You can tell how romantic our sundowners were, beneath the patio trees, drinking bubbly, munching on snacks, wearing Santa hats Clare brought from London that sparkled Season's Greetings.
Clare decorated us all in glow bangles and glow necklaces, appropriately festive for dinner of gammon, ostrich balls, sauces, veggies and an aubergine salad.
Good wine, food and lots of laughs. Merry Christmas to all!
Two Christmas Eve baboon stories.
Billy and Breda told us that during the lead up to Christmas, to escape the shopping frenzy, they decided to be good Irish tourists and drive to the tip of the Peninsula, Cape Point, in the Cape of Good Hope Nature Reserve.
They parked in an advantageous position and rolled down the windows of their car to admire the broad canvas of fynbos and sea. Soon a baboon strolled up; "how adorable" they thought until it showed great determination to climb into the car through the open window.
Lots of scuffling and shoo-ing away ensued and finally the window was up, the excitement was over, and they were alone in the car. Or so they thought. A movement behind them caught their attention and would you believe: during the struggle with the young fellow at the window, an enormous baboon had calmly opened the back door and sat himself down in the middle of the back seat, patiently waiting for his turn to engage with these visitors to his domain. Breda was sure he was pleading with her in Irish, but Billy would have none of it and yelled some strong Irish verbiage, frightening it out of the car.
They were lucky they had no food in the car because the baboons would not have left if there had been anything to eat.
The second baboon story.
Pieter has a cottage in Smitswinkelsbaai, a tiny community near Cape Point that has no road access. The only way to get to your cottage is down a steep hill, carrying all your provisions. On this occasion Pieter was making his way back home, up the hill to his car. As he crested the rise he noticed a tourist bus returning to the city, 65 km away. On top of the bus, above the driver's cab, sat a huge baboon, hanging onto the slim railing, the air rushing past his fur, looking like a beautiful brunette in an open sports car, hair flying, mouth wide, lips bared, revealing the pleasure of being at one with the elements.
Pieter, weighed down by his rucksack, rushed forward to alert the driver, arms waving. The more vigorous Pieter's waves became, the more he aroused the attention of the Japanese tourists who waved back at him with great enthusiasm. Some stood up in the bus with cameras aimed. "What a nice friendly local, let's take him home with us!" The driver, oblivious to all the commotion, headed north, to Cape Town, along the False Bay coastline.
What, we wondered, happened to the baboon? Was this the regular way the baboon population caught a lift up the Peninsula hopping off at the first or second or third traffic light?
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