How do real disabled people do this travel thing, because after spending 72 hours in Cape Town, trying to ‘tourist’ I have come home feeling pretty much unaccomplished and laden with concerns if we’re ever going to really enjoy family travel again.
Well, okay. Yes. That statement comes across as overdramatic, but for real- I feel like most of my attempts to do something to build memories has been beset with niggles and stress: the safety and spaces available out in the world for disabled travellers/people is as prolific and available as technically legal, and that’s about IT. Yes, care and compassion of the general public is warm and there is plenty kindness and patience out there for the physically challenged people. But yoh: travel is easier when you are fit.
Restaurants – understandably- seem to be the most wheelchair unfriendly- despite various parking areas and ramps included in their planning, we really have struggled to get into a restaurant in the same manner we used to.
Tourist hot-spots aren’t all suitable, although there is definitely an attempt to be. But then again, when God made penguins, built a beach for them to inhabit, and Man decided to conserve, make money and show off the penguins on Boulders Beach, perhaps it never was Gods’ plan to give access to everyone. (Likewise The Great Barrier Reef I’m certain, the Great Wall of China, and probably even Table Mountain – which was closed for routine maintenance so fortunately we never even attempted that. No, we’ve not attempted Australian oceans of Chinese Walls either yet).
From a personal perspective, the world’s disabled parking bays have left me a in a rather reflective area of thought. Hubby is not wheelchair bound, and we never arrived at the point that we should apply for disabled parking permits. Certainly gaining access to those parking spaces in South Africa has come with “I need to see your disabled parking permit” – but when I explain we don’t HAVE a wheelchair, but merely a physically challenged husband, they are very accommodating but it begs the question: is there a really a line that shouldn’t be crossed when it comes to disabled parking?
And yes, wheelchair accessibility is okay for the most part if you need them- not every surface is glacially smooth, and for example, had we actually HAD a wheelchair for Boulders Beach For Penguins of Cape Town, he would not have actually enjoyed the rutted walkways, the tight corners, nor the millions of tour groups all taking selfies. But hubby’s ability to walk long distances is our ‘handicap’ and so, we left him at a café, where we had to help him step up a dinky dodgy pavement, and set him in front of a cappuccino while the girls and I hustled off to join the selfie-taking penguin tourists.
Still, the kindness of so many people trying to help us makes me believe in the compassion of people. For example, we did take hubby off to the Two Oceans Aquarium where I had researched would be a viable trip for him. The security guard in the disabled parking area went out of his way to accommodate us. He guided me to the staff who could supply a wheelchair to take him around in. (We discovered that there are actually quite a few places that have wheelchairs available to use). And being an aquarium, they definitely streamlined the process of manoeuvring around. Sadly, this time it was the kids who lingered over the information plaques, and hubby was the person ‘racing’ ahead waiting to be done.
Later however, we discovered that parking in the city and suburbs and finding somewhere to enjoy a meal ended up being a rather mute affair: Kalk Bay’s streets are angled at 45 degrees, parking anywhere remotely accessible for a physically challenged human was scarce and perhaps a toasted croissant, poached egg and Hollandaise sauce breakfast at Olympia Café would have been welcomed once upon a time; certainly the accessibility for this family has slimmed down to 5%- there was nothing stress-free about it.
After realising Kalk Bay wasn’t ideal for us, we drove through Simons Town and skipped their Naval Museum, also set into the mountain side and parking/navigating into the museum would have been challenging, and I just decided to drive out to the Cape Point Nature reserve to take in the views. But picturesque panoramic views don’t hold the same weight when it’s hard to appreciate it from a position of not being able to stand up properly. Or from the point of your car-sick prone teens. Thus I wound my hire car up the hills, twisted it backwards and forwards through the beauty of the fynbos koppies and passes, found myself wishing I could stop somewhere to take a photo, terrified though that the shoulder of the road wasn’t wide enough and we’d find ourselves in an accident and I just drove on, the intention of driving up Chapman’s Peak Drive and down to Hout Bay for marina fish and chips.
At least a local meal would appease my sense of box-ticking, reliving the trip from 15 years ago. Alas, we had already missed out on one of those ‘box-ticking’ moments when the turn off to the Rhodes Memorial wasn’t as clear as this scaredy-pants driver hoped for, and quite sick of doing roundabouts I have given up on that photo recreation: Alex, Anton and I sitting on the steps. It remained to be seen exactly how hubby would have got there so perhaps it’s a good thing?
And of course, grey rainy skies have lingered over the Cape for 3 weeks now, widespread devastating flood damage has caused destruction to homes of the poorer communities and washed roads away after landslides occurred. Sadly we realised too late, given the history of Chapmans Peak Drive, that it was closed, thus the idea a beautiful inspiring descent down that side of the mountain, followed by a Sea Point drive back to the southern suburbs fell by the wayside.
