From the top we could see long distances, along the Cape mountain range to the ocean and, on the other side, the whole city. We had a pleasant hike along the top, again admiring the Fynbos, and occasionally getting lost in the clouds. After a few hours we rushed back to the pier to catch the boat to Robben Island. The ride itself provided spectacular views of Cape Town; again Table Mountain stole the show. We arrived on Robben Island and boarded the tour bus for the first part of the visit. I have to be honest; it was hard for me to get the full sense of the gravity of this place. I don’t know if part of it was that the main cell blocks (where Nelson Mandela was housed for example) were under renovation or because the crowd was pretty big making it hard to hear everything. But, regardless, I was struck by the experience of some of the prisoners - for example, they were forced to toil uselessly at a quarry in the blistering sun, and many are now partly blind from the reflection of the sun off the rocks. One of the guides was an ex-political prisoner himself, and as he described his living conditions and the horrific experiences of some of his cell mates I wondered how the prisoners did not become hopeless. They were all fighting for something greater than themselves, he explained in response to someone who asked that very question. Hearing about their experiences made it hard to believe that the 120 people currently living on the island are both ex-prisoners and ex-wardens. Reconciliation rather than retribution - it is amazing to imagine and definitely not for me to judge.
As our sun luck persisted the next day we decided to rent a car and head south along the peninsula to Cape Point and the Cape of Good Hope. The drive was lovely, the first part close to the shore and through some quaint towns.
Our first stop was at Boulders Beach to visit the huge colony of African Penguins, some of the only mainland penguins in the world. We were mesmerized watching them waddle, follow each other into the water, and trip down the large steel gray boulders. Their obliviousness to our presence and their solidarity with each other (maybe we are personifying them a bit) made them all the more adorable. It took quite a bit of effort to peel ourselves away, especially for Nima. Finally, though, we drove down to Cape Point National Park. I had mistakenly thought that this is the point at which the rough waters of the Atlantic meet the calmer waters of the Indian Ocean but actually that occurs a few hundred km east of where we stood. But the Cape of Good Hope is still aptly named because as the Portuguese sailors rounded the Cape the waters calmed and they knew they had reached the southern end of Africa. The sky was clear and the water an iridescent blue. From the cliffs we saw birds catch the wind and soar effortlessly out of sight. We hiked to the Cape of Good Hope in relative quiet with the ocean waves breaking against the beach about 150 feet below. Our favorite view was to the east of Cape Point where Africa’s southern tip seemed visible (though it was probably still too far away). 
Our drive back to Cape Town was even more dazzling than our drive down. The road on the western side of the peninsula is over 100 years old (though at the time they were using horse-drawn carriages) and skirts sometimes perilously close to the cliff edge. Towns lay nestled into the hillsides, white building and Spanish tile roofs twinkling in the sunlight. The sun was just beginning to set and colored the sky and the water in shades of purple and pink. Our last night with Pal in Cape Town was as good as our day. We headed to the Nose Bar, a local wine bar and laid-back food/cafe joint. Over wine flights we talked about everything, or so it seemed. 
Nima and I still had two days left in town. We had a chance to visit another neighborhood called Bo-Kaap. The community is largely Moslem, originally from many different regions in the world. Our guide was a long-term resident; she grew up in the same house in which she is raising her children. She showed us through the area, explaining the unimaginable increase in the prices of the homes and early gentrification. She explained how everyone in the community knows and supports each other. Every person greeted her as they passed. Also everyone knows when a community-member has died. First there is an announcement from the loudspeaker at the mosque and then neighbors inform each other. While we were there, there was an announcement of the death of a gentleman that used to live in the neighborhood before Apartheid. Bo-Kaap remained fairly intact over the years, even to some extent during the years of Apartheid though some residents were moved out. Our guide, as she explained this, proceeded to quiz us on the intricate definitions of race used by the Apartheid government in order to illuminate the illogic of the whole process. “What is Cape Malay? How would a Muslim from India be classified? How about a Muslim from North Africa? How about a non-Muslim with the same skin color from the same country in North Africa?” and so on. People could petition to change their race. Absurd.
During our visit, I was struck most by a woman whose home we went to for tea and snacks. About 45 years old, she is incredibly exuberant and engaged. She has recently become an entrepreneur, teaching local cooking to tourists. We spent about an hour and a half with her but it was after we left that we heard her life story. As a young woman she had fallen in love and married a young priest. Her family had been excited.
She was a bit shunned by the community because they felt that her husband was quite a catch and that she was not quite worthy of him. He turned out to be quite a jerk. His abuse of her took on different forms and she withdrew into herself. Even after he left her, she was not able to get out of her shell. But seeing her potential our guide had asked her if she would be willing to host exchange high-school students from around the world. After a relatively short time, she started opening up again and is now the woman who we met - energetic and spirited.Our final day in Cape Town was guided by our plans to climb Mount Kilimanjaro. We did not have our trip quite in order but we knew that we were a bit short on gear and that South Africa was our last chance to stock up. We had quite a day of shopping for layers upon layers which we were later very happy for. It seems that time slips away from you when there is a list of things to do. But luckily a couple of hours before the sunset we were done and we had time to spend outside in the wine country area again. We asked a random woman if she knew any good place to hike. She told us nonchalantly to follow the road until we hit the mountains. We drove and were shocked to find one of the loveliest areas we have ever hiked in. The mountains were towering jagged gray rocks jutting high into the air and peeking out every now and then from the clouds. We walked in a slight mist along the lush green valley as it approached the canyons beyond the park. It was a great way to end our visit in Cape Town. Off to Victoria Falls.
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