After finally arriving in Cape Town, albeit without my bags, again, I had a day before my friend (and former roommate) arrived for two weeks. As my bag was coming that night, or the next day, I didn’t bother going to buy anything. Plus, I was not in an area conducive to shopping. I was staying in the Observatory, known for coffee shops and bars, a university district. So I hung out in coffee shops, read a lot, and did some trip planning. Luckily, after the last bag fiasco, I had learnt my lesson and had packed a few essentials in my carry on.

Having had enough of the Observatory district (which felt a bit isolated from the rest of Cape Town), I met Alysson at a new hostel in Green Point, an area within (safe) walking distance to downtown and close to the waterfront. We settled in for a few nights. We spent our time doing free walking tours, checking out (fairly lacklustre) museums, and the city’s burgeoning craft beer scene. We had pre-booked a tour to Robben Island, the site of the famous prison where Nelson Mandela was kept for many many years, but woke up in the morning and found it was cancelled due to the high wind, meaning rough seas. Which also meant hiking Table Mountain was out of the question, so we did the next best thing: grabbed a bottle of wine and went to watch the Lion King. We were in Africa after all!

After a few days in Cape Town we picked up our rental car (after a lot of hassle- apparently the third party company booked the car for the airport instead of downtown), and headed out to explore the peninsula. We stopped for fish and chips along the coast, to see the penguins, and enjoyed the stunning drive. We had thought about continuing further that night, but ended up back in Cape Town, just in time for happy hour, so we stayed another night.

Meanwhile, my bag saga continued. Every day I would call the number I had been given, the baggage claim for Cape Town International Airport, and be told that my bag would be put on a flight from Johannesburg shortly, and then they would deliver it to me. Finally, by the fourth day, I was calling from our hostel, being given various numbers of station managers, baggage claims and airline numbers for Addis Ababa, Cape Town and Johannesburg, when the receptionist asked for the phone. She was frustrated on my behalf (apparently Ethiopian airlines took 4 weeks to get her Dad’s back once) and proceeded to lay down the law. She sent us out for the day and told me to buy some clothes and claim them on my credit card insurance, while she continued to try and get someone to take responsibility.

Finally, we went shopping, seeking out an outdoors store where I stocked up on shirts, jeans, and an expensive rain jacket, as it was really cold at night, but it was end of season, so the only one that fit was a bit pricey. We headed out for the night with fresh clothes (I had been borrowing Alysson’s clothes). When we came home, we laughed, seeing a truck in the driveway reading “the bag guys”. My bag had finally arrived. A couple of weeks later I met a girl who jumped on the bus with only a small bag. When the driver asked her where her luggage was, she said Ethiopian had lost them. It had already been two weeks.

Needless to say, I bought the receptionist at the hostel a bottle of wine when we returned to Cape Town a week later. I’m still waiting on the credit from my credit card but did manage a $100 cheque from Ethiopian, after complaining many times, and explaining to them that their website states that as entitlement. And my Africa trip has begun! TIA!