The South African coastline – particularly near the Cape – is littered with shipwrecks and Arniston (Waenhuiskrans) takes its name from the ship that was wrecked here in 1815.

Only six of the 378 on board survived.

Next to it is Kassiesbaai, the tiny fishing village ‘where the coloureds live’. I find the whole race / how you refer to people’s ethnicity a real struggle in South Africa. I find it hard to get my head round the ‘funny foreign sounding’ place names in South Africa too. In Uganda I’ve become used to African names; and now they’re Afrikaans and English and my brain doesn’t compute (aren’t we still in Africa?) I hadn’t realised either just how many coloureds (God this is a minefield) speak Afrikaans as their first language. I say I only speak English and the reply still comes back in Afrikaans.

While out shopping one day, I’m mistaken for the mother of Odille, the South African baby adopted by W-A (two of H’s friends have adopted orphans). It’s an interesting feeling.

Baby Odille – what a cute chick!

Agulhas, where the Indian Ocean meets the Atlantic Ocean. South Africa

Cape Agulhas, ‘the southernmost point of Africa,’ and where the Atlantic meets the Indian Ocean, was worth the trip, just for the fun we had larking about at the monument. The rockpools were teaming with life and the quaint but charming tearoom under the lighthouse was very welcoming but we were on a mission: “Alan wants chips” so we trotted off down the road for a ‘Hake and Calamari Combo’ in the sunshine outside the fish and chip shop.

Considerable energy was focused on eating and drinking during my three weeks in South Africa. Considerable time was invested in arguing over controversial topics such as “do you like grapes in salad? or scrambled eggs on Marmite on toast?” as we ate large breakfasts, discussed what we were having for lunch – and what we needed to buy for dinner.

Introducing Waterkloof Winery

So with food, wine (and little else) in mind, next stop was the Waterkloof winery, above Sir Lowry’s Pass, for a fabulous lunch and some sensational wine (I particularly liked the rosé). It was very exciting to eat there during its first week of opening.

Exterior of Waterkloof Winery, Western Cape. The winery has breathtaking views across False Bay

Waterkloof Winery, Western Cape view of the recently planted vines. December 2009

What a fantastic day: my first time with family for 9 months & a quick drive round the Waterkloof estate. (I was very envious to hear K and P had ridden the estate on horseback that morning!) Waterkloof has a breathtaking view across False Bay and Cape Town. The planting of indigenous plants along the roadside was interesting to see, as were the large artworks on display (and sale) and the combination of traditional production methods and a very modern restaurant …

Lunch at Waterkloof Winery, Western Cape. South Africa. The food was simply out of this world!

A superb lunch with my aunt and uncle and friends at Waterkloof Winery. South Africa

I have to ask myself: back in Uganda, is matooke ever going to taste the same?

Nairobi, Johannesburg, Arniston, Betty’s Bay, Cape Town, I certainly packed a lot in: new cultures, new friends, two job offers, family time, an underwater meeting with Great White Sharks, my first whale sightings, even a few more freckles.

Diving with Great White Sharks off the coast of South Africa

Awaking from a nightmare at 4.45 a.m. was not the ideal start to a day that involved leaving the house before dawn, on my own, for a drive across country to dive into cold Atlantic water with man-eating sharks ….

I was this close. Great White Shark diving, Gansbaai, South Africa. PHOTO Michael Rutzen’s www.sharkdivingunlimited.com

Photographing Great White Sharks, Gansbaai, South Africa

Six of us fitted into the cage at a time, flatteringly attired in wet suits and face masks. The cage looked sturdy enough but there were big gaps between the bars – big enough for a Great White to put his snout through! O yes. As the crewman reeled the bait towards us, one slammed right into the cage just a few inches from my right knee, I can still see it now, my knee / its snout in the same frame. In a spilt second I screamed inwardly “Get me out of here now!” willing there to be an ejector seat button under my finger.

Great White Shark diving Gansbaai. Each small-looking fin is attached to over two metres of Great White Shark!

Human bait. Were we mad? We took it in turns to climb into the cage and duck under the water as the Great White Sharks were lured towards us

The sharks – we were lucky enough to see two – slowly swam under or round the boat. And they weren’t small. The second measured a whopping 3.2 metres. I’ll say it again: 3.2 metres of killing machine.

But it was after the arrival of The Big One that I got back in the cage for the second time (how I’d forgotten about the ejector seat I don’t know!) The shark came steaming at us, his jaw opening and snapping shut, opening and snapping shut, chasing after the tuna head. I rammed myself to the back of the cage and in seconds he’d gone. That was scary. As we came up for air, me and the guy next to me screamed at each other “that was a bit f**king close!!”

Even when viewed from aboard the boat, I just can’t get over how big that Mother was.

The muscular flick of the shark’s tail reminds you of its strength. Great White Shark turning. diving Gansbaai

The force of the animal is something else. It swims along quite serenely but when it flicks its tail, you know about it; the cage rocked from side to side violently, even the boat did. You have to respect the power of that beast.

