With the unlikely combination of mixing people’s love for swimming pools with the need for a sense of wonder – I bring you some of the most astonishing swimming pools  around.

SkyPark Swimming Pool (above picture)

Now we’re talking! Meet the Infinity pool that towers over the city of Singapore by a whopping 55 storeys and makes mothers with water baby children cry in their sleep every night. Located atop the renowned SkyPark resort facility in Singapore, this particular pool holds the world record for size in terms of pools that have been constructed at a similar altitude. The entire resort cost around four billion dollars to build but at least they didn’t skimp on safety. The pool has a catch area that should prevent people who didn’t believe Newton’s theory on gravity and decided to swim off the edge, from taking the plunge.

Kandalama Hotel Infinity pool

Those Infinity pools really know how to make an impression on a person and this one is no exception, except that it’s overlooking the stunning Kandalama Lake. Architect Geoffrey Bawa certainly had this in mind when he put his plans together, as the whole thing is designed to make you feel as though you’re actually taking a plunge into the actual lake below. What’s more, they’ve even got some guy walking over the wooden decking above playing the flute over there which is just dandy. So, if you feel like pretending you’re in a lake while being in a pool and being serenaded by the Pied Piper – then you’re in luck!

La Hague corporate pool

Arguably the best swimming pool in the whole world, this Olympic sized aquatic playground will instantaneously kill you and then cause you to sprout five extra arms and a dorsal fin. Confused? Well the reason the water looks so blue and lovely isn’t because of clever lighting tricks but rather due to intense radiation known as Cherenkov radiation – which develops from a particle travelling through a medium faster than the speed of light. What you’re actually looking at there is the new French answer to nuclear waste storage and so far it looks pretty damn clever, just – maybe refrain from dropping any turtles with latent ninja skills in it.

Medjumbe Private Island, Mozambique – Situated on one of the secluded islands which compose the Quirimbas Archipelago, the Medjumbe Island is host to excellent accommodation and displays nothing but stark beauty in all directions. Renowned for their succulent seafood dishes and coral reefs this private island has a great deal to offer.

Baobab Beach Resort, Diani Beach, Kenya – Fed by the warm Indian Ocean the Baobab Beach Resort is home to 80 acres of tropical gardens. Known for its restive atmosphere, it offers excellent accommodation and over 500 meters of golden beach.

Mnemba Island, Zanzibar – Just off the eastern coast of Zanzibar this beautiful private island is 4.5 kilometres of perfection. Bounded by coral reefs and romantic backdrops this is one exclusive location no one should miss out on.

Zimbali, KwaZulu-Natal – This is a 700 hectare stretch of prime coastal land which features some of the most stunning indigenous fauna and flora available. Its name translates from the Zulu as ‘Valley of Flowers’ and it’s apt indeed.

Camps Bay Beach, Cape Town – The Mother City’s foremost beach is a long sandy stretch surrounded by staggering views and a great deal of energetic water sports. The beach is host to restaurants and celebrities, beach vendors and sun bathers, and is a finer point of a holiday in South Africa.

LeMuria Resort, Seychelles – Also known as the ‘Lost Paradise’ Lemuria is a big part of the reason that Seychelles is as celebrated as it is. The white sandy beaches of Anse Kerlan and the one of a kind level of tranquillity found here make this one of the most important beaches to visit when you decide to travel Africa.

Down here in Cape Town, it seems that the infamous February heat is here to stay. It is this time of the year that I give up on pretending that being female means you that don’t sweat. Not the best time for a Cape Town tour. You want the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth? We delicate little creatures, we well-brought up ladies, we do sweat, a LOT.

Which is why leaving the house on a day when the mercury is set to rise to 42 degrees centigrade is not at the top of my list of priorities. There are only a few select reasons why I would even think of crossing the threshold on a day like this – natural disasters, an inviting swimming pool and family members in mortal peril number amongst these; as does registering to vote in the upcoming election.

I had foolishly left my registration for (possibly) the hottest day of the year. Not going was obviously not an option, so I was forced to get up from in front of my industrial strength fan and make my way down to the relevant registration station with the rest of the fools that didn’t yet have that reassuring little bar-coded sticker on the inside of their green identity documents.

I believe in giving credit where it is due and I have to applaud the Electoral Commission for making registration as easy and painless as it was. No queues, no unnecessary paperwork – just polite efficiency. (Granted, when I got outside my car had been decorated with a few COPE stickers but since these came off with relatively little effort I wasn’t too upset.) So now I am officially registered to vote in the upcoming election, which gives me the full right to criticize any halfwit decisions our government may make in the next four years.

Those of you who didn’t register, however, won’t have that luxury. You will have to sit quietly in your little corner keeping mum about corruption, mismanagement and general apathy at the hands of our future leaders. The only way that we will ever get our beautiful country to function to its full potential is to get involved, and registering to vote is the first little baby step in the right direction (even if you run the risk of getting vicarious sunburn just by heading out the door).

The time has come to stop moaning and get actively involved. Stand up and be counted – if we don’t care enough to make this country work, why should anyone else bother?

