Saying goodbye to Africa--On our final night in Africa, Steven took us to his local upmarket Italian, Tutti Pasta. As we followed the owner, Piero, through the tiny cozy establishment to our table, we were suddenly assaulted by 'O Sole Mio' at TOP volume. Was some hamfisted waitress adjusting the sound system? No. It was Piero himself, spontaneously breaking into passionate song. 'O sole mio .. sta 'nfronte a te!' Whoa! And if you're looking for that ristorante authentico experience in Pretoria, South Africa, you can't do better than Tutti. Piero is as enthusiastic and voluble and as wildly gesticulating as a teevee chef, and he is only too happy to shoo the waitress away so that he can give you his own, hour-long version of the house specials. In the event, we were well pleased with his recommendations. I tried Piero's unique version of a bobotie, which is a South African dish by way of Malaysia, and is "a sort of savory bread custard with lots of ground lamb, curry, fruit and nuts." Tutti serves instead an amazing fish bobotie, the proprietor's invention, and it is nummers to the highest degree. Over it all Piero ladled more Italian effusiveness, which Steven volleyed oh-so admirably, while Michael and I squirmed a bit under the sensation of being in the middle of 'Tony 'n' Tina's Wedding'. (Signore Tutti even pushed the tables aside and urged us to have a little swing to Sinatra. Wedding Reception City!) Being such an over-the-top blast, though, it was the perfect valedictory evening with Steven, who was the most generous, knowledgeable, companionable host and friend to us, all our Africa days. Baie dankie, Steven 'Smiling Pumpkin' Van Zyl. It was baie lekker! Ta ta!

Zimbabwe--Hal-ay-hooo-haa!!! After three countries, twenty days and countless stale bread/cucumber/grated-cheese sandwiches, we're finally free of Umkulu. Our overlanding experience is over and none too soon; if you read our previous post then you know the sad story of sleepless nights and manic rantings. Night #19 was one sleepless night too many, so on the morning of day #20 we woke up (bleary-eyed and pissed-off) ready to finish our African experience on our own.

Problem is...now what? Surely there must be a bus or something that'll get us to Vic Falls, right? We're only a coupla hours away, ain't we? Let's go check with the guy that runs the campsite. Excellent news, Smithers, there's a guy that'll take us to the border crossing where we can get another shuttle driver to take us into the Falls. So after uncomfortable goodbyes to our guides and a few of our safari-mates, we hopped in a truck and headed to the Zimbabwe border. Driving off with the Botswanan wind in our hair, the relief was palpable. We actually took deep breaths and looked at each other as if to say...we're free again. I don't think either of us really realized how hard it had been to be tied to the agenda of a large group of strangers for such a long time. Oh well, lesson learned.

But the Gods of Cosmic Comedy were lurking, ready to toss one of their flaming-arrows-of-awkwardness, just as we thought we'd made our smug getaway. See, the Chobe River campsite, where we'd just left, was only about a 20 km from the Zim/Bots border...our overland safari truck left Chobe only about 15 minutes before us...and it takes at least 1/2-hour to get through the border-crossing paperwork. So, as we pull up to the border, there sits the dreaded evil-enemy-big-ass-blue truck with all of our evil-enemy-ex-safari-mates (ok, they weren't really evil, some of 'em nice actually) filling out their immigration forms. "Hi, it's us again". Kinda like walking late into crowded high school classroom after just having tripped in the mud...oh, sooooo embarassing.

But, steadfast in the knowledge that we were the good guys and they were the evil-enemy-ex-safari-mates, we ignored their glares and stares, filled out our forms and entered Zimbabwe, where we were met by a driver who took us the rest of the way into Victoria Falls. Now Zimbabwe, as you may know, is currently at the center of a fair bit of international controversy, mostly centering around President/Nutcase Robert Mugabe, stolen elections (you know, kinda like Matthew Broderick and Reese Witherspoon) and a seriously ugly land reform policy. If you don't know much about it, check here for more. It's pretty twisted stuff. Anyway, given all of this mess, Zimbabwe was one of those places we didn't think we'd ever actually be going to. One of our lessons learned since we've started travelling is that local information, not the media-ravaged mess you get in your home country, is the key to travelling safely and intelligently. If all you did was listen to American or British nightly news or read State Department reports, you'd probably never leave your home. When it came to Zimbabwe, we were certainly skeptical, but after asking locals (in our case, South Africans who travel there regularly) we found that most of real problems nowdays are between the farmers and governments, and tourism is fairly welcomed and encouraged. Another positive sign is that South African tour companies (whose livelihoods rely on knowing better) have started returning to Zimbabwe after nearly a year of avoiding it.

So, we went. And was it an experience. As I said, it's generally ok to be a tourist in Zimbabwe. In other words, we weren't harrassed by gun-toting militia-men and we weren't caught up in any stone-throwing melees nor were we thrown into any mysterious prisons with charges 'pending'. But we were aware, almost constantly, in fact, that something was seriously amiss in this truly beautiful country. The economy has nearly collapsed, the currency almost worthless (more shortly about the black market) and lots of people are expected to suffer famine conditions over the next few months to a year due to drought and the problems caused by government-led farm seizures...I'm no expert, so please do your own reading.

For tourists, currency is the craziest thing you have to deal with. Western hard currency is king and if you don't bring in enough US Dollars or SA Rand, you're stuffed. The offical bank exchange rate is $US 1 = $Zim 55. This is NOT, however, the exchange rate. The real rate, what you get on the black market (except, oddly, the black market rate is what you get at 'offical' exchanges) is $US 1 = $Zim 500-600! Ten-times the official rate! Here's how it works. You bring your $US to an exchange office (or even, mysteriously, the office behind the kitchen and through the DJ-booth of one of the local nightclubs after asking for Tom!) and you're given Zim Dollars at the 'black market' rate after which you're carrying around a wad of bills. But these Zim dollars are nearly worthless in many places. You can pay for food and groceries with them (all dirt cheap), but accommodation, trinkets and activities (Vic Falls is the adventure capital of southern Africa) must be paid for in western currency. And if you try to use travelers checks, you get a moan and groan from the hostel-owner about how they're losing money on the transaction. Blah, blah. And DON'T use your credit card! Here's where you can really get screwed. Say you buy a gift in a gift shop or try to pay for a meal (some restaurants in the touristy Vic Falls area price their menus based on the black-market rate; a rate which changes so often that the menus are actually printed without prices) with your credit card. Say the item is priced at $Zim 5,000 (about $US 8-10 at the black market rate)...pretty cheap, huh. Until they run your credit card through and the Zim central bank takes that $Zim 5,000 and converts it at the official rate of $Zim 55/$US 1...now your credit card bill says that you owe 5000/55 or $US 91...that little trinket just became f***in' expensive. Crazy, huh.

So credit cards are out and we showed up with far fewer US Dollars and SA Rand than we would have liked, meaning that Zimbabwe became a real logistical/currencetical hassle for us. But we still had a pretty cool time. The town of Vic Falls is, in the words of our Vic Falls hostel owner, "a real shit-hole". Swarming with curio-vendor/money-changer/taxi-getter/rafting-trip-sellers that hound you up and down the street. "Best rate, my friend!"...get away, you're not my friend! But still, the falls themselves are amazing (though a bit overpriced...the national park gave up charging in the local currency so now you have to pay $US 20 cash just to get in)...raging falls, beautiful rainbows dancing over steep, moss-encrusted ravines and awesome views. Oh, and as I mentioned, Vic Falls is THE place in southern African to get your adrenalin rush...bungy jumpy (which we watched, but didn't partake...I'll do it in NZ), gorge-swinging (which we were going to do, but they were closed for maintenance) and white-water rafting on the Zambezi river (which we DID do, and had a blast). In the end, seeing the falls and the rafting we're a reasonable trade-off for the aggrivation that is...Vic Falls, Zimbabwe.