Now completely fading under the influence of hunger pangs at 2pm, we attempted a last ditch attempt to find the café at the botanical gardens, a memory I had from our visit to Cape Town from 15 years ago. Alas, a seated restaurant at 3pm was out of the question, and while kind staff offered a wheelchair to go inside the gardens to the tea room inside, we had to pay for the privilege. Which I did. And then attempted to push hubby through on his wheelchair, only for him to refuse to go in – it was more than 500 metres away and he didn’t want to be pushed through and put us under pressure so we turned back and left the beauty of the National Botanical Gardens, and the chance to maybe grab a toastie behind us.
All four of us in the family by then were about to eat each other, so the 5 minute drive back to our hosts was beset by a vaporous mood, myself stewing in my inability to find success at pretty much anything all day.
What have I brought my family down to this beautiful place for, if it’s fraught with deep breaths at Every. Single. Turn?
I guess there’s blogs and websites everywhere that could have guided me through the mire, but the reality is: life is so much easier if we just kuier with our friends, around a table, listening to the joy of new-found friendships in our children.
Cape Town was supposed to be a week of making memories for our little family. As it is, we spent a fair bit of time remembering our trip there 15 years ago with Alex as a baby. “Remember going up to the Rhodes Memorial? and then when we were ignored at Olympia Café and walked up to the little grassy triangle up the road where we sat and ate braai’d prawns and braai’d tuna steaks from a guy at a weird tin shack?”
Instead I feel like we battled at every moment: skipped meals, tensions that ran high, weather that didn’t show Table Mountain, stressing about how to get hubby out places. (Were we even there if we couldn’t take a photo of The Mountain?😆). But the reality is, we were there. Alex, Beth, Anton and myself flew to Cape Town, we met up with dear, dear friends and family who went out of their way for us and our kids met some new friends who they will probably remember more than the downside I’ve just regaled.
Writing these emotions out has served its purpose. Regret has plagued me for the last 48 hours, but all it takes is a reversal of my angst. We did it. It doesn’t matter how we did it. New friendships were made. We learnt something about our new life that we didn’t figure last month. And not to sound like a knob, we’re still here to do it.
So here’s a gratitude paragraph. Thank you Anton for willingly taking the flight down to Cape Town. Thank you to the staff of FlySafair who welcomed us with a smile at every opportunity, who pushed him through on a wheelchair so kindly. Thank you too, First Car Rental whose staff went out of their way to assist with pick up and drop off. (The confusion on our arrival was my fault alone, and has now give me driving anxiety). It’s not often I punt businesses and I need to actually send them a proper email sometime. Thank you staff at the Two Oceans Aquarium, and the Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens for your assistance too. They were friendly and again, any mishap encountered was my own stubbornness.
A huge thank you our hosts in Cape Town, to Claire and Andrew. 15 years has past since we last saw you in CT, and it’s a sense of pride that we can pick up where we left off. Certainly the hospitality hasn’t changed from then, and we were treated like royalty down there under the eaves of the (shy) mountain. It is a true delight to meet your children, and watch them bond with ours, a reflection of who they are and where they come from: ourselves! The time you gave us was generous and most definitely welcome. Thank you.
Another thank you to Nico and Esté, who in much the same way welcomed us like long last family (which they are given it’s been also 15 years since Anton last saw Nico), who also welcomed us into their home and drove us around the wet wine country of the Cape, and nourished us with home-fired pizzas and we sat and listened to our children play cards as if their life depended on it, as if they had known each other since birth. Again, it’s a reflection of our parenting styles.
Cape Town will always be there. We returned to the dusty highveld from our little trip in lush wintery (and green) province and I was sad that it wasn’t what I had hoped for. The thing is, we get to come back someday (thank you to S and also C for reminding me of this). We can still make memories and redo, of this I am certain. Next time it will be different.
As we enter week 4 of our trip, I am finishing this from my old home (having started it on the return plane trip), surrounded by everything that is familiar despite the decades that have passed since I moved away. Reflection runs deep as always, but I’ll save that for another day. I’m not sure I should spam photos here in on my FB account. Perhaps some occasional ‘realistic’ photos are required: it appears that most of my friends and family are wholly shocked at Anton’s mobility. I’ve not actually deceived anyone over the last 4 months, and simply been optimistic, but the reality is, Anton can’t walk with the comfort and ease of most of us. It’s been rough for some people to acknowledge. I want to apologise to anyone if I’ve not been blunt.
That’s me for now ☺️. Time for lunch prep and an afternoon nap, because what else is farm-life for when you’re on holiday?
Also, wish us Godspeed as A kicks off his next chemotherapy session. Once again it’s an oral treatment. So far we’re 5 hours in…. Stay tuned for updates 🙂
Love,
G
Xx
Pinot, Bretzels, and Cathedrals 