Why Cape Town Feels Like Home: A Personal Journey

Once again, I’m back in Cape Town. This beautiful city is starting to feel like a second home — and I have to laugh at myself for that. This is my tenth time here. It started in 2014 on a kitesurfing holiday, same again in 2015, then in 2016 I spent three months travelling independently right across the country. It was wild, and more importantly, it showed me there was far more to South Africa than most people see.

Cape Town specifically does something to me. The diversity of activities packed into a relatively small area, set against immense natural beauty — it ticks a lot of boxes.

But there’s something else too. A vibrancy I don’t pick up elsewhere. A sense that things get done, with or without permission. Yes, there’s well-known crime and poverty, and ridiculous pockets of wealth sitting alongside it. A complicated history, a mixed present, an uncertain future. And yet people make it work. There’s a resourcefulness here, an entrepreneurial spirit, that I find quietly compelling.

Which brings me back to that tenth visit. In 2016, I was a year into my new life after leaving a long corporate career — exploring options, following ideas. I’d just qualified as an international kitesurfing instructor and was freelancing on the south coast of England at a school in Poole Harbour, using Sandbanks as a teaching beach. Not bad, as it goes.

I remember a conversation with the owner about Cape Town. He was heading back for his tenth time. I won’t pretend otherwise — I judged him hard. Why return to the same place when the whole world is open? He just laughed and said he’d been to Barbados the year before, it was nice, but it wasn’t Cape Town. I didn’t get it. I had places to see, things to tick off. You know how it goes.

In the years that followed I visited Nepal and India, saved hard, drove more of Europe in my camper van, then got deeper into the landscaping business. The Covid years took over. Cape Town fell off the calendar, and I missed it more than I expected.

Maybe I’m getting older. Maybe more settled. But there’s something quietly satisfying about returning somewhere you genuinely love, rather than chasing the next new thing. A friend in the Midlands compared it to her connection with the Peak District. I’m fond of the Peaks, but I’m not sure that’s an equal comparison — though what does hold true is the idea of a place that gets under your skin for reasons you can’t always explain.

For me it’s the kitesurfing, the wild nature, the dancing, the weather, and the friends I’ve built here over the years. It gets harder to leave each time. That’s starting to outweigh the pull of solo adventures in new places — and I say that as someone who knows he’s not done with travel.

But the facts are the facts. I am now, without question, the man I laughed at ten years ago.