Annalog

Several weeks ago, the cable cars that carry passengers to and from the top of Table Mountain were taken down for maintenance. In the meantime, a number of my friends, eager to climb the mountain, have been deterred by the ominous task of having to climb up and then walk all the way back down. A couple have left Cape Town never having climbed Table Mountain. But now, the wait is over. Today, the second cable car is being reattached.

I drove out of the garage, past Rafikki’s and towards the base of the mountain. The view from the cable car station is spectacular. The mountain spread before me, looming and immovable. Behind me was the whole of Cape Town proper and the ocean. The water, like a mirror in the early morning sunlight, laps up on the shores of Blouberg Beach, gentling rocking the yachts in the habor at the waterfront.

I have gotten so used to living in this beautiful city. But in a mere month, when I’m back home in Berkeley—getting down to schoolwork, back to work at the office—Cape Town and this “summer” (winter?) will seem like a distant memory

Occasionally I’ll wonder what it looks like in Cape Town, whether or not friends will be going to Arnold’s or down to the waterfront to catch a movie. But, it’s so easy to get wrapped up in the tangible lives we are living that, before I know it, I will once again be consumed by life back home. My day-to-day work, assignments, life in Cape Town will be little more than distant memories.

In the late 1990s, Baz Luhrmann delivered a graduation speech set to music called “Everybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen).” In the song, one of the pieces of advice he tries to impart is: “Trust me, in 20 years you’ll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked.”