(One last mention of the evil-enemy-ex-safari-mates is called for here...and it was bound to happen, seeing that they were, in fact, also on their way to Vic Falls. After a short hike through part of the Vic Falls national park system, we happened upon a campground which was clearly sporting a bar...refreshments beckoning. As we went in and relaxed with our nutritious replenishments (ok, beer and chips) I pulled out the binocs to view a few of the birds buzzing about when I spied through an opening in the trees...our evil-enemy-big-ass-blue truck! Argggh. Let's skedaddle! I swear I had dreams about that truck for a week.)

After Vic Falls (and I'll make this quick) we headed south back to Pretoria via Zimbabwe's second largest city, Bulawayo. An overnight train there (18 hours to cover 400 kilometers!!!!), three days in Bulawayo and an overnight bus to Pretoria is the long and the short of it. Bulawayo was fairly cool...cheap meals, cheaper curios and an even cheaper movie (we saw Fast and Furious for 75 cents...Vin Diesel rocks!!!) but more currency hassles. When finally we made it back across the SA border, back to the land of stable-currency and ATM machines, we breathed a sigh of relief, having successfully negotiated that land that Mugabe wrought.

Cape Town to Victoria Falls Overland--A truck. A tent. 20 strangers. 20 days. That, my friends, is an African Overland Safari. We just finished it (a bit early, but more on that later) and here's our report. I won't give the daily blow-by-blow, but here's a rundown of highlights (loads of 'em) and lowlights (sadly, some of them, too).

Overlanding 101--An overland safari is kind of a regional primer. The idea, which seems to be a pretty good one, is that in between lots of great sights (especially in Africa, but they also do 'em in Australia) there are lots of miles. LOTS of miles. And one way to cover those miles, a cheap way, is to load a bunch of people in a truck, give them a tent and camp and cook your way from place to place. I'd call it a primer because you don't really get to spend too much time exploring one area, instead sacrificing in-depth exploration in favor of whirlwind coverage.

There are two pretty common overlanding routes through sub-Saharan Africa. One begins (or ends) in Kenya and heads down through Tanzania, Malawi, Zambia, finally ending up (or beginning, if you go the other direction) in Victoria Falls. The other (ours) starts from the bottom, Cape Town and heads up to Vic Falls via Namibia and Botswana. Both of these routes offer you a chance to experience a little of everything (from game parks to natural wonders to local culture) and for the truly intrepid, the two can even be combined into one long-ass trip from the Cape to Kilimanjaro.

People--This is where it gets interesting. As you can imagine, a key element to the quality of your trip is the quality of the people you wind up with. You obviously don't go on an overland safari just to meet 20 new people, you go to see cool stuff. But let's face it, if you're going to spend three weeks with these 20 new people, it's helpful if you like them and even better if you find people you can bond with. Let's call this the sittin'-around-the-campfire index.

On our trip we had our two guides, Sparky (yep) and Stuart, both South Africans, and anywhere between 10 and 20 others. The first week was pretty cool because by some stroke of tour booking luck, nearly half our group didn't join us until Swakopmund, Namibia, six or seven days in. Lots of Danish and Dutch with some Swiss, a Korean and an Aussie, but for the first week, things were pretty relaxed, comfortable and easy going. So for now, the sittin'-around-the-campfire index was positive, in the black, so to speak.

After the first week, however, we lost the Swiss and Korean and picked up about 10 more Dutch people--the most obnoxious of them, a group of five early-20-somethings hell-bent on partying, farting and belching their way across Africa...aka, the Dutchies--completely throwing the "social balance" of the trip out of whack. During the first week of the trip we had a nice mix of nationalities, pretty much all of whom spoke fluent english, and life in the truck and around the campfire was fairly inclusive. When things "went Dutch", however (and nothing against Dutch people...really, they make a fine cheese), the group basically split down the middle and the english-only-around-the-campfire edict went out of the window. Most of the time it was the Dutch group on one side and non-Dutch on the other, which, while certainly not a catastrophe, was unfortunate. And now the sittin'-around-the-campfire index begins its decline.

Daily Life--But what do you do on an overland? Well, you mostly drive places, but there is a bit more to it than that. The typical day is an early one, usually waking up at 6AM in order to leave at 7AM (6-for-7, in overlanding parlance), or if we were lucky we got to sleep until 7AM (7-for-8). In that hour you packed up your stuff, broke down your tent and tried to cram down some cereal before climbing aboard Bessie (the truck did have a name, but I can't remember it). Upon arrival at the next destination, you got out, got your stuff and set up camp again.

During the day, mostly at mealtime but sometimes in the morning, you had a job to do. Every one was assigned to a team and, depending on the day, your team was expected to help pitch in with...cooking, cleanup, packing or wake-up. If you were on the cooking team, you helped peel potatoes or chop lettuce. If you were on packing, you put/took the chair/utensils/luggage/etc in and out of the truck. Cleanup...dishes. Wakeup...yell at everyone at 6AM. For the most part, this was a pretty cool aspect to the trip, having to work while on vacation notwithstanding, and everyone really pitched in. At least during the first week...trying to get the lazy-ass Dutchies to do anything was pulling teeth (the best was when one of them tried to throw out a metal dish rather than wash it). Slip-slide, there goes the sittin'-around-the-campfire index.

The Itinerary--So enough about the sittin'-around-the-campfire index, you say. What did actually do? Right. So if you pull out a map and look at the bottom of Africa you'll see our itinerary right there before you. From Cape Town (see previous posting) we went straight north along the western coast of South Africa, via a tiny town called Springbok and the Cedarberg mountains and into Namibia to...

• The Orange River...a canoe trip and a great sunset
• Fish River Canyon...cool view, world's second longest canyon
• Namib Desert...amazing red dunes...sun and moon, rises and sets like you've never seen
• Swakopmund...cool town on the edge of the desert
• Spitzkoppe...our first bush camping (no water, no toilets, no tent, just stars)
• Etosha National Park...amazing watering holes..animals, animals, animals
• Windhoek...a quick overnight stop in the country's capital

and into Botswana...

• The Okavango Delta...mekoro rides and bush camping...spectacular
• Chobe National Park...game drive and an amazing river cruise 

and finally into Zimbabwe

• Victoria Falls...well we did this one ourselves (more later)

The Top 5 Highlights--Too much, can't cover it all, so here are the highlights.

• Chobe National Park River Cruise, Botswana...Unbelievable. A sunset river cruise down the Chobe river, its banks teeming, absolutely teeming, with wildlife. More birds than we could count. Families of elephants drinking from the shore. Hippos bathing. Dozens of buffalo.
• Okavango Delta, Botswana...Two days in the delta, camping and hiking in the bush, transported by locals in handmade dugout canoes called mokoros. The mokoro rides were three or four of the most peaceful, idyllic and serene hours of my life.
• The Red Dunes of the Namib...The desert. Striking dunes, turned red by iron deposits, continuing for miles and miles.  We woke up early and drove out to Dune 45 (I guess they counted them) and climbed to the top to catch the sunrise. From there it was further in to take a guided walk with our Japanese (?!?) guide, who showed us that there really is more life in the desert than you can imagine.
• Etosha National Park, Namibia...A game park in northern Namibia sitting around an enormous salt pan. Spent three days there, going from campground to campground, game-driving during the morning and evenings, relaxing during the afternoons. The game drives were a bit disappointing compared to Kruger, probably because we were in a big truck with 22 people instead of a small one with four. But the watering holes! Each campsite was built on a natural (floodlit) watering hole where you could sit during the night and just watch as the animals came to drink. We saw giraffe, elephants, black rhino, hyenas, jackals, owls, warthog and antelope of all kind. (Missed the lion and leopard.) At one point we watched as two families of elephants, about 35 in all, monopolized the hole.
• Spitzkoppe...Bush camping in the middle of Namibia. Spitzkoppe is the name of an 1800-meter rock outcropping halfway between Swakopmund and Etosha where we made camp under the stars. No water, no toilet. We slept under the stars, and bloody hell there were a lot of them. So many that you could see the swathe of white caused by the 'Milky Way'. Staring up at the Southern Cross surrounded by such nothingness is something I won't forget soon.

