South Africans call it the Mother City. I call it a mixed bag. With an almost perfect climate, it has natural beauties galore. Its beachfront hills are home to some of the most amazing modern architecture I’ve ever seen—but a short drive away are communities of indescribable poverty. And everywhere you feel the unmistakable echoes of apartheid.
The juxtapositions are thought-provoking, and all the more memorable for that. Am I glad we went? A hundred times yes. Would I go back? A qualified yes. Do I feel guilty for not loving it just the way it is? Sort of, especially when my South African friends ask how it was.