Wednesday, April 8, 2009

We woke up early and found a rainbow of anemones, a herd of bontebock, and a pool of micro-starfish. I don’t think I know the word for a group of starfish. I think "herd" is only for animals with legs. A collection of starfish? A galaxy? That would be funny. A stew? Again you had to be there.

On the way out of the park we saw a troop of baboons. At first it looked like two – but then the babies started dashing around and climbing off and on the adults. Fascinating watching them stop to eat, play, or give us an exploratory grunt. Ironically we worried about them. There were some people that were obviously stalking them – maybe from some rinkydink circus. Maybe trying to catch the babies as pets. Maybe they taste like chicken.

We continued down the cape all the way out to the southern tip. Surrounded by the ocean, the sky, perfect as the ocean always is. We parked way up by the Cape Point Light House. Lots of people do it – the parking lot is huge. Young men help you park and guard the car while you parade around like all the other tourists – eating ice cream and soda from the snack shop, taking the funicular up the mountain, taking in the view. There are car guards everywhere in Africa. It is a little sketchy and I don’t have convictions that most car guards do anything other than collect tips. However, here at the southwestern tip of Africa the car guards earn every rand. They carry sticks and ward off the lecherous gangs of baboons. The same fuzzy private animals that we saw rolling their babies in the grass.

Ok, they don’t earn every rand. The baboons have nothing better to do that wait for some unsuspecting eight-year-old to get her extra large strawberry milkshake from the concession stand. Baboon one will march out as a decoy. The car guard runs back and forth as the ape dodges in and out between the cars, watching the guard’s feet under the car and anticipating the next strike of the stick. Baboon two runs through the milling crowd, snatches the target’s drink, dashes through the brush and up into the trees where he drinks from the straw and scowls angrily at the awestruck tourists. Really. The crazy monster is angry – not into strawberry, I guess.

The robberies are generally successful. The victims are always panicked. The car guards are always miffed. The non-victim tourists gape and take photos.