Cape Town: Still Overpriced, But Now with Birds
Today’s story doesn’t come from Pilanesberg. Nor does it come with a fire crackling in the background, jackals yipping in the distance, or a leopard inconveniently disappearing just as I lift the camera. No, dear readers, today’s tale comes to you from an office. In urban Pretoria. Where there are no stars. Only fluorescent lighting and printers that sound like dying wildebeest. It’s punishment. I am being punished.
But let me tell you about something beautiful—a sentence I never thought I’d say while referencing Cape Town.
The Flat Mountain in Cape Town everyone freaks out about.
Now if you’ve read any of my previous scribblings (first of all, I’m sorry), you’ll know that I harbour a long-standing, deeply personal vendetta against the Mother City. My issues are well-documented. The people are insufferably trendy. The prices are made up. And the weather swings between suicidal and drunk.
Also—and this is important—Cape Town has no bush. No proper game reserves. No leopards. You can’t braai in the middle of a mountain without the park rangers calling it a fire hazard. And let’s be honest, the ocean’s so cold it feels like Poseidon himself is trying to murder you.
But—and here comes the plot twist—I now find myself kind of… possibly… maybe… liking it.
No, not because of the man buns and the artisanal beetroot kombucha. And definitely not because of the coastal snobbery or the weather’s inability to commit. No. It’s something else.
I was recently in Cape Town again—visiting the only person who lives there that doesn’t make me want to reenact the opening scene of Gladiator. And on one indecisive Sunday, after hours of “What do you want to do?” and “I don’t know, what do you want to do?” we decided—by some divine stroke of fate—to go to Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens.
Yes. A botanical garden. Me. In a garden. With plants. Voluntarily.
And let me tell you, it absolutely slapped.
I’ve never felt such betrayal. I came expecting lawn clippings and overpriced tea. I left spiritually unwell and deeply moved.
Birds—everywhere. Malachite sunbirds flashing emerald in the soft grey light. Cape sugarbirds flaunting those ridiculous tails. Batises, canaries, and many more sunbird species that should not legally be allowed to look that fabulous. It was a riot of feathers and flitting and I, idiotically, did not bring my camera.
Yes, I nearly wept into my overpriced takeaway cappuccino, which somehow tasted like both heartbreak and oat milk. But even with an iPhone, I managed to get footage of a double-collared sunbird that looked like it belonged on the cover of Vogue (bird edition).
Double Collared Sunbird – Taken with iPhone
You see, what I’d conveniently forgotten is that Cape Town’s miserable winter rain is actually the equivalent of summer in most other places. Plants are thriving. Everything is violently green. Birds are out like it’s carnival in Brazil. It’s their growing season—and it shows.
So now I’m planning my return. In July. With a camera. With purpose. Possibly with a vengeance. There are flamingos to find. Penguins to greet. Maybe even a pelagic trip if I’m feeling reckless. And obviously another lap around Kirstenbosch to try and reclaim the shots I missed because I was too busy judging everything.
So yes, this entire writeup is a love letter I never wanted to write. The kind you scribble with a broken pencil while angrily drinking rooibos and questioning your sense of identity.
To Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens.
A place I mocked. A city I detested. And now? I’ll give it an 11/10. It’s that good. The plant diversity is world-class, the birdlife is off the charts, and if you go with someone you like—even better. Though I suppose that last part is optional.
A statue of a cheetah inside the gardens – Atleast I saw a cat…
Anyway. I’m wrapping up this tragic week in Pretoria, sharpening my lens caps and getting ready to return to Pilanesberg where the leopards have been taunting me in my absence. Apparently, they’ve decided to be social while I’m gone. Classic.
Stay tuned for the next one.
Wildlife Beyond the Lens 