We eventually got to Cape Town.
Sheldon took Warwick and me (it's 'me' not 'I') to a kind of jazz house in Woodstock. Conservatively, there were 15 people at the show, and it was crowded. Some tripcat took the photo below. We were also reassured by the 'manager' of the venue that most of the murders associated with the place hadn't actually happened. He was stirred out of a coma on the couch next to us to let us know. It was weird.
The next day we hit coffee at some kind of hippie commune near a mental facility. It was also weird.