Oil and Water
It felt as if I were in France. Of course, I’ve never been to France, but gorgeous estate homes and rolling hills of grape vines is what I’ve imagined.
I wasn’t in France, though, I was in Constantia, the wine region of Cape Town. Massive oak trees sheltered each side of the road, hundreds of years old. Every 500 metres or so we’d pass a sign for this vineyard or that.
Wine making in Constantia began shortly after the Dutch arrived in the 1650s. Since then, the industry grew and shrunk and grew again. Miraculously, the vineyards remained largely family owned.
The endless variety of wine labels here isn’t a marketing scheme. It reflects the genuine diversity of families, estates, and styles producing millions of bottles a year. Were Cape Lodge not a dry house, I would buy a bottle for $8 or $12 (R50-80) and enjoy a glass with the amazing sunset. (If you’ d like, I’ll make some recommendations and you can head to Whole Foods and share the experience for $40 or $50 a bottle. The joys of import tariffs and sin taxes.)
The vineyards look like zen gardens with their rolling lines of vines. Driving through, we passed some horses then came upon the farm-house. Behind it were mountains, beside it the grapes. We were at Buitenverwachting vineyard. (No, I don’t know how to pronounce it.) Founded in 1796, this vineyard produces reds and whites and sells just over a million bottles a year.
The wine tasting was free, which surprised me. We were visiting, no intention of buying wine, and they wanted to give us free glasses of wine? Sure, I’ll take several. (Napoleon and Princess Diana ordered quite a few bottles, too. It’s world-renown wine.)
We tasted chardonnay, sauvignon blanc, cabernet sauvignon, and house blends. The coolest part, though, was talking to the hostess. Since it’s winter and tourists are sparse, it was just the four of us.
Vineyards in South Africa work much like plantations did in the South, except the workers are usually well paid and taken care of. We learned the hostess has lived on the vineyard for 30 years; she grew up there. Her children, too, live on the estates and go to its preschool. It’s certainly better off than a township. Odd to think both shack-ridden townships and grape-laden vineyards truly reflect South Africa.
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Our next stop was halfway up the mountain on a highway pulloff. After several kilometres of the cliff-hugging highway, we pulled off to the side. We had all of Cape Town Flats in view – the largest section of Cape Town not separated by mountains.
To our left was Constantia, full of vineyards and estates, including we one we just came from. Directly in front was the American embassy, quite a fortress. Beside it was the main prison (operating at 140% capacity). To the right was middle class housing, to the far left Cape Town’s prized Table Mountain. In the distance, beneath the factory smog and haze, was Khayelitsha, Cape Town’s largest township.
This one view provided a snapshot of society – the fruits of agriculture, the consequences of industry, the results of hatred, the masses of poor, the sparse elite, the civically refused.
We thought about the vineyard as we returned to the township. Quite the contrast. South Africa’s been a melting pot of oil and water for 300 years. We’re still waiting to see how well they mix.
