We were told by other well-seasoned passengers aboard Serenity to make sure we got up early to see our arrival into Table Bay–– a port which rivals Sydney.

However, that morning we awoke to rain and fog; our first rainy day in two months and our first rainy day since we boarded Serenity back in Auckland, NZ. AlthoughTable Mountain was shrouded in clouds, my radar app indicated the sky would clear by 2PM and clear all through the next day–– our affirmed excursion to the Cape of Good Hope. With our cabin on the port side of the ship, facing Cape Town, we hoped to be treated to that view for the next day and a half.

By 10 AM we were cleared by immigration, then hopped on the shuttle, dropping us off at a nearby mall, which was perfect because we were both in need of a trim–– hair and not bodies. We fault Crystal Serenity for the not trim bodies. With our scheduled excursion not until the next day, we thought we would go off on our own, exploring the harbor after a haircut.

We were not ten feet into the mall when we spotted a salon, which not only took walk-ins but accommodated both of us at the same time. My stylist (Ray) gave me a dissertation of my hair showing me his hand drawn charts of the scalp’s epidermis and explained how clogged sweat glands can impede a healthy scalp. He suggested I opt for the salt scrub. Pausing, he left me with images of clogged sweat glands, so I said yes… Salt scrub it is.

I’m glad I took Ray’s advice because I had the most etherial head massage, my sweat glands receptive, my scalp rejuvenated by a lovely girl whose name I could not pronounce but meant, “gift”, who lowered me into a trance of which I never wanted to return.

So far on this cruise I have had my hair trimmed twice and both experiences were so outstanding, where the stylists are true artists at a fraction of what one would expect to pay in the states. I wanted to tell her she could make a fortune in the states just washing hair, but was reminded of our tour guide in the previous port (Mossel Bay) that said, “Beyond the mountain to your right is a beautiful hotel with views of the ocean, that you can not see from here.”

With stylish cuts, we strutted to the harbor , the sun welcoming everyone on this Saturday afternoon, people milling about, enjoying brunch, eating ice cream and the bars spilling over with cheer

We chatted with a deck hand on the super yacht, Cloudbreak, which looked like a dingy next to the bigger super yacht, Opera, which were both dwarfed by the bigger, bigger super yacht–Crystal Serenity… yes, let them eat cake!

We ducked into one shop where we spoke to a wire artist who I asked what the small disks were made of, because we had purchased an owl in Mossel Bay made the same way.

We were floored when he said the disks were Nespresso coffee pods, crushed under foot…. INGENOIUS! Save your Nespresso pods people, I will collect them on Tuesdays!

We walked along the harbor, taking in some outside dance routines by a group of performers doing cultural songs and dance. We entered shop after shop, with everything presented so beautifully.

There was a building dedicated to individual artists and shop owners, like a very upscale flea market selling everything from custom clothing (Meredith picked up a dress) to paintings, tribal masks, lamp shades made from Ostrich eggs and the list goes on and on and on.

This was the place to be–– views along the harbor, welcoming restaurants, bars–– almost too much to take in. We could have spent all day and night here.

The sun began to come out, but Table mountain remained under a sheet of clouds.

But the piece de résistance was entering the African Trading Port–three stories of the most incredible African craftsmanship we have ever seen. These are museum quality pieces, sculptures, fabrics, and other works of art–– old and new. Meredith had to drag me out by my newly scrubbed scalp!

Surprise! No dress in part I… you need to wait until Part II where two dresses will be featured. Stay tuned.

However, I will end this post with our ever joyful, charming and endearing butler, Engin.