The Lowlights--Oh but in the end it was the Campfire Index...going way into the red, sub-zero, negative, negatory, off the charts...that did us in. It started on night two, sadly, as we found ourselves trying to sleep some of our trip-mates held a loud conversations in their tent, just a few feet away. "Um, could you please keep it down?" Yep, it was downhill from there. Are we too old? Do we not belong on the road? In hostels? Around other travelers? Or do we just expect too much in the way of courtesy and consideration?

So after that first night we asked our guides if there was some way to devise a plan so that those that want to party, can, while those that want to sleep, can too? After all, we want to stay up and party sometimes, just not every night. They sort of brushed us off, saying things would be fine, except that, a few nights later, it was the guides making all of the noise. This really pissed us off, earning me the raving lunatic award (had a bit of a tirade) and again helping to establish the tone for the rest of the trip. Campfire Index...goin' down. What really sucked was that now I felt like the idiot, like the lame-ass who couldn't get along and was out to ruin everyone's fun...ugggh!

So after my tirade against the guides on day four we really tried hard to be nice and get along, until the Dutchies arrived, bunging up the works for good. They were loud, stupid, inconsiderate and just plain pain-in-the-asses. Screaming and howling at two in the AM...I swear one of them was going to get a tent-soaking until the 19th night, what would turn out to be our final night on the trip...

Honestly, we were really getting along. The night had been great...the sunset river cruise down the Chobe was unforgettable. Dinner was great and a costume/theme party was planned for the night, which Janna and I were totally up for...except that we decided to take a nap first, having gotten up at 5:30 that morning for a game drive. We fell asleep at about 8:30 and completely overslept, waking up to the noise of the party at about 10:30, but completely wiped out and not in any mood to join in the festivities. We layed there for 4 1/2 hours, until about 3AM, waiting for the party to die down, completely exhausted. When I finally got up to go in search of relief, again forced into the role of raving lunatic, I found about 5 or 6 completely drunken people, including our guides, and was wildly howled at with laughter at the audacity of my request. T'wasn't pretty, people, and I'm not proud of it either. I lost it. Completely flipped out and basically decided that we'd had enough.

The next morning it was time to say sayonara, f*** off Umkulu, we're out of here. The Campfire Index has hit rock bottom, and though we tried our best not to let the Index ruin our trip (and really, it didn't...we truly enjoyed everything we did and saw), enough was enough. Maybe we weren't cut out for overlanding. Maybe we're too old, too sensitive or just expect too much.

But thanks all the same, we'll make our own way to Victoria Falls.

Da End.

Psst. Check back to find out what happens to us!

Howzit!

Ugh, we must sound like broken records, but South Africa is simply amazing. It's the last few days of our stay in Cape Town and for the most part, this is it for us and South Africa. Yeah the first few days of our overland safari will still be in South Africa (the rest in Namibia, Botswana and Zimbabwe) and we'll spend a final few days back in Pretoria before heading off to Australia, but Cape Town is more or less our final SA destination. And it is spectacular. For those of you who've been to Boston or San Francisco with their (weather permitting, of course) beautiful harbour views, picture those cities and then just drop a mountain in the middle. Not a huge mountain, but a stunning one nonetheless, with clouds that sweep in and drape the flat, plateau like summit (hence the name, Table Mountain) in a mysterious shroud. We've spent the bulk of our time here running errands, buying wedding rings (dum, dum, da-dum...check back soon for more details on that one) and enjoying being back in a city (lots of movies, shopping). But we have done some cool stuff in between the rain and stormy weather. Tuesday...a tour of the Cape Peninsula, Wednesday...a hike through the botanical gardens and up to the summit of Table Mountain. Here's more...

The Cape Peninsula is the little bit of South Africa that stretches south of Cape Town before finally ending at the Cape of Good Hope. Unfortunately for the people selling souvenirs there, the Cape of Good Hope isn't actually the southern most point on the African continent (a distinction which lies with Cape Agulhas, a few hundred kilometers east of here). It is, however, the point where the Atlantic Ocean and the Indian Ocean join up and do battle and a pretty striking place. We arranged our trip through our hostel, deciding to pay to let someone else show us around rather that renting a car and doing it ourselves. Our first stop was a place called Haut Bay, a short drive down the coast from Cape Town, for a short bay cruise out to see a rock with a bunch of seals. Pretty cool, but if you've seen seals before, well, they're seals. After Haut Bay it was a stop for coastal bike ride, fun but scary as you pretty much have to go on faith that the drivers of passing cars are actually paying attention to your presence. Then it was a picnic lunch on the beach nearer to the end of the peninsula. Lunch itself was nothing to write home about, but our lunch guests certainly were. Seems there are loads and loads of wild baboons in the park who've figured out that where there're cars there're people, and where there're people, there's food. And are they nasty. Screeching and howling they come at you, families of them, to the point where our guide, Louis, had to stand guard with a stick while we ate, waving it at them, throwing things at them, screaming and stomping back at them while they regroup for another 'attack'. According to Louis, a good day for him is any day where the baboons don't get his food. It's a shame because, as they're behaviour so closely resembles humans, you just want to stop and stare at them...but watch out if you're carrying food.

After lunch the baboon saga got even better. Our next stop was the actual end of the peninsula, the Cape of Good Hope. As you can imagine it's extremely touristy, with a big parking lot full of tour buses (including ours), a gift shop and snack stand...and tons more baboons who know where to go for free food. The parking lot is loaded with them, sitting on cars, shitting on cars and generally running amok. As we were getting ready to hike to the point, we watched as an older, more aggressive baboon charged a woman eating an ice cream cone. He jumped on top of her, grabed the ice cream and, with no fear whatsoever, enjoyed his treat no more than two feet away. She eventually found it funny once she realized he only wanted to eat the ice cream and not her, but there was a fairly funny (sorry, frightening) moment as she tumbled backwards under the weight of the attack. The one attack we didn't see, though, sounded even better (as recounted by Louis after we returned from our hike)...man sitting in car with daughter in back, eating fruit from bag, window down. Baboon jumps on his lap, takes food, man screams, jumps out of car leaving girl to fend for herself while the baboon sat calmly eating his prize. I guess it's pretty funny unless it's you. Oh yeah, the girl apparently got herself out of the car on her own...thanks dad.

But we did hike to the Cape of Good Hope, with its amazing rocky beaches and the real feel that you're at the bottom of the world, and from then on it was a quick stop at a place called Simon's Town, home to (surprisingly, to me at least) thousands of...penguins. They're called jackass penguins because of the horrible, donkey-like braying sounds they make. And they just sit under bushes near the sea and by a long row of houses. It was cool, because I've never seen a penguin before, but a bit strange, because you expect penguins to be flopping around on icebergs, not lazing around in the suburbs.

The next day it was on the Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens, tucked into the suburbs behind Table Mountain. The idea of the day was to hike through the gardens and up the back of Table Mountain, taking the cable car back down into Cape Town. Table Mountain is only about 3000 feet high, but manages to get some pretty fierce weather. It seems like no matter how clear the day starts out, the mountain just attracts the clouds and wind, some of which can apparently be pretty dangerous. Little did we know. So, expecting a nice little hike, we set out up the mountain with plenty of wather but, oops, without food. It was an amazing hike, with waterfalls, great views, weird plants (read about Cape Fynbos) and a creepy, errie scene as you walk across the top of the mountain blanketed by clouds. But man were we hungry by the time we reached the top and as we got there, the wind started howling and the cable car siren started screeching to warn that it was closing down for the day due to high winds. So we were lucky enough to barely make the last car down, but we're wondering about that Japanese family that we passed on the way up. It would've sucked to have to walk down as well.

And that, for the most part has been our stay in Cape Town. Check back here for more about our safari.

See ya.

