and Alex’s thighs hove into view c/o Mail Online.
    The wise words of Seneca immediately came back to haunt me ‘What need is there to weep over parts of life? The whole of it calls for tears’
    The plain truth of one of my daughters a few years ago also chimed in ‘They don’t do it for men Dad, they do it for themselves’. I’m happy to say that the Bergen-Belsen look has never had much traction in this house – we are more ‘cake people’.

      February 12, 2013 at 20:29

      Long may the Mahlers eat cake! Make mine a walnut sponge with thick butter icing…

      February 12, 2013 at 20:38

      I misread ‘backcrack’ and thought you were talking about David Beckham, Worm. Photoshopping is, of course, largely responsible for all of this…

      February 12, 2013 at 22:36

      It’s Time to Declare War On the Thigh Gap

      I’d like to lead the defensive forces resisting aggression.

    Joey Joe Joe Jr.
    February 12, 2013 at 23:53

    If you’re ever in Cape Town between the months of (I think) June and November Hermanus to the south is well worth a visit, just for the chance to see whales. You don’t even need to get on a boat, we saw plenty just standing on the coast. The species that is most commonly seen on these coasts is the Southern Right, which might not be the most well known, or biggest, or most interesting type of whale, but is, I’m pretty sure, the ugliest.

    February 13, 2013 at 05:38

    “When I was at university, one of my fellow students visited her doctor complaining she was feeling depressed. He didn’t prescribe any drugs, but suggested that she listen to as much Earth, Wind and Fire music as possible.”

    Not sure the GMC would approve, but wonderful nonetheless.

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