The heat is also on in other sections of my life, namely eBay. This popular site has suckered another wheeler and dealer in, and I am glad to be a part of its madness. Oh, the deals I have made. They are so delicious. I have a craving for tiny toy rabbits called Dunny’s and they are so evenly priced on the bay of E. In Cape Town, you can expect to pay upwards of R140 for a Dunny. On eBay, that price is half or less. I have spent hours just staring at the final seconds of an auction, praying that I am will be the winning bidder. How did it ever get this bad? My addiction is tantamount to frenzy. And I hope it never ends.

It’s hot. I’m not talking slightly balmy, I’m talking start sweating when you wake up and don’t stop until ten o’clock tonight-hot. Jip, the dreaded February heat is upon us and there is not much we can do about it except hide inside air-conditioned buildings.

On the plus side, it’s good for the grapes. At this very moment, every single winery, cellar and distillery in the Cape Winelands is abuzz with activity. Cellar lackeys are running around, dragging great big pressure pumps, stacking French Oak vats and scrubbing sorting tables to within an inch of their lives. Winemakers and administrators, on the other hand, are nervously stomping around the cellar, barking orders and generally being aggressively nervous about the state of the grapes. If they come in too slowly it means that there is something wrong with the harvest, it they come in too fast the cellar’s infrastructure won’t be able to handle it – and God forbid they come in at exactly the right tempo, then it’s just the calm before the storm and something BIG is about to go wrong.

Such is the life of a winemaker in the South African wine industry. As we all gear up for the big showdown that is the harvest, winemakers around the country are getting ready for 16 hour workdays. My father loses an average of 10kg’s each year during harvest time (which he gleefully gains back throughout the rest of the year, of course). Whether this is due to working such long hours or because he’s nervous about the state of the grapes or simply because he has to deal with the divergent opinions of 12 obstinate wine farmers, I don’t really know – suffice it to say I’m getting ready to only see my dad again in April.

But I digress. Back to the heat and why it is good for the grapes. See, the thing is, a grape’s ‘skin’ is porous, which means it can absorb things (especially water). Thus, if it should start raining now, all those lovely bunches of sun-ripened grapes that have been hard at work photosynthesizing the whole bloody summer will absorb the water through their skins and burst – which makes it effectively useless for human consumption OR winemaking. A sad state of affairs really.

So, today’s lesson is: embrace the heat. If it weren’t this hot now, then the harvest would be a disaster and in two years’ time you would have been paying through your ears for lackluster wine. Next time you go on a Cape Town tour or book accommodation in the Winelands for a weekend away, take the time to look around you. Those vineyards don’t just happen to trellis, prune and irrigate themselves; those tidy little rows of grape-bearing plants are the result of backbreaking work at the hands of viticulturists, soil scientists, farmers and farm workers. So uncork a bottle of lovely Chenin Blanc (I recommend the Riebeek Cellars Reserve Chenin, of course) and propose a toast to all the hardworking people that are the cogs in the great South African winemaking machine. Tjorts!

Capital of the gorgeous and stylish

Cape Town is the beauty capital of South Africa. The ratio of models sashaying down the streets, nibbling morsels of sushi in restaurants and frolicking in their natural habitats (shopping malls),far outnumbers the amount of us mere mortals, dawdling by to work, dragging our feet and squeezing past each other at the mall or vegetating on the beach, as was the case during the last public holiday.

In general, Camps Bay is the playground of the beautiful. It holds the highest concentration of designer label clad, dark glowing skins and suspiciously perfect bodies. It’s as if the “aesthetically disadvantaged” are either denied access or allowed onto the beach, only to serve as fine examples of what could go wrong, it’s like a sweet shop that specialises only in eye-candy.

Once you’ve secured a prime spot on the beach, hired your umbrella plus deck chair and have lathered up a copious amount of sun screen, sit back and take in the 360° view of magnificence. Take a peek or if you’re more brazen, gawk at the faultlessly shaped bottom of the person lying spread eagled alongside you, marvel at the constructive invention that is the Speedo- a choice preference adorned by the European tourist male who is a member of the “flaunt what your momma gave you” brigade. Be captivated at the team of bikini clad ladies and topless guys battling over what could very well be the title of “Who’s hotter than whom” in a round of beach volley ball. For the guys, a round of “spot the faux boobs” will have you captivated. Cape Town is also the home of plastic surgery and foreigners arrive in droves to capitalize on the Rand and the affordable cosmetic surgery it affords them.

Then there’s of course the view of Table Mountain lining the sky, the breathtaking blue sky and the gleaming view of the ocean that stretches for miles as the backdrop to the scene of perfection. Cape Town sunsets are world renowned because the sun can set as late as 8:30pm and so beaches such as Camps Bay, understandably become paradigms of fun in the sun.

Just one word of caution, knee- deep is about as far as to dip into the ocean. Unlike most beaches, Camps Bay is not ideal for swimming, well not unless you’re an Eskimo.

try climbing that.