Michael

Wild Coast and the Garden Route--A little background (but man, I'm paraphrasing this from a book, so pleeeaaase don't get all over me if it's incomplete, simplistic or just plain wrong. South African history is really complex, with many sides to every story. I used to think that Middle Eastern history is complicated, but South African history is right up there next to it. Check out the web or Amazon for more).

In the mid 70's, the South African ruling Afrikaner government, in line with and as an extension to the policy of aparthied pursued and enacted the idea of separate black homelands, supposedly self-sufficient and self-governing states on the traditional lands of particular tribal groups. Apparently, the idea was to restrict blacks to these areas (13% of South Africa's total land for 75% of the population), even though these underdeveloped areas had little infrastructure, little industry, and were therefore, mostly incapable of self-sufficiency. Blacks were assigned to one of ten homelands, given citizenship so to speak, and given no rights whatsoever within South Africa itself. They couldn't even come into South Africa without the correct papers and explicit permission. Millions of people were forcibly uprooted and dumpled into homelands that may or may not have had any relationship with their cultural origins.

One of these homelands was the Transkei, mostly located on a sliver of coastal land northeast of Cape Town and southwest of Durban, from the Kei river in the southwest to the Umtamvuna river in the northeast. The best-known part of the Transkei, and certainly the part most appealing to backpackers is the known as the Wild Coast (obviously, the coastal part of the Transkei), so called because it's one of the more rural, undeveloped and largely unspoiled parts of the entire South African coastline. We made two stops on the Wild Coast. First stop: Coffee Bay, second stop: Cintsa.

To get to Coffee Bay, you get dropped off by the Baz Bus at a gas station in the small, inland town of Umtata, from where you get an 80 km ride to the coast. (Oh yeah, we found ourselves a part of history. On the way to Umtata we saw this silvery thing floating in the sky and almost at the same time the guy on the radio said that Steve Fawcett (sp?) was flying his balloon across the Transkei. So hey, cool, we saw him become the first person to fly a balloon solo around the world). Once at Coffee Bay, we checked into our hostel, the Bomvu Paradise backpackers hostel (it's situated on the Bomvu river), and immediately knew we were in for a long stay. The guidebook we're using, a local guide to SA backpacking called Coast-to-Coast, calls Bomvu Paradise a "holistic" hostel. We now know that "holistic" means a damn-noisy-stoners-hostel-and-no-place-for-any-35-year-old-that-wants-a-decent-night's-sleep. It becomes obvious that we're not cool enough to be here as early as the opening tour of the place. First, you're shown the dining area/bar, where you're proudly told about the "space cakes" (i.e., hash brownies) that are on sale...oh yes, they're even served with a very nice custard. From there you're told the rules of the establishment, posted all over the place. Rule number 5 is..."Please don't buy marijuana from the locals. We know the best place to buy it, so ask us." And rule number 8..."Don't smoke marijuana in the house. Smoke it down by campfire rings by the river."

Ok, so at least pot smells nicer than regular cigarettes, so maybe we'll like it here. But it only gets worse. From the incessant drumming at night (they were getting ready for a drumming festival) to the loud staff members waking us up at 7AM every morning by holding full-on conversations in the supply closet right next to our room, we were driven nuts by noise. And what's worse is that half the time we felt like...jeez, maybe we should try to be cooler, you know, feel the "Transkei (I mean Trance Sky) vibe, be wild on the Wild Coast, man". In the end we decided that we're really not that cool and complained like hell, especially about the mandatory 7AM wake up call imposed on us by the staff. The weird thing about it was that we waited three days to complain because we were so worried about being uncool, when in the end, the owner was really pissed off at his staff and was very apologetic. Unfortunately and very uncomfortably, though, he decided to chew out the staff in the dining room right in front of us, even pointing us out us the complainers. But we didn't care that much because they really annoyed us and I felt like sticking my tongue at them in victory, but I decided to be a grown up. Yes, that's me, very mature.

But Coffee Bay wasn't all noise and aggrivation. Staggeringly beautiful coastline and river estuaries, Janna got in a little horse riding while I spent hours sitting in a hammock, enjoying my new favorite outdoor hobby, bird watching...sorry, birding to those of us in the know. I think I've mentioned earlier that before we went to Kruger, I never gave a thought to birds. But Kruger, all of South Africa really, is so blessed with an abundance of natural beauty of all kinds (wild animals, birds, plants, etc.) that you sort of can't help getting caught up and interested. After Kruger, we bought ourselves a bird book and slowly found ourselves trying to identify birds that we've seen. Since then, it's become a full-on hobby, and I think the reason why we're so fascinated is that watching and identifying birds has given us a way to really connect with some of the great things we're seeing. The first few days in Kruger I found myself almost worrying about the best way to enjoy a game park. I mean, you see lots of animals, birds, trees and plants, but until I started taking a more active interest in (in our case) the birds, the whole 'nature' experience just seemed to be a bit of a blur. But lately, I feel more connected to our environment, more interested and more excited about getting out and seeing things. I don't know much about the plants and trees, but there are so many birds here, varied and colorful and interesting, that it's so much more fun just being outside. (Oh, yeah, and it's free! Except for the binocular upgrade we're going to make).

So that was Coffee Bay. The next stop was the Buccaneers Backpackers in a place called Cintsa. Technically not in the Transkei, the people at Buccaneers still say they're part of the Wild Coast, but we don't care, because this place is amazing. A fabulous establishment with loads of bungalows scattered around the woods, great food, loads of free activities and equipment (like canoes you can use on the river for free) and a really, really cool beach. We knew we were in a great place when the first morning we we're woken up early by some sort of banging on the roof, moaning to ourselves about more noisy staff, only to find that a family of vervet monkeys had decided to play in the trees around our bungalow, right outside our window. We spent five days there including one day on a game drive at a nearby private game reserve (a bit lame compared to Kruger, but still fun). Janna spent loads of time sunning on the beach and horse riding while I, again, spent hours sitting, chillin' in complete solitude in the shade near a pond, just watching birds. It's truly amazing how easy it is to spend a day that way. The birds give you something to keep your mind occupied (especially when you're trying to get close enough to get a picture) while the breeze, sun and stillness are infinitely relaxing.

An then it was on to the Garden Route for one stop, in a place called Wilderness and a backpackers called Fairy Knowe. The Garden Route, the coastal section closer to Cape Town, is more built up and more resort-y than the Wild Coast, but the coast is still stunning. Wilderness is much like the name suggests, though fortunately less developed than much of the other parts of the Garden Route and complete with its own national park and really awesome coastline. More hiking and birdwatching in our three days here before catching our final Baz Bus ride to Cape Town.

But more on that later.

Durban and the South Coast--After the Drakensburgs we headed south to the coastal city of Durban. The idea here was to spend about a week recharge our batteries, catch up on emails and journal updates, and find a gym where we could get back some semblence of fitness. This is pretty much what we did and there isn't much to report from Durban itself. We spent the week at a cozy hostel called Home Backpackers (recommended), spending our days going to the local mall, seeing lots of movies (John Q. and Panic Room were pretty good, We Were Soldiers SUCKED!!!!), and bumming around Durban. Janna went to the gym every day, we walked long the beach a few times, we even went to a cheap and cheezy but fun dinner theater, and oh yeah I got some kind of stomach bug (more later).

After Durban we took a short trip down the coast in the direction of Cape Town, stopping for four days at the small village of Umkommas. Umkommas is home to the (apparently) world renowned Aliwal Shoal, famous for its great reef and shipwreck diving. Looking to do more diving, I enrolled in the PADI (international diving association) Advanced Course, which is basically a chance for PADI to suck more money out of you, but essential if you want to dive below 18 meters. The course is five dives, each supposedly having a topic around which you're instructed. Only one of the dives did actually feature real instruction though, the underwater navigation course, in which you're supposed to learn how to use a compass underwater. A real ripoff, though, because instead of taking me out to the Shoal I had to go navigate the dark, murky, freezing waters of a nearby quarry lake. Total pain in the ass. Dives two through five were much more fun, but what I was supposed to be learning in them, I don't know. One was a wreck dive where I was lead around a sunken ship (but not told anything about it). The second was supposed to be a deep dive (below 18 meters, the deepest you're allowed to go with the basic certification) though we didn't even go as deep as we did on the wreck dive. The third and fourth were really useless...boat diving and drift diving. Every dive I've done has been off a boat and most of them have been drift dives. Like I said, PADI money making opportunity. But that said, the dives themselves were really cool. The wreck was awesome and the reef dives were cool too. And I saw my first sharks, 5 or 6 ragged tooth sharks, up-close and personal, and I saw about 30 dolphins swimming just below me. Amazing.

