Travel Weekly
By J. Robert Harris
May 12, 2025

Returning to South Africa after a 44-year gap to see how the country has evolved since apartheid, and personal reflections on the pros and cons of being born with insatiable curiosity.

A recent trip I took to South Africa wasn’t the first time curiosity had lured me there. When I went in 1981, apartheid was the law. Blacks had been stripped of their citizenship, and races were segregated into separate residential areas. Nonwhites were required to carry documents authorizing their presence in restricted areas. The laws and the government’s strict enforcement of them seemed beyond draconian to me.

What, I wondered then, would it be like to visit there as a tourist? A Black tourist?

Although I recognized the risks and possible ramifications of going there alone, my curiosity trumped my worries. I decided to go.

When I had applied for a visa in the early ’80s, the novelty of a Black man wanting to visit South Africa as a tourist was so unexpected that the New York consulate didn’t quite know what to do — they had to call Johannesburg for instructions.

The reality that I would be facing hit before the plane even left the ground at JFK: A white South African refused to sit next to me in first class. He ended up going to a seat back in coach, with shows of support from the other white people in first class. My visa and U.S. passport meant that I would not be subject to the restrictions that applied to Black South Africans, with one exception: A four-star restaurant could refuse to seat me. And indeed, I found some restaurants that could have been five-star but chose to have only four so they could discriminate. All in all, I spent two weeks touring the country, from the townships of Soweto in Johannesburg to a safari in Bophuthatswana. I also explored the wine country and went to Sun City.

My rental car was stopped by the police on several occasions, but my U.S. passport shielded me from apartheid’s heavy hand. Not surprisingly, however, I could see that the situation was dreadful for Black residents; most of the population was struggling. But despite their hardships, I still met people who believed that one day things would be better.

Recently, I found myself wanting to return to South Africa: 2024 marked the 30th anniversary of the country’s first universal suffrage general elections, and I wondered anew what it would be like to visit as a tourist and to see how things have progressed.

On the flight over — this time, my assigned seat was not an issue — I thought about the benefits and challenges of being born curious. I’ve learned that a curious mind can never rest. There are too many lessons to learn, too many things to see and do, too many questions that need answers. What you end up with is a life of incessant exploration and discovery. This can be frustrating because true curiosity never achieves closure. Or it can be fulfilling, for exactly the same reason.

Luxury rail from Pretoria to Cape Town

I wanted to go in true luxury on this visit, and Railbookers arranged for me to go by rail from Pretoria to Cape Town, but this time in the luxurious Rovos Rail carriages. Railbookers also booked my daily activities and accommodations.

My luxe experience started as soon as I arrived at O.R. Tambo Airport: When I went to retrieve my luggage, I was happy to see a guy holding a card with my name on it. Even better, he wasn’t driving a shuttle van, as I expected; instead, we rolled up to the Hotel 54, the award-winning Johannesburg icon, in a late-model BMW.

The property, instantly recognizable by its distinctive red bricks and tall columns, is modern in design but maintains a classic, elegant ambience, with a beautiful garden terrace on the fourth floor that offers city views in a tranquil space (and is a wonderful location for sunset cocktails).

Johannesburg has evolved into an interesting city of contradictions and charm, with a metropolitan sophistication contrasting, yet also complementing, the many local street vendors and informal spaza shops (spaza shops, often operating out of people’s homes, are South Africa’s answer to convenience stores). Although my time in “Jozi” was very limited, I decided to spend the full afternoon exploring the city’s Maboneng Precinct on foot, checking out the intriguing restaurants, shops, entertainment venues and art galleries. The street life was lively and inviting, with people of all ages and backgrounds filling the sidewalks. I had been cautioned about crime in Johannesburg, but the security in this area was very evident, and I had no problems.

I had arranged to meet a young guy named Bongani King to show me the ’hood. Born in Soweto, this dude was a true polymath: an artist, writer, vocalist, graphic designer, entrepreneur in the tourism sector and a street art connoisseur. We shared an interest in graffiti, so he showed me some of the more creative examples of wall art and introduced me to some of the artists. He was also a gifted street poet with an amazing ability to freestyle. He asked me to give him a word, and I said “peace.” He then did a spontaneous, 10-minute, nonstop, spoken-word riff on it.

Bongani wanted me to meet a friend of his, so we headed to an attractive cafe called the Living Room. Decorated with plants and natural greenery, it is a lush, serene rooftop terrace surrounded by panoramic views of Maboneng and beyond. There was a profound, tranquil beauty about this place, an environment that seamlessly integrates flora into an urban habitat. Bongani’s friend was the Living Room’s operating manager, a cordial and engaging man named Wonke Nqevu. Originally from Cape Town, Wonke studied hospitality management at the prestigious Cape Town Hotel School and is a chef and cookbook author with more than a decade of international culinary and hospitality experience in both South Africa and the U.S.

Maboneng means “a place of light” in Sotho, and to me, Wonke and Bongani represent a youthful, vibrant, enlightened generation of South Africans who are committed to bringing an uplifting, positive vibe to inner-city Johannesburg.

My next stop was Pretoria, popularly known as Jacaranda City, and these strikingly beautiful trees were everywhere, their gorgeous purple and blue flowers in full bloom. My quarters here were in the affluent suburb of Waterkloof Ridge at the Castello Di Monte, a lovely five-star guesthouse evocative of a 16th-century Italian villa. It has a spiraling granite stairway, sculpture and artwork at every turn, and my suite had a spacious balcony with fine views of the city. Meals were served in an intimate dining room — superb cuisine, fine wine and impeccable service — under an elaborately painted ceiling.

