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Nik Rabinowitz's best holiday ever? His entire life before kids

Nik Rabinowitz's best holiday ever? His entire life before kids

TimesLIVE4 days ago
Hi, I'm Nik. I'm a hunter-gatherer, Xhosa-light, forest-farm boy, raised on the mean, green streets of Constantia, Cape Town. I went to a Waldorf school, where I learnt to sew felt elephants and crochet my own underwear. My new show Geriatric Millennial is very funny. How do I know that? I checked with multiple audiences that didn't include my mother.
Describing yourself as 'a traveller' in 2025 is like putting 'photographer' in your LinkedIn bio after you bought an iPhone, although I've been to six continents, so maybe I can. Come to think of it, I'm one continent away from the full box set. Hopefully my friend Riaan Manser invites me to Antarctica because I'm not willingly paying 200k to freeze my arse off.
Three words that describe my travel personality: adventurey, outdoorsy, off-the-beaten-tracky.
I grew up on a farm in Cape Town and for the holidays we'd often camp on the farm Boontjieskloof (subsequently gentrified to Bushmanskloof) in the Agter-Pakuis Cederberg mountains. I remember campfires, condensed milk, moerkoffie, pothole swimming, rock-art hunting, sleeping under 500-million-year-old rock overhangs, watching sparks float up towards stars ... and the time my dad dropped the matza balls.
My first trip abroad was to Sea Point. From Constantia. To see my Great Aunt Sarah. My mom packed me a little suitcase full of matchbox cars, my parents loaded the car full of supplies and padkos and off we went.
My first overseas trip was to the UK on a school cricket tour. I remember my teammate 'Festicles' buying a magazine full of images unlike anything we'd seen in Scope. Our coach Christoffel arrived looking like he'd wrestled a brewery and lost. And we drank Bristol Exhibition cider like it was apple juice — until Dovvi vomited all over our host family's house. 'Cultural exchange' sometimes just means learning how to apologise in a foreign language while your parents work out whether travel insurance covers diplomatic embarrassment caused by fermented fruit products.
My most remote destination was Cordillera Blanca in Peru. I learnt that sharing a tent with Jon-Jon-Keegan at 5,000m while one of you has violent vomiting and diarrhoea is a real test — especially with only Spanish-speaking donkeys for moral support. My most difficult was Kilimanjaro at -10°C, with acute pulmonary oedema. And there's nothing cute about it.
I'm not an adventurous eater on holiday. Though I did eat flambéed pigeon shin in Peru, followed by Arequipan guinea pig. It was either that or Alpaca testicles.
Best place for a night out? Upington. There's a club called Plan B; 60% of the town enjoys being tied up. They don't have a Plan A. Also Amsterdam — bikes, dykes and Hollandse Nieuwe Haring [young herring, a traditional Dutch delicacy].
One thing I always do on holiday is try to disappear in the morning to 'explore' — that is have a midlife crisis. Then attempt the 'Great Holiday Seduction' on my wife, usually met with the enthusiasm of someone who's been applying sunscreen to toddlers all day.
When travelling, I am a sucker for malaria. Got it in Malawi. Didn't die, so that was a good outcome. Also, I once dug my boss a long drop in Mozambique. That's the day you become a man.
Best holiday ever? A mokoro safari in the Okavango. Also backpacking through Mozambique before it was cleared of landmines. I once survived a cyclone and clubbed a fish like Tom Hanks in Cast Away, except with more guilt.
Most relaxing destination? Churchhaven, on Langebaan Lagoon in the West Coast National Park. You rent a house for the price of a small European nation, but it reminds you what 'free' feels like.
Tourist attractions that surprised me? Bredasdorp: window view of a brick wall. Malindi, Kenya: too Italian — rather just go to Italy.
Must-see before you die? West Point, Liberia. Because you probably will. Kandahar, Afghanistan — terrifying but beautiful mountains.
Favourite museum? Cradle of Humankind. Nothing makes you feel more evolved than seeing your ancient grandmother in a glass box while someone explains evolution like it's Survivor.
Favourite hotel? The Drake, Toronto. Cool vibe. Theatre. And every room has a book titled God is Very Disappointed in You. Inspirational.
What I think when I see South Africans abroad? 'I hope they talk smack about me in Afrikaans.'
Bucket-list destinations? North Korea; Lithuania (grandfather's expropriated house, ideally with EFF support); the NG Kerk in Comodoro Rivadavia, Patagonia; the Great Wall of China — for my 50th, with my favourite chinas.
Places I'd return to? Lamu Island, Kenya; Hydra Island, Greece; Delta Camp, Okavango; Joshua Tree, California; the Transkei's Wild Coast — it's mystical and has a wall with a hole in it.
Never again? Holocaust memorial in Riga, Latvia. Cathartic, but not for the faint-hearted. Also, Europe. So many languages. €8 sandwiches. You won't like it. Trust me.
Best holiday ever? My entire life before I had kids.
Worst hotel? Formula 3 in Nairobi. They gave us flip-flops for the bathroom.
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Nik Rabinowitz's best holiday ever? His entire life before kids
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time4 days ago