All of this, however, with the aforementioned stomach bug, which basically made the entire stay miserable. I couldn't eat, slept every minute I wasn't diving and probably shouldn't have been diving anyway. When I was actually underwater I felt great, no nausea. But man, the boat ride out to the dive site, the 10 minutes after the boat stops and you get kitted up, and then the time after you get back in the boat were awful.

Once we were done with diving we left Umkommas and headed a bit down the road to another beach spot, Umtentweni. There we basically chilled for 4 days. I found a doctor, got some medicine and got better...I slept A LOT. Janna on the other had, really chilled. She walked the beach every day, got loads of sun and finished something like three major novels. She even went on a whale watching trip while I was sleeping and had some great whale and dolphin sightings. And speaking of whales and dolphins, they're pretty common sightings from the porch of our backpackers hostel...a pair of binoculars and you can see the whales breaching into the air. Really cool.

Not a bad way to spend the day. Here's our new motto..."A bad day not workin' beats a good day workin'."

Next stop the Transkei, also known as the Wild Coast.

Peace.

The Drakensburg Mountains, Part 2, Sani Pass--Stop two along the Baz Bus route towards Durban is Sani Pass in the Southern Drakensburg mountains. A three hour-ish trip from Amphitheater to a small town called Howick and then a 1 1/2 hour shuttle ride (**see PS below) from there back up into the mountains is Sani Pass, an old mountain trading trail into southern Lesotho that now mostly attracts the tourists and thrill seekers. Our place of refuge is Sani Lodge, a quaint and rustic (in other words FREEZING!) backpackers lodge a short drive from Sani Pass itself. We get there late evening-ish having booked a package deal, three nights accommo with two tours thrown in--a day hike into the hills for more San rock paintings and a 4x4 tour over the Pass and into Lesotho (uh oh, here we go again).

A quick discussion of our 'quaint' accommodations. Bloody, god*mn, f***ing FREEZING!

Kriky, I know this is Africa and it's supposed to be warm. I know we're staying in backpacker's accommodations so you can't expect much. But christmas, we're in the mountains and when the winter night time temperature regularly gets down to the freezing mark, maybe you should think about heating the rooms? For three nights Janna and slept in full gear, including wool hats and gloves and stuffed our beds with no fewer than four hotwater bottles filled with boiling water (we have a new found appreciation for the hotwater bottle, so beloved by the British). And on top of that, the bathrooms and showers were all open air...brrrrrrrrr. Damn!

Anyway, on to the activities. Day one was a fantastic guided day hike up into the surrounding hills to see some cave paintings. With all due respect to our guide, Nikko, and to anyone else who finds them interesting, I think Janna and I were mostly just stoked by the chance to get in a good hard walk, and found very little interesting about the paintings. To Nikko's credit, he did try to tell us a lot of the history behind the paintings and what each one meant, but they really weren't that interesting. But it was a great hike, with a great view and great exercise, which as far as I'm concerned makes it a great day.

Day two was our 4x4 trip into Lesotho over Sani Pass with our guide for the day, Stuart. Figuring that since we'd already had one messed up Lesotho 4x4 trip, this one must go smoothly. Wrong. Once again started off great. The first hour of the drive takes you the length of this valley--absolutely gorgeous--and up a bit of elevation (I think we climbed something like 1000-1500 meters in the first part). At the end of the valley the edges close in and the only way over is via a series of switchbacks, two-thirds of which are above the snow line (all accumulated the previous night), this being the actual Sani Pass. Because of the snow and ice, this is serious 4x4'ing. Not the kind we city people do when we drive into the country on a fishing trip, but the kind where you really need to know what you're doing. Because if you don't know what you're doing, you get stuck. Seriously stuck. Which is exactly what happened to the person in front of us, meaning we were stuck too. So there we are waiting in the snow while Stuart is trying to un-stick the truck in front of us, until finally he comes back and suggests that we hike to the top of the pass where the border is, along with the highest pub in Africa, the Sani Top Chalet.

So ok, it's another Lesotho 4x4 adventure and we're game. We head up the 8 to 10 remaining switchbacks, fighting the wind, ice and ankle-high snow and finally make it to the Chalet. It was hard work but it felt great, mostly because it was really beautiful and it was short. It took us only about a half an hour to get to the top...any more would have started getting annoying...and once inside the Chalet we were rewarded with the best tasting hot chocolate EVER! Ok, it probably seemed like the best only because we were friggin cold, but it was still pretty great.

After an hour of waiting around, Stuart finally made it to the top, without our 4x4...he never got past the stuck vehicle. All fine with us because we'd seen Lesotho and didn't need to go any further, and besides, the World Cup was on and we were quite toasty, probably on our third hot chocolate by then. So eventually we walked back down the switchbacks, found our vehicle and headed back to the nearby Sani Pass Hotel (a 1/2 km away from our lodge). There we settled into the bar and watch the USA get trounced by Poland but still make it into the next round. Now that's a perfect day...exciting African mountain adventure followed by sports!

And that was our stay in Sani Pass.

** P.S. If you ever do go to Sani Lodge (highly recommended), find some way of getting to the Lodge to/from Howick-Pietermaritzburg (where the Baz Bus lets you off) other than Sani Pass Carriers (the shuttle service recommended by Sani Lodge). They're crap and we found them expensive and worst of all, dangerous. They basically make most of their money carting dry goods around...people transport is only extra income. At best you'll have an experience like ours...you'll get chucked in the back of a pickup truck with 50kg bags of salt...no seatbelts and the seats aren't even bolted down. At worst you'll have an experience like someone else we met...a blown tire at 100km/hour followed by a fire. Rent a car or find some other form of shuttle.

The Drakensburg Mountains, Part 1, Amphitheater Backpackers--After a few more days in Pretoria, with Janna recovering nicely from her eye surgery, it was time to hit the road and become backpackers again. We said our sad farewells to Steven and Patty who'd been so gracious and helpful to us over the past three weeks. Steven even offered us a spot on his upcoming Zimbabwe safari, which would have been amazing but would have required us to get all the way from Zimbabwe to Cape Town (for our overland safari, already booked) way too quickly. Hoping to avoid the problems of too-much-distance/too-little-time that plagued us in Europe, we decided to pass on Zimbabwe and take the full five weeks available to us to make our leisurely way to Cape Town. We booked ourselves tickets on the Baz Bus, the hop-on/hop-off service that brings you the length of the South Africa backpacker route--from Pretoria via Durban to Cape Town--and hit the road.

Our first week of Baz Bus-ing would be spent in the Drakensburg Mountains, running roughly north to south from Jo'burg/Pretoria down towards Durban along the eastern edge of the tiny mountain country of Lesotho. The first stop in the Drakensburgs was the Amphitheater Backpackers (a "backpacker" is the South African equivalent of a youth hostel, budget accommodations for independent travelers), so-called because of its being perched at the edge of a strikingly beautiful gorge, as if putting it all on display for you. Upon arrival, you're given the lay of the land and shown all of the hikes and tours that are on offer for little or no money. We booked ourselves on a guided tour of Lesotho for our second day and then spent the rest of the first day hiking to the top of a nearby rock escarpment with Pipi, the resident terrier. No taller than my shins, I've never seen a dog with more energy. The minute he realized we were getting ready to go hiking, and he somehow seemed to know before we did, we was bounding around like a kid waiting for his parents to come downstairs on Christmas morning. Once we started walking Pipi would dart yards and yards ahead of us, coming back occasionally to see that we were still with him before tearing off again. Then he would catch sight of something off in the grass and go chasing after it. But because the grass was taller than him, he would bound along like an antelope...boing, boing, boing. It was the funniest free entertainment I think I've ever had. I tried getting pictures of him hopping around and I hope they come out because it was truly hysterical.

