I once knew a guy who really, really wanted to travel to New Zealand from the United States, but the 24-plus-hour flight kept him from ever doing it. After flying from Iceland to Cape Town, South Africa, I can’t really say I blame him.
Even with my fancy first-class seat and absolutely delectable food, when I stepped off the plane I still moved like a sloth who had been hit by one of Wile E. Coyote’s anvils. With the added impact of a few hectic days in Reykjavik and the extreme need for a shower, I was pretty much a mess.
But that didn’t stop me from being nearly ecstatic when I saw my first view of Table Mountain on our way to our hotel for the night. I had been dreaming of going to South Africa, Cape Town specifically, for years and years, and now, here I was.
As we drove west toward
