One of the many hotels in Cape Town

Yes, hotels in Cape Town trump or can compete with any of the world’s best hotels. Western Cape has so many options in terms of luxurious hotels and safari lodges, but here in Cape Town we can beat any hotel on earth. What on earth makes me say this? Haven’t I heard of the Ritz in New York City or the Langham in London? But did you know that most of the world’s best hotels are actually to be found right here in Cape Town and the rest of the province? When last could you see wild buffalo roaming outside the Imperial Hotel in Tokyo? I bet you that you can’t get the same sense of friendliness in the Trump Towers hotels that you can get in a Cape Town hotel!

If luxury with a sense of hospitality is what you are after, you need to come to Cape Town. There is no other place in the world that can offer you renowned African hospitality like we can in our hotels. Western Cape hotels are not only stunning, but there is an option for every price bracket. From Lizwe’s Guest House in Guguletu (where you find the best township atmosphere and cooking that money can buy), to the Twelve Apostles Hotel and Spa just off Chapman’s Peak (this is really the height of discerning quality), Cape Town hotels can’t be beaten.

If a view of the sea is your thing, why not try the Table Bay hotel, which overlooks the harbour and has ample space for swinging cats, swinging your newly-wedded partner or just swinging yourself around in the fantastically decorated rooms.

So when considering a holiday, don’t pick a fancy but dull hotel in another bland city, come to a Cape Town hotel. Western Cape hotels can’t be beaten!

sand, sun and cold winds

I’m on my way now, out of Mykonos and on the road again to my Cape Town home. Judis mother surprised us both with an impromptu holiday during friday afternoon. This was no mere cheap Cape Town accomodation either er. Mykonos is roughly 110 kms outside of the city center and prides itself on being a tiny, untouched seaside village. These days however, the modern touch of housing development has obviously turned it into a tiny toursit trap.

After the long ride, we unpacked our clothes onto our comfy double bed (Judis mom had kindly taken the two single beds) andprepared our clothes for dinner. the first meal of our vacation would be a delicious buffet which had the duel effect of being very tasty and very damaging to our digestives systems.

The rest of the trip comprised of swimming, tanning and meeting up with Judi’s cousins. It was a most fantastic time. Much alcohol was consumed and I even managed to squeeze some gym time in. Mykonos is a dinosaur, but an entertaining diversion from the woes of everyday life. If only the swimming pool had been cleaner…

The power to move you.

More often then not, we crawl out of bed early in the morning, dreading the onslaught of the day ahead. Dragging a smoke to your stained lips or pulling your jeans over a tightly bulging stomach is the only exercise any of us receive. It is infantile of us to presume that by sitting at our desks all day we are staying healthy. Yet sticking to an exercise regime is a hard job, and a task that many shrug aside after their first week or month of training. I started again this morning. At the crack of dawn [6:35am] my girlfriend’s alarm woke me from perpetual slumber, shifting my consciousness back to the real world. Five minutes later we ascended the elevator and made our way upwards to the 17th floor. The sun had already begun to tear the dusk apart and as the sky turned from a smoky grey into a plummy hue, we begun our workout.

Some jock once explained to me that every day away from the gym equates to a week of no exercise. That means I haven’t been to gym all year. I remember the treadmill and like an old friend, I clambered onto its leathery back and begun the 10 minute jog into nowhere. My effervescent girlfriend was darting up stairs and attacking the purple yoga ball thing with a zealous aggression that made my spot-jogging seem like an aggressively silly behaviour. Stuff that. I ran. I ran on and on and on until the infinite 10 minute boundary shut the machine off.

My favourite form of exercise is the free weight system. Yourself and the hand-weights. Plus the freedom to break down the tissue in your muscles accordingly. Usually, I incorporate the free weights at then end of my session, really to punish myself. My girlfriend, ever the bundle of uncontrolled energy, carried on with her regime in the background. Rep after rep, I battled with 6kg bars in each hand. Tired muscles tore under the strain, firing on all pistons to keep my arms moving up and down in smooth, successive motions.

My generator ran out of steam after my 30 sit ups. Thankfully it was also 7:10am, time to shower and dress for the daily grind. As we lazily strolled back into our apartment, I smiled and collapsed onto my bed, safe in the knowledge that I had added precious minutes to my life. I switched on my laptop and the online shopping website pop-ups displayed a machine that creates abs. Foolish. The only way to do it is the manual way. The shower beckons.