It has been difficult to put my finger on what specifically it is that made staying at Cape Town‘s The Backpack so remarkable and preferable to staying at a hotel in the city, but I have.
The Backpack has the heart, personal warmth and excitement of a traditional backpackers, but without the rowdy music and roughness. You are more likely to bump into people doing an overland Cape to Cairo trip, or thoughtful and interesting travellers. You can arrive alone and within minutes of sitting down for a beer or a coffee, be sharing travelling adventures and tips. If I was down on business in Cape Town and I had to choose between The Backpack and a hotel, I would definitely choose The Backpack. It is the perfect antidote to any midlife crisis and the only risk you run is the very real one of being surrounded by intrepid travellers and feeling that you need to go out and buy a Land Rover.
But it was something more. It wasn’t that they are Fair Trade in Tourism accredited, or the large number of projects that they support. It wasn’t the half a million rand that they raised in 2010, or the R350, 000 rand that they have raised so far this year. It was more personal than that.
Here is my best stab at what I have found so difficult and intangible to define. Very simply it is this.
When you wake up and step out of The Backpackers in the morning. You walk through the gate and onto the street and it doesn’t feel as though you are entering a different place. It feels as though you are leaving somewhere authentic. It feels as though you have stayed true to the essence of the city.
If you walk out of a hotel in the city, you generally walk out of their foyer feeling very much like a visitor, like a tourist. But here is the thing about walking out of The Backpack in the morning:
You feel like you belong. There isn’t a barrier between inside and outside. And this is why I think this is.
The Backpack is completely authentically Cape Town on the inside.
And here is what else was amazing about staying there. I was right in the heart of the city. I made a point of leaving early for my destination so that I had plenty of time to walk there, with time for a cup of tea along the way.
It was a wonderful crisp, blue-sky winter morning. I headed down towards Greenmarket Square and St George’s Cathedral. It was wonderful being a tourist in my own city. The mountain looked spectacular and the coffee shops and cafés gently wafted out the tempting aroma of roasted coffee beans.
Was that really the same bookseller at his stall that I used to walk past as a student 25 years ago? His biceps have sagged slightly and his tattoos were drooping, but it was definitely him. I wandered quietly around the early morning bustle enjoying every cherished midlife crisis minute of it. With a silly little smile on my face I kept wanting to run up to other tourists and tug at the sleeves and say, ‘I live here you know, I used to walk around here a lot when I was a student’ (in paisley shirts, tie die shorts and with big hair).
And while wondering through the stalls and the traffic and smells, and nodding knowing greetings at the waiting taxi drivers, I turned up a little cobbled alley and heard the soothing sound of soft classical music. And there it was – Café Mozart. A handful of tables scattered outside amongst the stalls. And that was far enough for me. I had the nicest cup of Rooibos tea I have ever tasted, sitting in that alley. I watched men with long hair in ponytails, wearing sleeveless leather jackets, selling knick knacks. Mozart’s even had warm rugs folded neatly over the back of each chair. Admittedly I didn’t need one, but it was really nice of them to think of me.
And then later, after my tea and bit of wandering around and a big lunch, I had the pleasure of walking home. I still felt like a tourist, just better fed, warmer and slightly sleepier. And so I ambled home to The Backpack for an afternoon nap. For the record you really do pass a Land Rover store along the way.
I couldn’t have done any of this if I had stayed in a hotel, no matter how luxurious. In fact, the more luxurious the more difficult it would have been to leave its artificial interior.
No, I stayed at the perfect place to experience Cape Town.
My sage advice is this. The next time you are in Cape Town and looking for a place to stay, try The Backpack. Whether you are in your 20s or your 70s, if you like a bit of colour or if you ever use the words: Landy, or bino’s, or Twitcher. If you can tell a Blesbok from a Bontebok, if you read Getaway, or if you can very simply tell the difference between authentic and artificial, then forget booking into a hotel – Look up The Backpack and savour the experience of Cape Town.
For more information on these or other Fair Trade Tourism adventures, visit the FTTSA website, or join FTTSA on Facebook.
Contact
The Backpack and Africa Travel Centre
Tel 021 4234530
Web www.backpackers.co.za
Café Mozart
Tel 0861-623-263
Web www.themozart.co.za
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