Senseless, ridiculously scary, these are all just words that frankly don’t mean anything at all. I leapt up out of the cage at one point screaming “F**K MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” and even then it meant nothing. I quite simply ran out of swear words and Ladies and Gentlemen, you know I know a few!

This simple silhouette measures over three metres in length. Great White Shark diving South Africa

The afternoon was bound to be an anticlimax after all that adrenalin yet there was more excitement on the way home as we passed a pod of dolphins. As the boat suddenly pitched to one side I threw myself onto the deck; there was no way I was risking being thrown into the sea – not now I knew what’s down there! I had to laugh at myself.

White sandy beach Western Cape South Africa, seen from our shark diving boat

Being in the water with the Great Whites was an amazing experience. Naomi, H’s South African nanny, was so dumbfounded that I’d been in the water with the sharks that when I told her about the crew ‘chumming’ the water to attract the sharks, she pulled a face and asked “what – with human blood?”

I mean – there are extremes and then there are extremes!

A quick limb count (two arms, two legs, a full set of fingers and toes) before driving back to Arniston with a detour via the village of De Kelders and the most breathtaking panoramic view across the enormous bay, Cape Town in the far distance. Two little Afrikaaner boys came running upto me, pointing excitedly to the coastline where a mother and calf Southern Right Whale (so named because they were the ‘right ones’ to kill back in the day) were lazily floating by on the current.

Great White Sharks, dolphins and whales – what an incredible day!

The summit of Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania pokes through the thick blanket of cloud thousands of feet beneath us – an image I’ll never forget – as we fly south.

Day breaks over Kilimanjaro, en route to South Africa

The three hour journey to Johannesburg seemed to last an eternity: a week of burning the candle at both ends, a head cold, just 3½ hours sleep in Nairobi, and I’m unable to sleep bolt upright in a seat that refuses to recline.

I’m sat next to a large, thick-set man. There’s barely room for him to move in his seat but he daintily eats his lunch with the tiny plastic cutlery. I casually try to start a conversation; I mistake his shyness for arrogance and it’s only as we prepare to land that he starts chatting. He’s an ex-policeman, returning home from Sudan where he works as a security consultant for the UN. He lives on an enormous military base outside Darfur “the biggest operation the UN has ever undertaken” he says and points proudly to the UN logo on his shirt.

I can’t get used to the smooooooth Tarmac … the newly resurfaced airport road, Cape Town

Despite what I’d heard, I felt safe enough in Jozi (Johannesburg). I’d certainly forgotten about the city’s reputation as I drove my friend’s brand new car around the ‘carjacking capital of the world.’

But there are constant security reminders: high walls, electric security gates, outdoor lighting, security firm plaques, electrified fencing, security beams around the garden, the odd siren. The doors to the house are never left unlocked and we padlock a gate at the top of the stairs before retiring to bed with the dogs.

Life in Uganda has got me used to the security guards in car parks and shopping malls. What surprised me in Johannesburg were the ‘rear view mirrors’ at eyeline on the cashpoint machines / ATMs. You can’t ignore the sign at the airport that says “Any person making inappropriate comments about hijackings, bomb warnings, carriage of firearms or weapons will be prosecuted.”

H has a small army of paid workers and I’m soon part of the support team. H and I were flatmates in London many years ago and we joke about how “VSO really doesn’t prepare you for how to manage domestic staff.”

Busman’s holiday? **

First day of my ‘holiday’ and I’m supervising the four gardeners landscaping her garden. They all wear blue overalls, not a gum boot in sight (unlike Uganda where it’s not a surprise if workers are barefooted – even on a construction site). Next day I’m reading a poem to fifty people at Baby Lizzie’s naming ceremony (thanks for the half hour notice H!) By the end of the week I’ve cooked dinner, started redecorating the baby’s bedroom and become an au pair!

Arniston Bay, Western Cape, South Africa

At the airport, the baby entourage includes Naomi the nanny and we all get fast-tracked onto the plane. We all chorus ‘cluck-cluck-cluck’ chicken noises to distract the baby all the way to Cape Town. H jokes is breast-feeding and nicknames herself Express Dairies.

We’re quickly processed at the newly refurbished airport then it’s a two hour drive east to Arniston, mountains to our left, the sea to our right. Perfectly round rockpools, jellyfish washed up on the shore, African Black Oystercatchers and a dazzling turquoise sea. We head towards Overberg bypassing the Winelands (temporarily!)

“You’ll notice your eggs boil a lot quicker here than in Johannesburg,” H says and I click: being at sea level, I’m 1000 metres lower than the usual altitude of Kampala. This doesn’t make me feel good as I recall how difficult my early morning run had been (it should’ve been easier)…

What is a busman’s holiday?

“A holiday in which you spend most of your time doing the same or something very similar to your normal work.  It comes from the late 1800’s, where a man who drives a bus for a living goes on a long bus journey on their holiday.” Johannesburg was a change of scene for me but H had me working as hard as if I was back in Kampala!