Day 11: Sunday 8 July

Storms again today. The locals call this wind The Cape Doctor as they say it blows all the germs and pollution away from Cape Town.

Sought refuge in the cinema at the Waterfront (Memento), then to the large Red Shed crafts building, while the rain hammered on the corrugated iron roof overhead. Outside the gale-force winds blew the sea into a frenzy. It was storms like this that sent many an ill-fated vessel off the Cape to Davy Jones' Locker - 1500 at the last count.

Amazed at the number of German-speaking tourists I came across.

The Fish Market Restaurant and Sushi Bar had a display of its wares, Mediterranean-style, at the entrance. The little Sushi conveyor belt ran around the bar. The meal--fish soup, large glass of chardonnay, hake, chips, veg and a pint of lager--was great value at only R60 (IRL£7)!

Back at the hotel I chatted with the receptionist about the state of the city. "Cape Flats" seems to conjure up images of lawlessness and apathy. "Camps Bay" is an area opulence and privilege, reserved for a particular race. There is a growing housing backlog of 220 000 units, a city where blacks are still earning five times less than whites, a city striving for world-class status, yet still grappling with the unequal distribution of wealth, of land and of opportunities. A city where, because of homelessness, crime and other social evils, white suburbia is finally starting to realise that what happens in traditionally black and coloured areas actually affects their own lives. What does the future hold?