DAY 156: I hadn't left the confines of the hostel since the mugging at knifepoint two days prior, and it was about time I got over my fear and ventured out on the streets of Cape Town again. However, my fear was merely replaced by paranoia.

Most of the day I spent finishing up the last five entries, out in the backyard or in my bed, which had become quite sloppy (picture above) over the past couple of days. One thing's for sure; when I'm waiting around for my replacement bank cards to arrive, I really do make myself at home.

It was about two in the afternoon when I decided to finally venture out into the world, to go to the internet cafe and the supermarket. I went down Park Road, the same road I was robbed on, and it was a lot different with the sun brightly shining and groups of people walking around. However, it didn't completely keep me from being as edgy as if I just had a dozen shots of espresso.

Walking down the streets I was a nervous wreck, flinching at the slightest movements of people, watching my back as if danger was following me like a stray dog and I had a steak duct taped to my back. It was a pretty strange and heightened emotion to have; up until the mugging, I was really confident about walking around. Before, despite warnings, I had no problem walking back to the hostel at 2:30 in the morning, or walking to and up Lion's Head all by myself.

But now I was like a fish inside a blender, nervously hoping no one would push "purée." I was envious of the other people walking around without any apparent paranoia at all and wished to one of them again.

I think it was John Lennon who once said, "Time heals all wounds."

THROUGHOUT THE DAY, I got different reactions from people I had told my tale to.

"Was it your first mugging?" the guy working at the internet cafe asked me.

"Yeah."

"Oh, that's why," he said, speaking from experience. "Next time, you'll have this quick thought in your head, 'Oh, not again,' and within those couple of seconds, you'll actually think about your options." He told me that the mugger is probably just as nervous as you are, because anything can go wrong, and you have to analyze the situation and take advantage of that.

Sean from Ireland told me he probably would have done what I did. "He had a knife?" he asked me.

"Yeah, plus he was about six foot three, four. He had about a foot on me."

"If he had a knife, I don't care if he was two-foot tall," he said before noticing the huge machete someone was holding by the grill in preparation for the weekly Tuesday night ostrich and fish braai. "Oh, you should have a knife like that and pull a Crocodile Dundee on him."

Vivek, a British-Canadian working in Kenya and vacationing in Cape Town, told me about the time he got mugged in Nairobi when he had no money or anything of value on him. He emptied his pockets and opened up his empty wallet to prove it. "'Next time, make sure you have money so I can take it from you!'" Vivek quoted his attacker.

AFTER DINING ON OSTRICH KEBABS, grilled snoek, dates wrapped in bacon, corn on the cobs, salads and a variety of African squash in the courtyard with my friends for the day, Irish Sean and Long Island Kate suggested we go out for a couple of rounds out on Long Street, where all the bars were. It was Kate's last night, plus the last nights for Ed and George from Buenos Aires and Danit from Israel -- a farewell outing was in order. I was still wary about going out at night.

"Oh, I don't know," I said. "I think I'll just chill out here."

"Oh, come on," Irish Sean persuaded.

"We'll have safety in numbers," Kate added.

"Okay, fine. Pull my arm," I said. It really didn't take much to convince me to go out drinking.

San Diego Sean and Israeli Assaf joined six of us and we all walked down the road in a big group. Kate joked that we were like a herd of gazelle just waiting for a lion to attack us.

No lions came though. Nothing happened. Just like every other night I'd been out -- other than that one night -- everything was fine. Sure it was a little shady sometimes, but nothing to worry about if you just kept your wits about you. My wits were coming back.

We sat out on the balcony of Cool Runnings, a decent bar with Becks and Windhoek on draught. We sat and talked over beers and Cape ciders until closing time at midnight -- it was a Tuesday and most of the Long Street scene was tame. In the safety of numbers, we walked back up the hill to The Backpack. With a couple of drinks in me, my nerves had been calmed down.

I think it was John Lennon who once said, "Time heals all wounds" -- but a couple of drinks doesn't hurt either.

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