More From Cape Town: A Tour Guide Expounds...

The photo above is from a key-changing/gate-opening ceremony at the old town palace in Cape Town. The men in the photos are descendants of folks who probably never imagined themselves in feathered hats setting off cannons the size of children's toys for sweaty American tourists. All in all, a very "Indochine/Wah-Wah" post-colonial moment.

Afterwards, the rest of the tour was set loose to explore the porcelain collection. I relaxed on the patio with our white tour guide - the type you'd see in the local Indiana Jones expatriate bar kicking back moonshine at 10 a.m. - and a fellow U.S. tourist, a very poised African-American woman on vacation from work with a Manhattan finance firm.

Tour Guide: How has your service been at your hotels?

NYC and me (in unison, sipping diet Coke): Good!

TG: No sullenness?

NYC/me (now a bit confused): No...everyone has been very gracious.

TG: A lot of people don't want to work in this country. That's why we have immigrants. They come from the worst conditions in Africa and appreciate the opportunity they have here. Not like the people who live here - they always demand more and more and do as little as they have to. They're ruining the tourism industry. You have problems with immigration in your country, I've heard.

(I let NYC field that one.)

TG: I've heard that the Blacks in the United States who are successful are seen as Uncle Toms.

NYC (chokes delicately on her diet Coke): Uncle...Toms?

TG: They're seen as selling out to the white man.

NYC: Well, maybe twenty years ago. But today it's different. There are successful African Americans in all walks of life.

TG: (quiet, either contemplatory or half drunk)

ME: (quiet, wondering what the @#$%^ will come up next)

ME (belatedly): There's Oprah. Oprah's the richest woman in the United States. (I smile, proud of my contribution until I start to question myself and wonder if Martha Stewart's richer. Should I add Chris Rock and Puff Daddy? I wonder.)

TG: Mmmm, there's Oprah.

NYC (making the natural segue to Nelson Mandela): "I've been meaning to read Nelson Mandela's biography. Have you read it yet?"

TG: Honestly, I found it a little boring. Talk about the LONG walk to freedom. After page 200, I thought, "Aren't you ever going to get there?" I have a better suggestion.

His recommendation: a book about a dog trained for combat. Unfortunately, before he could give us the title, the rest of the tour group returned from the porcelain collection.

Downtown Cape Town: The Freedom to Take a Long Walk Around
Walking around downtown DC and my neighborhood in the days since I've been back, I realized one of many things I appreciate and love about my current home is its relative safety. Even after midnight, even dressed up, I can usually stroll a few blocks from Metro to home without fear, just a common-sense level of caution.

Not everywhere in the world can one do this. The photo above is of a flower market in Cape Town a few blocks from my downtown hotel. Like all my city photos, it's taken in the daytime. The flower market packs up at dusk, as do most pedestrians.

Before I left, I was corresponding with some locals and a DC friend who'd traveled in South Africa about my plans to take the Cape Town City Metro train, rather than an organized day tour, to Simon's Town to see the penguins. Lonely Planet had said it was safe.

"You CANNOT take the train."

WHAT? I thought. It's a metro train. The penguins are going to mug me?

My local friends expounded: On the train, commuters are often held up by random and robbed. Occasionally one is thrown from the train. Even the walk to and from the station can be sketchy - the city recently announced a program in which one can be escorted these few blocks.

I thought the crime rumors might be overstated. International visitors often think the U.S. is dangerous because we're all allowed to carry guns, and the news always goes nuts during the freak occasions when we shoot each other up. "No, really - this DOESN'T happen every day" I'd assure them.

But crime was definitely an every day issue in South Africa. Every house and business was distinguished by a big ADT sign and barbed wire atop a tall fence. Sometimes you could peep through the iron bars and wire to see a ferocious wolf-dog guarding the driveway. And every tour guide who drove by the metro station and its tourist-tempting flea market gave a stern warning: "Don't go there!"

"Arghhhh," I eloquently reflected one night at the hotel bar. I thought of the great neighborhoods with art galleries and cafes our minivan passed earlier. If this were the U.S. or Europe, I'd be on foot, enjoying the great weather, taking a stroll around this beautiful city, dropping into a coffee house or jazz club.

But I figured out the taxi system and adapted. In the end, I remained safe and merely inconvenienced for several days, unlike the folks who live there and deal with an issue every day that makes it difficult to run a business, make a living, protect their homes and families and go about life as usual.

Here's a horrific crime story that was all over the news the night I arrived in the country.

Nelson Mandela wants you to click here.

South Africa: Cape Town Neighborhood Tour
We didn't get much farther than this scenic overlook for viewing the multi-million dollar beachfront, but we did spend a full morning walking around Langa Township, a place that more than one million people call home (give or take 250,000 - the latest figures don't account for immigrants flooding in from other African countries).

We started with Sunday services in a Southern Baptist church - and you can't get much more southern than 34 degrees lattitude below the equator. Once blessed for the day, we made a stop at the shebeen, then paid a visit to a 9' x 16' apartment that houses 3 families.

The township tours are relatively new, developed to give visitors a perspective of the country beyond the beaches, vineyards and safaris. Unlike many of the other daytrips, the guides are invariably black and often live in the neighborhoods through which they lead their groups. Our guide knew or was related to every other passerby on the street and pointed out his own house along the route. Without such accompaniment, no group would last long.

The value to the tourist is tremendous: A glimpse into life for 80 percent of the city's residents, including a sense of community so strong that many residents who join the middle class prefer not to move to the suburbs but rather buy or rent houses in the township's more gentrified areas.

But I've got to wonder: What did the locals think, having all these predominantly white foreigners tromp through their streets and invade their house of worship, snapping photos of their kids while surreptitiously clutching their moneybelts? Would I be as friendly and welcoming to a parade of complete strangers interrupting my Sunday morning, hiding their shock at my Ikea furniture as they observed me as they would a Discovery Channel documentary?

Look - the bagel she's eating is the size of her head! And check out that boring television programming - just people shouting back and forth. Doesn't she attend church? Perhaps she's a pagan - I hear they have these in Western countries - watch your wallet!