The first time I arrived at the mother city, I went on many Cape Town tours around the city. First on my list was to see the renowned table cloth hanging over the illustrious pride of Cape Town…Table Mountain. Those in the know…scientists to be precise, explain the table cloth that often hangs over the mountain as the result due to the moisture-laden south-Easter that blows against Table Mountain from over False Bay. At a height of approximately 900 meters, the winds reach the colder layers of air and then thick clouds form. These clouds roll over the mountain and down towards the City Bowl. When the clouds reach the warmer, lower air layers and dissolve once more, the unmistakable table cloth forms. I sat and marveled in silence at the magical sight before me. Some minutes later, I ventured over to view the lions face on the equally popular Lion’s Head.

My definition of frustration was redefined because as intent as I was on seeing the proverbial lion on the other portion of the mountain, I just could not see it!

Let it also be known that as a youngster in the company of other youngsters who constantly oohed and aahed at the 3D pictures that came free with moms purchase of the YOU magazine, I was similarly vexed when I could not see the “flower” or whatever object that I was meant to see. To this very day, I still cannot see the “dolphins swimming in a circle” in that chain email picture of a man and a woman hugging affectionately. Nor can I see the image of the young lady within the image of an aging woman. Despite my friend/tour guide’s mild insistence, patient and then impatient directions of “Just relax, close your eyes and then open them again, you’ll see it”. I scratched off Lion’s Head as one of those things because I simply could not see it.
A few weeks later as a Capetonian and no longer a tourist, I was flat hunting in a suburb alongside Lions Head. Walking up towards the address of the flat, it formed before my eyes in a way only fitting of unexpected things. I, all of a sudden, saw the face of the lion on Lions Head! It was crouched up in all its glory, just as everyone else had described it. My delight in finally seeing it came out in the form of a chuckle and then a squeal that must have surely been interpreted as either drunk or high behavior, judging by the look the madam driving into her drive way, shot at me.

I am now a resident at the said flat. Elsewhere in South Africa, many others will drive off from their Tuscan villa inspired townhouse/flat , facing hundreds of rows of other “villas” that stretch as far as the eye can see. I on the other hand, will delight in the beauty and splendour of Cape Town’s most famous landmarks (Table Mountain, Lion’s Head and Signal Hill) that are situated practically at my door step.

• The walls are not real, they are merely cardboard and that is a sad fact
• The Kitchens are tiny and this is coming from a ‘two-roomed’ apartment
• The Bathroom has started to develop some sort of frightening rot
• the upstairs gym is a shambles
• Security is a laff
• Moan, moan, moan

Anything ‘spring’ to mind?

Spring is most definitely in the air in Cape Town. When I got up this morning a small fragrant breeze was teasing my curtains and the crisp promise of a beautiful day was already hovering on the horizon. The perfect day to call in sick to work and set off on a Cape Town tour. But, alas, money buys the whiskey and it wouldn’t do to bite the hand that feeds. It’s the kind of day that makes you realise all over again why we stick it out in a country that is riddled with crime, is grossly mismanaged and squandering its resources. The truth of the matter is what we lack in infrastructure and economic maturity we make up for in great natural beauty. Poor trade-off? I guess you could see it that way, but let’s not spoil a perfectly lovely day by being all pessimistic now.

Back to the matter at hand – spring time. While there is much to be said for this most gentle of seasons, it is also important to report that it is also the Official Season of Break-ups. Ask around and I’ll bet you’ll be surprised at how many relationships go up in flames as soon as that hay fever inducing blossoms start peeking out their charming little heads. Granted, I haven’t actually done a clinical study on the subject but I have been subjected to quite a few post-breakup conciliatory drinking sessions and I can tell you it’s not pretty. Many of my friends and acquaintances have also noticed this alarming trend and many hours have been spent discussing the phenomenon. (We’ve even come up with a name for the people that abandon their relationships in spring time: Spring Chickens. Get it? Ha, kinda lame, I know, but what can you do?)

The main question is, why? Were we genetically engineered in such a way that we feel the need to be free to pursue multiple mates in spring time? Does it have something to do with the rotation of the earth, the pull of the tides or a shift in gravitational force? Or do we simply get antsy as soon as our counterparts start bearing more flesh?

There is no way to be completely sure. As with every social hypothesis this one has many a gaping hole, but it does make for very interesting dinner conversation that somehow always tend to veer in the direction of mini-skirts and the moral dilemma it represents for most hot-blooded males.

With that said, it looks as though Capetonians can now officially abandon their heavy jackets, scarfs and mittens to the back of the closet. Spring is most definitely sprung. Why not celebrate our escape from the icy grip of winter with a nice cocktail. Here’s a recipe that’s tasty, quick and surprisingly easy to whip up:

Mandatory Cocktail:

1 1/2 ounces Amaretto Disaronna
1 ounce simple syrup (dissolve an equal amount of sugar in water)
3/4 ounce fresh lemon juice

Shake all the ingredients well with ice and strain into a rocks glass filled with ice. Garnish with an orange slice and a cherry.
See, easy as pie. Enjoy.