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Nik Rabinowitz's best holiday ever? His entire life before kids

Hi, I'm Nik. I'm a hunter-gatherer, Xhosa-light, forest-farm boy, raised on the mean, green streets of Constantia, Cape Town. I went to a Waldorf school, where I learnt to sew felt elephants and crochet my own underwear. My new show Geriatric Millennial is very funny. How do I know that? I checked with multiple audiences that didn't include my mother. Describing yourself as 'a traveller' in 2025 is like putting 'photographer' in your LinkedIn bio after you bought an iPhone, although I've been to six continents, so maybe I can. Come to think of it, I'm one continent away from the full box set. Hopefully my friend Riaan Manser invites me to Antarctica because I'm not willingly paying 200k to freeze my arse off. Three words that describe my travel personality: adventurey, outdoorsy, off-the-beaten-tracky. I grew up on a farm in Cape Town and for the holidays we'd often camp on the farm Boontjieskloof (subsequently gentrified to Bushmanskloof) in the Agter-Pakuis Cederberg mountains. I remember campfires, condensed milk, moerkoffie, pothole swimming, rock-art hunting, sleeping under 500-million-year-old rock overhangs, watching sparks float up towards stars ... and the time my dad dropped the matza balls. My first trip abroad was to Sea Point. From Constantia. To see my Great Aunt Sarah. My mom packed me a little suitcase full of matchbox cars, my parents loaded the car full of supplies and padkos and off we went. My first overseas trip was to the UK on a school cricket tour. I remember my teammate 'Festicles' buying a magazine full of images unlike anything we'd seen in Scope. Our coach Christoffel arrived looking like he'd wrestled a brewery and lost. And we drank Bristol Exhibition cider like it was apple juice — until Dovvi vomited all over our host family's house. 'Cultural exchange' sometimes just means learning how to apologise in a foreign language while your parents work out whether travel insurance covers diplomatic embarrassment caused by fermented fruit products. My most remote destination was Cordillera Blanca in Peru. I learnt that sharing a tent with Jon-Jon-Keegan at 5,000m while one of you has violent vomiting and diarrhoea is a real test — especially with only Spanish-speaking donkeys for moral support. My most difficult was Kilimanjaro at -10°C, with acute pulmonary oedema. And there's nothing cute about it. I'm not an adventurous eater on holiday. Though I did eat flambéed pigeon shin in Peru, followed by Arequipan guinea pig. It was either that or Alpaca testicles. Best place for a night out? Upington. There's a club called Plan B; 60% of the town enjoys being tied up. They don't have a Plan A. Also Amsterdam — bikes, dykes and Hollandse Nieuwe Haring [young herring, a traditional Dutch delicacy]. One thing I always do on holiday is try to disappear in the morning to 'explore' — that is have a midlife crisis. Then attempt the 'Great Holiday Seduction' on my wife, usually met with the enthusiasm of someone who's been applying sunscreen to toddlers all day. When travelling, I am a sucker for malaria. Got it in Malawi. Didn't die, so that was a good outcome. Also, I once dug my boss a long drop in Mozambique. That's the day you become a man. Best holiday ever? A mokoro safari in the Okavango. Also backpacking through Mozambique before it was cleared of landmines. I once survived a cyclone and clubbed a fish like Tom Hanks in Cast Away, except with more guilt. Most relaxing destination? Churchhaven, on Langebaan Lagoon in the West Coast National Park. You rent a house for the price of a small European nation, but it reminds you what 'free' feels like. Tourist attractions that surprised me? Bredasdorp: window view of a brick wall. 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Lamu Island, Kenya; Hydra Island, Greece; Delta Camp, Okavango; Joshua Tree, California; the Transkei's Wild Coast — it's mystical and has a wall with a hole in it. Never again? Holocaust memorial in Riga, Latvia. Cathartic, but not for the faint-hearted. Also, Europe. So many languages. €8 sandwiches. You won't like it. Trust me. Best holiday ever? My entire life before I had kids. Worst hotel? Formula 3 in Nairobi. They gave us flip-flops for the bathroom.

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