The next day it was time for our 4x4 tour of Lesotho (pronounced "Le-su-too") so we loaded into the truck with our guide, a young Zulu named Puom, and two other backpackers. After about an hour of the rockiest, axle snapping-est, bowel juggling-est mountain roads I've ever been on we finally arrived across the border into Lesotho. A land that time forgot is a cliche that actually works here. Extremely rural and very poor, the people nevertheless smiled and waved warmly as we passed by. We eventually picked up the second half of our guide team, Power, a local school teacher, and began our tour. Among the sites of the day were a visit to Power's school, a short hike to see some cave paintings reportedly painted over 900 years ago by the indigenous San tribe (also called Bushmen). We also stopped in on a local medicine woman (Sangoma is the offical term, just don't call her a witch doctor) to hear about her life and her work. From there it was on to the home of some locals for an 'authentic' Lesotho meal. This was pretty bizarre. We showed up, said our awkward hellos and went inside. There, our group all sat against one wall as our hosts handed us a plate of what basically was corn grits and cabbage. They stared at us while we ate (or in my case, forced down) our meal, mostly in silence but with the occasional feigned "mmmm, yum", and then we left. We did get to see the inside of their home, so in that sense it was a peek into their lives, but it felt mostly like we were on display, which I guess is fair enough considering I spent most of the day feeling like I was at the zoo, viewing the strange and mysterious Lesoto people through the windows of our Land Rover.

Anyway,, from there it was on to our final stop, a local watering hole (or shebeen)--a dark, dingy, depressing hut where the local drunks sit in silence passing around a communal cup of some homemade alcoholic concoction. A taste of local culture I didn't really need, but I guess it's part of the experience. But it wasn't until after we left the shebeen that things got interesting. We exited the dark hut into the late afternoon sun and started climbing the hill to our 4x4 and found our guides plus about 10 other locals staring and debating over the state of our left front tire. Seems we had a flat. Do we have a spare? Yep. Then what's the problem? Well the problem, you see, is that there's a security lugnut on each wheel designed to stop thieves from making off with your tires, which are also remarkably effective in stopping you from changing a flat if you DON'T HAVE THE KEY!!! Which was apparently the situation our guides found themselves in. Meanwhile, a quick look at the watch says it's about 3:30 in the afternoon and the key element to the whole story here is that the border checkpoint closes at 4:00, potentially trapping us in Lesotho for the night.

Taking all of this information in stride (being the calm, cool travelers that we are), we hung out for a while having attracted the attention of a dozen or so school children who seemed to find us endlessly fascinating. We played with them for a while until our guides decided it was time to make our way (somehow) to the border (even though it was closed). So we walked a bit, caught a ride on the back of a tractor for a bit and even convinced the local police to drive us part of the way, until we finally arrived at the very closed, very forbidding border checkpoint. By this point it is very dark and damn cold (remember, it's winter here and we're in the mountains) and Janna and I are wearing every layer we own as our guides mysteriously slip around the fence leaving us waiting by the gate. Then somehow they show up again on the other side of the fence and we stand watching (and freezing) for another half an hour as Puom and Power work their charm on the clearly annoyed border guards. Somehow, eventually, they manage to pursuade the guards to process are re-entry (yea!) and call the hostel owners who come and rescue us about an hour later.

Just like in our drive through Mozambique, it was an adventure, but the line between a exciting and interesting adventure and a really miserable day was a thin one. But, we managed to stay on the right side of that line again this time so, hey, exciting and interesting adventure!

Check back for more about our adventures in the Southern Drakensburgs.

Later.

We're getting ready to hit the road again, but here's what happened after we returned to Pretoria. We spent another week there, for the most part because before leaving for Kruger and Moz, we'd booked Janna in for LASIK laser eye surgery at the Pretoria Eye Institute. Originally we'd planned to do it in the UK before leaving, but got talked into waiting until South Africa by a whole host of people familiar with the quality of South African medical care. South Africa is reputed to have a level of health care similar to that of the US and the UK, a fact confirmed to us the Janna's UK optician, but with the Rand (SA's currency) in the dumps, the surgery wound up a full 1/4 of the price of the UK or US. Certainly you don't shop bargains for eye surgery, but with all of the evidence we were given, it seemed silly not to wait until we got here.

Our friend Steven had set up a consultation for the day after we arrived in South Africa and on that day, after confirming that Janna was a candidate for the surgery, we book the real deal for the Thursday after returning to Pretoria. Before Thursday, though, we still had some unfinished scuba business to get through, and on Wednesday we saddled up and hit the road with our instructor to Miracle Waters, a quarry hole filled with water and used by local scuba schools for certifications. The water was ice!!! cold and we made it through 1/2 of a dive before Janna's ears started giving her problems, again scuttling her attempt at certification. While she was sitting in the car with one of the instructors, I was below with other finishing off my last two dives and finally getting my certification. Yea! But it was f***ing freezing Mr. Bigglesworth.

The next day was the big surgery day and it went off without a hitch. Janna was done two hours after we arrived and the next day we went back to the doctor and they removed the protective eye patches she'd worn throughout the previous day and night. Perfect results very little discomfort, much less than others we know experienced, and only a little blurring which went away after the first few days or so. I really must have been amazing for her, being given the gift of sight, and I don't think I'll ever forget how she giggled with delight the first time she looked out of the bedroom window, able to see with out glasses. Pure magic.

We're leaving Pretoria tomorrow, so check in later to hear what happens next.

On Friday afternoon, after our amazing trip to Kruger, we headed east into Mozambique for a weekend of diving, hoping to get both of our certifications. This was certainly one of the most fascinating parts of our trip so far, if only because it was here for the first time that we saw third-world Africa. Up until this point, we'd mostly been exposed to the shopping malls of Pretoria and the wild animals of the game parks, bypassing the rural black areas. Mozambique, a country scarred by years of civil war, and admittedly one which I know little about, was our first taste of the third-world that you see on television.

We first sensed the differences at the border crossing. Our first African border checkpoint was at Johannesburg Airport and not too different than what you find at Heathrow or O'Hare…fill out your form, wait in line for immigration and then go get your luggage. Driving into Mozambique, however, was a different ballgame altogether. First you leave South Africa by getting out of your car and taking your passport into the immigration office. Pretty smooth and orderly. Then you drive 100-200 meters up the road through no-man’s land to the Mozambique immigration office. There you also get out of your car and take your passports into the immigration office, but things work a little differently here. First, since we didn't have visa beforehand, we had to apply and pay for them at immigration office. While paperwork and bureaucracy can be daunting anywhere, here it was doubly so because there are no signs telling you what to do, only loads of unofficially dressed men offering 'advice' and assistance on filling out the forms. The man who helped us fill in our visa applications reeked of alcohol and smelled as if he'd never seen a bath, but we were compelled to take his advice, not free of charge mind you, or run the risk of an 'accidentally misplaced' visa application. We were never sure if the price we were quoted for a visa was the official price, nor were we sure, frankly, that we'd ever see our passports again. Eventually, though, our passports did resurface complete with a Mozambique tourist visa. As you can imagine, the amount we tried to tip our 'friend' wasn't what he was expecting (another lesson learned…establish the price for services at the beginning) and we found ourselves arguing with him as we left. Fortunately for us, we had Steven to show us the ropes, and he managed to send the guy off without too much fuss.

