also, again, I had no idea I’d have such difficult time being alone all day without anyone to talk to besides the sudanese-angolan who wanted money. 

I did get to climb a mountain and see a sunset though, so I kind of talked to the mountain.

I didn’t plan this day very well.
I was given a list, one of the people at the client copied parts of her CP bucket list from her phone. Thoroughly underestimated how long certain things would take, how long the walks would take in between places, and, most importantly, how things like the boat to Nelson Mandela’s prison island would require advance booking.
The waterfront was a tourist attraction that everyone told me I had to see, but for some reason it felt sad – it was too much like any indeterminate beautiful place in Europe or N America, lots of very cute toddlers playing, trendy shops with nice well-made things and white-people-prices, and I kept thinking of everything I saw yesterday. It also made me feel home sick.

Last night’s dinner was a gatsby – an enormous sandwich that we took back to my colleague’s in-laws and of which I could only eat about ¼.
Golden Dish is apparently legendary, and has been around forever.
He insisted that we stay close to the car and not venture too far from this corner.