Cape Agulhas is full. If you are planning on coming, don’t bother. It’s full. Even Mary and Joseph would have been turned away. The stable has long since been converted into holiday flatlets and they’re full. All of them.
“Son of God? Nee, man. Been there done that. And did you really ride that donkey down from Bredasdorp? Ag, no wonder the traffic’s been so kak.”
It’s not that I don’t love Agulhas when it’s like this. I still like the place, but maybe just a little bit less than when I have the beaches to myself. There are impromptu brandy & coke parties attended by loud Afrikaners springing up all over the village in the holiday houses that only get used for a fortnight each year. The beagle is constantly being triggered (not in a SJW way) by the unusual noise and occasional raucous laughter as Oom Koos van Pretoria cracks another joke about the Stormers back line.
I’m still happy to be here. Still recognise that I’m very lucky to be here. But I can’t wait to experience this place again when the crowds have disappeared and there’s just me and the beagle on the beach once more.