From there we had the long ride to Ponta da Ouro, the southern most coastal point in Mozambique, the idea being to check into our cabana, meet up with our dive instructor for drinks before hitting the water in the morning. We'd taken our time leaving Kruger (see last posting about the pissed-off elephant blocking the road) and now, as we'd only made it through the border post at around 4pm, found ourselves face-to-face with a 4 hour drive through crazy Mozambique 'highways' in the dark (it's winter here, don't forget, and it gets dark around 5pm). As it turned out, the drive to Ponta turned out to be quite an amazing experience. And though it always felt safe, the line between an exciting, thrilling experience and a frustrating, scary experience was thin at best. Southern Mozambique is sparsely populated and, as the civil war ended less than a decade before, the resort-like possibilities of the area are only starting to be exploited. Though certainly part of the appeal of Southern Mozambique, this and the fact that most people going to the area (Ponta do Ouro and nearby Ponta Malongane—mostly divers and the like) travel from the south and not from nort—like we did—means that there hasn't been much emphasis on building up the roads between Maputo (the capital) in the north and Ponta. What we're basically talking about is 60km of 4x4 driving over undulating sand roads, with no people, no service stations, no McDonalds and the only way to know you're going the right way is by following the southern cross in the night sky. We saw maybe five other cars during the entire four hour drive and averaged about 15 km/hour, mostly in first gear. Occasionally the road would fork mysteriously, though in the end the different paths always merged again…there are no other roads there, just the one. Like I said, it was an exhilarating, exciting and certainly unusual experience (I'm sure I've never been that far away from other people before), but a busted axle or blown somtin-er-oter and it quickly would have turned into a great big, scuba-school-scuttling pain in the back side.

But it wasn't.

And we made it safe and sound, eventually finding our way to our bungalow, which was nicely perched less than 100 feet from the beach, complete with brown non-potable water and more than a few zillion ants and roaches. But hey, this is the other side of the world and we're here to dive. So dive we did the next morning, waking up at 6am to make our way to the dive school, get kitted up, on to the boat and out to the reefs of the Indian Ocean. This was the last phase of our PADI Open Water scuba certification course, 4 dives in the open water (following the coursework and swimming pool dives we did in London) swimming around with the instructor, showing that you can master the necessary skills. Unfortunately Janna, who was at best nervous about diving though willing to try, had a rough go on our first dive. When she went in the water, which was pretty choppy, she immediately lost her fins (too big) and after recovering them, never really got comfortable. We were led around by Jerry the Dive Instructor and our friend Steven and avid diver and the Dive Master on our dive, over and around the coral reefs, before returning to the boat to show a few surface skills like removing and re-donning your weightbelt and tank, snorkel usage and compass navigation.

Once we got in the back in the boat, though, Janna decided she'd had enough (I loved it, though) and wasn't going to continue. Over lunch, she was talked back into trying to finish the certification by the lot of us and gamely gave it a good go on the second dive, but was set back by another problem. For those of you that don't dive, as you decend in the water you need be able to equalize the pressure in your ears by holding your nose and blowing (like on an airplane). You can't do that if you're congested and it turns out that Janna wasn't as over the cold she’d caught earlier as she thought. Early in the second dive she found that she couldn't equalize and had to get out of the water, freezing her butt off in the boat while waiting for the rest of us to finish our dives. I, however, had a wonderful dive and for the first time was able to settle in, relax and just enjoy the feeling of being underwater.

But unfortunately, dives three and four on Sunday were not to happen as stormy seas forced us to postpone until later...apparently there's a lake near Pretoria we can finish our last two dives in. So instead, the four of us (Steven, Patty, Janna and I) packed up our food, hopped in the 4x4 and drove up the road to another dive resort, Ponta Malongane, for a bit of a braii (the Afrikaner word for BBQ...and I thought Americans liked BBQs!) and a few drinks. While there, Janna and I had a chance to take a walk up and down the beach, the most remote, unspoiled beach I’ve ever been on, overlooking the Indian Ocean. After our braii, we made our way back to Ponta, stopping to watch a brush fire raging at the side of the road (apparently very common, and we’ve got pictures).

The following day, on the way back to Pretoria—we went south, the easy way—we took a detour immediately after re-entering South Africa, visiting Kozi Bay, a nature reserve and wetlands in Zulu country. Getting to the mouth of the bay required more 4x4 driving which took us through more of rural Africa, and at every turn we were greeted by kids running after us screaming “sweeeeets” and “lift” (before hopping on the back of our truck for a bit of a joy ride). We even visited a couple of local grocery shops along the way, which gave us a little more insight into the way the locals live.

After Kozi Bay it was pretty much a straight shot back to Pretoria for our last week there before heading off on more adventure.

Tuesday 28th May. Patty, Steven, Michael and I set out in Steven's 4x4 pickup for the Satara campsite in Kruger National Park, about six hours north-by-northeast of Pretoria. Just in time, we made it to the campsite gates -- they close promptly at 5:30pm, when darkness begins to settle, and the hyenas begin their nightly patrol round the edges of the enclosure, stretching their evil grins wide. Yikes! Satara's ranger-on-duty that evening, Anne-Marie -- a formidable woman remarkably like Nurse Ratched, with a roaring libido thrown in for good measure -- spent much of her shift telling us naturalist horror stories such as the one about hyenas getting inside the fencing and dragging a drunk tourist away in his sleeping bag. All sorts of stuff on that order. Well, she regaled Steven and his pals Vincent and Alfred (who'd made their own way to Kruger) with the tales, in Afrikaans. These the men duly translated for Michael and Patty and me. As a bonus, they also relayed all the Peyton Place gossip she so incontinently spilled. If Anne-Marie is to be believed, Kruger National Park is a hotbed of illicit inter-ranger ACTION!!! This shocking revelation put me in mind of an AIDS-awareness slogan propounded in a music video here: "The SEX IMPULSE is like a FIERY HORSE. UNCONTROLLED, it can be DESTRUCTIVE and DANGEROUS." Take heed, Game Ranger Anne-Marie!

That night, indeed every night in Kruger, we booked a night drive. At dusk a ranger takes you out in an open safari truck equipped with two big spotlights for scanning the bush. You can take flash photography -- until the animal gets irked and the ranger tells you to cut it out. What you're never supposed to do is to "break the unit", i.e., lean way out of the truck and break its line. Such behaviour could, say, alert a nearby lioness to your organic presence. On the drive, you look for movement and for reflected eyes -- just like seeing housecat peepers in your headlights as you pull into your driveway at home. The rangers (not to mention our S.A. friends) have a really good eye for spotting game, so every drive was totally jackpot. Included in the first night's visual booty were:
*giraffe, commonly seen on the road ahead, and hustling off into the bush. The way they combine gawkiness with grace is a neverending wonder
*an indulgent mama hyena and her two cubs, who disported themselves right by the side of the road, only a few feet away from the truck
*a lioness and her two children taking a late sup around a huge warthog-head carcass
But the aforementioned is just a small sample of what we saw. With apologies to our European friends, getting a glimpse of the great wildlife of Africa far exceeds any experiences Deep and I had in the northern hemisphere. Perhaps because it's so very different from anything we've seen before. For me, the ultimate ultimate happened on day four, our final day in Kruger. Steven and Patty and DD and I were driving along, doo-bee-doo, when up in the road ahead, stealing a bit of warmth from the tarmac, was a male lion in all his tawny-fringed magnificence. Wowee. Hastily rolling up the windows, we pulled up next to him. Pulled up closer, dared to roll down the windows. Watched while he sleepily checked us out, looked bored, flopped over for a catnap. We leaned out to gawp, brazenly breaking the unit. (No need for alarm, mother and father! He was so sleepy he couldn't be bothered to eat us up.) So we continued to watch, thrilled -- taking closeup photographs all the while -- as he licked his paws and gave his nose a good wash, just like anycat; as he yawned and rolled over, getting a nice back scratch from the road while he was at it; as he shook his great heavy head; as he slowly blinked and surveyed all of which he was master, including us. Almost like watching my beloved cat Ruthie, but with the added element of fear at pants-pooping levels. Every movement (no pun intended) was a consummate display of grace, every look revealed a new, heartrending expression. Michael, can we take the puddy tat home? Can we? Can we huh?