A guy could get used to this luxury, and happily, my patrician lifestyle was just beginning. I was about to experience Rovos Rail.

I’ve been traveling by rail since I was a kid. My father worked as a waiter in a dining car, and this gave my family occasional access to free train travel, albeit on a very modest scale: sleeping on seats that did not recline and eating sandwiches that my mom made before we left home. But we traveled extensively, and I loved it.

Rovos is a totally different experience. A private railroad, it has been described as “the pride of Africa” and “the most luxurious train in the world.” It started in 1989 when Rohan Vos, a rail-loving entrepreneur, bought and lovingly refurbished some old railway coaches and then began offering a world-class travel experience.

My route was a four-day/three-night trip from Pretoria to Cape Town in a Deluxe suite; quite a step up from when I was a kid.

These exquisitely rebuilt, classic wood-paneled coaches carry a maximum of 72 passengers in 36 superbly appointed suites. There is a lounge car, two dining cars, a smoking lounge, a small gift shop, an observation car with an open-air balcony and private sleeping compartments, each with a shower, sink and toilet facilities. Passengers can select among three upscale accommodations: Pullman, Deluxe and the Royal Suite, which takes up half a train car and has a Victorian-style bathtub. With discreet and friendly service, excellent cuisine and a selection of South Africa’s finest wines, Rovos Rail evokes a charming, more sophisticated era encompassing the timeless grace and high romance of exploration.

In the spirit of old-school elegance, there are no radios or televisions onboard, and cellphone and laptop usage is discouraged in public areas. Passengers dress up for the evening meal, and I found that the dress code worked to motivate people to interact with one another.

Rovos is family-owned, and Rohan Vos is still there to greet guests in the stylish departure lounge. The company offers a variety of itineraries throughout South Africa as well as Botswana, Zimbabwe, Namibia, Zambia, Angola, Congo and Tanzania.

Dark past, bright future

Arriving at Cape Town on schedule, I checked into a spacious room with floor-to-ceiling windows at the Table Bay Hotel. This five-star facility sets a high standard of international service and cuisine and occupies a prime location on the V&A Waterfront, Africa’s premier shopping destination.

From Cape Town, I did two excursions by car, both retracing paths of my 1981 trip. One was a drive to the capital of South Africa’s wine country, Stellenbosch. On my previous trip, I was reluctant to actually stop in a winery for a tasting — I wasn’t sure how I’d be received. This time, I did stop in a picturesque winery and sat for a tasting.

My other excursion was along the scenic Chapman’s Peak Drive, which follows the sea along Hout Bay, with turnouts to scan the water for whales.

I toured the city of Cape Town on foot. I spent some of the time roaming the streets of the Bo-Kaap neighborhood, with its brightly colored houses and cobblestone streets. This district is home to people from a mix of Malaysian, African, Indian and Sri Lankan heritage, primarily the descendants of enslaved people brought to the Cape in the 16th and 17th centuries.

I also checked out the cafes, breweries and street life of Woodstock and Salt River, two emerging neighborhoods close to the Cape Town city center. Of particular interest to me was the abundance of creative graffiti and murals, which I spent a delightful day admiring and photographing. While strolling the streets of Salt River, I had arranged to be guided by Nadia, a Muslim woman, who shared a lot about the history and culture of her neighborhood. Though it wasn’t part of the prearrangements, she invited me to tea at a friend’s home. This unique experience with such a friendly family was one of the highlights of my trip.

And I can’t imagine anyone visiting Cape Town without going to the top of Table Mountain. Best views of the city and the South Atlantic. I had been told that you could spend hours waiting to get into a cable car for the five-minute journey to the summit, despite it carrying 800 visitors per hour. But I arrived early, and the queue was short.

When I was there in 1981, each cable car only carried about eight people. Now they carry 65, with a rotating floor that ensures all visitors get a 360-degree aerial panorama. The views are as spectacular as ever.

On my previous trip, I looked out over the water at the prison on Robben Island, knowing that Nelson Mandela was there. I couldn’t visit the prison back then but was determined to do so this time.

Robben Island is about five miles offshore, and the trip by ferry takes about an hour. When I disembarked, I immediately felt a weird, foreboding vibe. Although the day was warm and sunny, there is nothing festive or enjoyable about this place. The guide on the 45-minute bus tour narrated a litany of gruesome details about its history. After that, we toured the prison grounds on foot; an older Black man, a former inmate, gave a firsthand account of what the days and nights were like there. Finally, you’re brought to the tiny cell where Mandela spent 18 years of his life. The trip was equal parts fascinating and depressing, and it brought into full focus the grim hardships of apartheid that were prevalent during my previous visit to this country.

Thankfully, this time was different. Apartheid is long gone, and people are no longer required to live under harsh conditions in segregated ghettos. On the flip side, there are still problems. People I met complained of issues, including unemployment, power outages, crime, immigration and corruption.

But there was also a persistent feeling of optimism that, in spite of these problems, things were slowly getting better. I left with a sense of hope that this beautiful country would prosper. Someday, I may have to go back and see it again. That’s how it is when you are born curious.

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