Notes from the Paarl Mall, a town in the wine district a little east of Cape Town…

The colors of the land, the colors of the people…

They stroll through the mall like people anywhere - shopping for shoes or CDs or just shopping. Stop for a coffee or a filled pancake (this is Cape Dutch country after all, even if the Afrikaans is being spoken by as many black people as white.)

The colors of the clothing are varied, running from bland to vivid. Lots of denim, of course, but also lots of "traditionally built" (not my term) women wearing vivid garb, with bright headscarves and babies carried papoose-style. Other babies and toddlers are pushed along in the shopping carts, doing baby and toddler things, but mainly smiling and enjoying the scene just like us.

One sees more Asian folk in this part of the country compared to other parts - in addition to Indian populations there's a significant presence of Malay folk hereabouts.

There are still more white people than persons of color, as we would say at home, but it's far from monochrome in the mall. Oh, very far.

Of course one cannot visit South Africa without the legacy of Apartheid and the gulf between white and black, have and have-not, being in your face. You pull into a gas station and three guys race forward to pump gas, wash the windows, check your oil… all black of course and all doing this for tips - their livelihood. Outside of every town of any size there's an "informal" settlement - a shanty town - that's usually bigger than the main town, and poorly signposted.

To a first-time visitor (and some second- and third-timers too) the gap can be uncomfortable, as it ought to be. Such poverty amidst such beauty, and such wealth, is an affront to anybody but the hardest-hearted.

You tell yourself that things are getting better, and the evidence from the mall is that yes, they are. The talk shows on the radio are not about festering rebellion or deepening poverty, but the opposite - people working hard to improve things, the movement of black people into positions of leadership in the economy and not just the government. Even in the remote villages one sees thousands of kids walking in clean uniforms to and from school. Zulu thatched rondavels with satellite dishes. Not universal, far from. But enough visual evidence that things are moving up, not down.

The skin tones in the mall are not quite a rainbow in this "rainbow nation" (Nelson Mandela's term which for obvious reasons isn't repeated much in the west.) But they're pretty diverse - black to brown to white, with all variations and shades. One notices distinctive ethnic coloring variations between different parts of the country - a paler skin tone among the San and other western/southern folk than you see farther north or east; freckles more or less prominent… and of course the mixtures, noted more on this trip than on previous ones.

Outside the mall, the country is moving briskly into spring. Fields of lambs, some flowering fruit trees, oranges and lemons on the ground under trees laden with their kin. Green pastures and grey mountains hovering over the vineyards. Bright yellow fields of canola flowers. White lilies next to fields of cows. Black and white crows doing crow things, herons and storks and little crimson birds.

People in bright clothes going about their business. On Sundays some are in bright blue uniform-style dresses, apparently indicative of some church group.

Our hotel that night in Franschhoek is mustard-colored, with spring flowers in abundance in the common rooms and on the grounds. The local wines are ruby, pink, and golden. The sunset is deep red, as is the following sunrise. The road into Cape Town passes strawberry stands.

We delay our departure from Cape Town to the morning before our Sydney flight from Joburg, so that we can spend a last afternoon in the Cape, which we do observing more black and white residents. Penguins this time. We encounter a famous Fodors correspondent at Boulders Beach. He uses a rainbow as his web tagline, "proud to be South African." As well he should.