I traveled to South Africa last week and it was shocking how far from Tanzania I felt (and actually was). To be fair, I didn't leave Cape Town, which I've been told is a lovely little island in an incredibly complicated country. But nonetheless, I kept saying to myself in true naive form, "this doesn't feel like Africa." What I really meant was, "this doesn't feel like the East Africa I am used to." It was as different from Tanzania as Mexico is from America and I had to keep reminding myself that just because a place shares a continent with my temporary home, doesn't mean it will resemble it at all.
And I'm happy it didn't. Taking a break from the rural life I lead was exactly what I needed to refresh and re-appreciate the slowness of Mto. I took a quick detour through Ethiopia—which felt incredibly familiar—and stepped off the plane into a dream. Grocery stores, wine country, Uber, unbelievable food, music, dancing, nature, vast expanses of ocean, scuba diving, sailboats, ferris wheels, bike rides, sundresses, three new flavors of Magnum bars. It had everything!
I've seen a lot of corners of the world and honestly this may have been my favorite. I kicked it off with a ride on the Cape Wheel, which overlooks the waterfront and gave me a beautiful first look at my new favorite city. For the last five years, after reading the book Devil in the White City about the invention of the ferris wheel, I've been on a little personal quest to ride ferris wheels all over the world. I've made loops over Bangkok, Tokyo, Singapore, Black Rock City and all over the U.S. It was a perfect way to start a trip that was filled with so many things I love.
I started to write about my eight day trip, but I realized a few paragraphs in that it didn't really make for good reading. People want anecdotes with lessons or humor or feeling. They don't care about the details of how I did my first cold water dive and saw how much I still have to learn or that I surfed for the first time and rode a wave all the way in or that I climbed Table Mountain at sunrise or that I watched the sun set over Signal Hill with my American friends who happened to also be there or that I ate corn dogs and a whole crab for lunch one day or that I was bit by a baboon after he came into my car and stole my bag and then I fought him to get it back. Wait actually, maybe people want to hear about that one?
Let me start this with a warning: Read this story and then remember it if you go to Cape Town. I'd read a similar story myself and completely forgotten the author's advice. Don't make this same mistake.
We were driving through Cape Point in the national park on Cape Peninsula and there were signs everywhere that said "! Baboons." When researching the drive a few days earlier, I'd read that the baboons were quite wily and would get into your car to look for food so be sure to lock your doors and close your windows. Yep, they can open doors. This completely slipped my mind and I just assumed the signs were warnings to watch out for them crossing the road. Near the Cape of Good Hope, we pulled over along the coast and I hopped out to take a photo on my phone.
My friend stayed in the car with her window down. As I was looking out at sea, from the corner of my eye I saw a baboon making his way up the road. He passed right next to a guy, checked him out and moved on, so he seemed completely harmless. In fact, when he jumped on top of our car, instead of doing anything proactive, I decided to annoyingly make a little boomerang video of him checking out Faye (see below). It took about five seconds for me to realize my mistake and I ran to the car just as he hopped in through the window and into the back, where my purse was sitting with everything I needed inside it. Also inside was an orange and a Kind bar. That bag was toast.
I opened the back door screaming at him to try to, I don't know, scare him I guess? In his creepy little hairy human hands rested my Canon DSLR, credit card, driver's license, AirBnB key and money. There was no way I was letting the little shit take off down the rocks with all of this, so I tried to grab it back and that's when it got dirty. We played tug of war for a bit—and then he bit me. He grabbed hold of my hand with the two piercing knives in his mouth and jaws of steel, breaking the skin and sending me jumping back in shock. My adrenaline was pumping so when he jumped out of the car, I chased him. I later read that you should never follow after a baboon because they can rip you to shreds if they feel threatened, but I was feeling fierce (and stupid) in that moment.
His crew quickly joined him and as he sat there dumping things out of the bag, unzipping every zipper and looking through every pocket, the other baboons circled around waiting for their turn to investigate. Every time I crept in close to try to pick up something that had dropped, one of his friends would jump in and snatch it up or snarl at me. They dumped out a pack of cards, unrolled toilet paper, and squeezed out sunscreen. Out of the crowd of at least 20 people watching, one woman came to help me. We slowly started gathering up my things as we could but when I had almost everything in hand, the original thief took off down the road. A tour guide in a car told me that if I let him be, he'd eventually leave the bag when the food was gone. He didn't. So I chased him again. And then a man with a huge stick joined me in the chase and somehow managed to flail and bang and scream enough to get my bag back. The gawking crowd dispersed and I thanked the woman and man sincerely. I got in the car, locked the doors and cried tears of relief.
It was terrifying. I was exhausted and embarrassed. And I now I had a South African monkey bite. Do monkeys carry HIV? They must at least carry rabies? Fuck, I need to go to a hospital. The rest of our evening plans were just ruined by my impending trip to the emergency room. We booked it out of there and started the hour drive back to Cape Town. On the way out of the park I was able to talk to park rangers who told me that the baboons there didn't have rabies and that because I'd had a tetanus shot in November, I would be fine. This made me feel infinitely better and I finally relaxed, until later that night when I started Googling about monkey bites. In my second panic, I called the hospital and a nurse confirmed what the ranger said. I relaxed again, until I woke up at 6am with throbbing pain in my hand and I started more frantic monkey-bite-Googling. I called the hospital again and they said that I could visit them or go to a pharmacy to see if I needed antibiotics for infection. The pharmacist confirmed there was nothing to be worried about and that it was just enflamed from a pretty strong bite from a fierce animal. I finally decided to accept this fourth professional's assessment and move on.
So my hand bruised up. My finger swelled. And the pain lasted a few days. Then it healed. And I don't think I have rabies. And the baboon didn't get my stuff. Faye says she thinks I won, but I'd say it was a draw because he got my Kind bar and damn those things are a tasty reminder of home. Now I'll always have this memory of being one of those dumb ass tourists who let a baboon into her car. In fact, I bet I'll be on YouTube soon.
One of the reasons I travel is for experiences like this. To start a day awakened by god-awful roosters at 4am in one African country and end a 15-hour journey overlooking the ocean from a rooftop patio in another. To have moments of solitude slide in next to moments of chaos. To feel comfort in being anonymous. To feel grateful that as a 32-year-old woman, I get to step slowly through my life, opening doors to so many incredible places. To see worlds underwater and breathe the scents of a thousand cuisines. To scratch the ears of stray kittens in my local bar and be scratched by the claws of wild beasts. Some days are hard when you travel. A lot of them are hard when you move away to a rural village for half a year. But weeks like my last remind me how lucky I am to have opened my life up to exploration. If you ever make it to Cape Town, I can't imagine you won't feel the same way.
Just don't feed the baboons.
Best.
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