And how lucky we were to have Patty and Steven as our dayguides! Both are keen gamespotters, and Steven can tell stories till well after the cows come home, which makes driving around in the hot sun all day palatable enough. Among my favourite tales were those recounting the daring exploits of his own grandfather, a great hunter. (I hope you don't mind my sharing them, Steven -- and forgive me for ill representing your unique voice and sense of humour.) Once upon a time, Grandfather Van Zyl was confronted by two snarling lions. Surely this would be the end of him, but no! Raising his gun, he took his pocketknife in his left hand and centred the blade before the muzzle. Bang! The bullet split in two, of course ... and he killed both lions at once.

On another occasion, Grandfather ran out of bullets when he was hot on the trail of a great kudu. Fortunately, he happened to be eating a peach at the time, so he put the pit in the barrel and aimed it right between the beast's eyes. The improvised bullet hit its mark, but the kudu still managed to flee ... Four years later. Grandfather was on the hunt again in the same area. Feeling hungry, he went to pick fruit from a nearby peach tree ... and the tree ran away.

Not only were we treated to true-life ancestral tales such as the aforementioned, but we also got lots of high-hilarity, specialized gamepark jokes. Like to hear one? Okay! Once it was so hot in the northern part of Kruger, a lion was chasing an impala -- and they both walked. Thanks, folks, I'm here all week! Don't forget to tip the waitresses!

It was in Kruger during the occasional longueurs between big game sightings that Michael and I unexpectedly acquired an exciting and brand-new hobby -- birdwatching! You may ask yourself, how is Michael able to walk around peering through binoculars, a birdy guidebook sticking out of his pants pocket, and still maintain his eminent coolness and virility? I don't know! Both of us are now avid birdwatchers, searching the skies not only for colourful items such as the lilac-breasted roller and the malachite kingfisher, but for the LBJs as well -- the Little Brown Jobs. Deep has been taking some beautiful photographs, which you can check out on the notworkin.com photo album. I only wish that Uncle George (dad's brother) and Grandpa Butler (mom's dad), bird lovers both, were still around to share their wisdom, and our wonder.

Having seen rhino days earlier at Vincent's game reserve, we were able to complete our Big Five checklist in Kruger: lion, buffalo, leopard, and elephant. The Big Five are those game animals considered the most dangerous to hunters. And what of crocodile, hippo, the dreaded black mamba snake, wildebeest, baboon, the vervet monkey with its blue ballies and clinging babies, warthog (such a funny, bouncy trot have they!), cheetah, steenbok, zebra, not to mention all the other kinds of birds, smaller mammals, trees, and brush? We saw them all, and each has a story. If you like, when we get home we'll tell you lots more over a few pre-paid drinks. Alternatively, we'll agree to shut up for a brewski or two.

I leave you with our great adventure. As we left Kruger, we were pursued by a young male elephant "in full musk" -- i.e., quite desperate for the company of a ladyfriend. This is a state of great frustration, and of great oversensitivity to gawping tourists who drive up really close to get a good look at you peeing stinkily down the back of your legs (a symptom of his full-muskitude). Which we duly did. So the poor elephant gets tad irascible. He begins to chase us, bomp, bomp, bomp! with his impossible heavy legs, slowly building speed. "Steven! Drive!" we yell. But Steven's too cool to scram posthaste. The elephant exhibits his fury: snorting, flapping his ears, shaking his head, swinging his trunk in great wide arcs! And he's practically cantering! "Steven! He's moving fast!" Steven's laughing. We are too, when we're not screaming. In order to make our escape, we have to cross a river, where we could easily get stuck in mud or rocks. "Please! He's right behind us!" Finally Steven gets us across the water and, miraculously, the elephant isn't in the mood to go wading. He stops still, staring after us balefully. It takes just a minute before he tires of us, however, and turns his attention to a little reservoir by the river. Delicately dipping his trunk into the water, he sucks up a good amount and whoosh! sprays it over his back, just like us city folks have seen in the cartoons. It was totally Nature in Action! What a way to end our Kruger experience. Check out the hot pix of this near-death experience (heh heh, not really, mom and dad!) in the photo album.

And so to Mozambique.

Love,
Janna

One week into our stay in Africa and we're finally getting a chance to post some of what we've been up to. It's been an amazing week, this even though we really haven't done much of anything compared with what's to come. That is, of course, if you count standing 15 feet away from two enormous white rhinos as doing nothing. Or if you count standing in a clearing with big hippos and a baby hippo bathing on one side, and two gorgeous antelope on the other side, as doing nothing.

But I'm giving it all away. Let me start from the beginning.

For those of you that don't know, we're staying here in Pretoria, about an hour northwest of Johannesburg with our friends Patty and Steven. I know Patty from my Chicago swing-dancing days and she's been on her own around-the-world trip for the past year. While she was traveling she met Steven, a Pretorian, and has been spending some time here with him soaking in the sun and the local culture. When I got in touch with Patty and told her we were thinking about coming to South Africa, they invited us to come down and visit, even helping us to plan a lot of the events we have coming up in the next few months.

With the exception of Saturday, which I’ll get to in a moment, our first week here hasn’t exactly been much of what you’d call a stereotypical African adventure. Pretoria, along with many of the larger cities in South Africa, is a very modern place. Divided highways, strip malls, high schools, golf courses and restaurants make up the Pretorian ecosystem. This week has found us mostly relaxing by the pool or in front of the TV, shopping for essentials, dining out and even a seeing a movie (Spiderman rules!) down at the local shopping mall. Ah, but there are differences.

For all of the modern first-world infrastructure and conveniences, South Africa is still South Africa. A country less than 10 years removed from the apartheid days, there are constant reminders of white minority rule over a black and mixed race majority. Race and the issues surrounding race and racism are always and everywhere at the forefront of the local landscape. You see it driving down the road as you realize that the only people walking or waiting for a bus are black. You see it in every shop, service station, fast-food joint and even homes in the way the South African economy is built on the availability of cheap black labor. This issue is so fresh, current and real that it’s never far away in any conversation and even stirs the conscience about conditions in your own country.

And it’s an issue made all the more interesting in that our host and all of the acquaintances we’ve made through him have opened up and shared much of their thoughts, opinions and experiences with us. Steven has been incredibly honest, open and helpful in teaching us the good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly sides of South Africa and its history. From the damage caused by apartheid and the intricacies of the current social conditions to the beauty and magic of South Africa’s natural wonders, Janna and I both feel lucky to have him as our guide over the past few days.

So what have we been doing?

Well, we arrived on Tuesday morning completely exhausted by the 11-hour plane ride from London and spent the day mostly relaxing and resting in Steven’s rented house. Oh yeah, two weeks before we arrived, Steven’s own house burned to the ground in a freak gas heater explosion that we’ve been told both he and Patty valiantly tried fighting (they even threw an armchair at it) before giving up and escaping out the back. On Wednesday we even got to see the charred remnants and helped recover some of his surviving property (don’t tell his insurance adjuster). Thursday and Friday was mostly spent hanging out, the highlight of which was a restaurant that serves all kinds of game meats. We tried rhino, hippo, elephant, crocodile, ostrich, zebra and buffalo. None of it was very good (well, it sure didn’t taste like chicken) and apparently they’re not endangered either, because there didn’t seem to be any police or animal rights activists trying to close the restaurant down.

The best part of the week, already alluded to, was our trip to a private game reserve owned by Steven’s friend Vincent. About an hour drive outside of Pretoria, we drove out on Saturday and spent the night in a couple of bungalows overlooking the game park. After we arrived, we set off on the back of Vincent’s pickup truck on our first African game drive. After about an hour’s driving we’d seen hippos, zebra, ostrich, warthogs, and various forms of antelope including impala. But the most amazing sighting was the two huge white rhinos standing (and stamping and snorting testily, when provoked by Vincent—yikes!) by the side of the road less than 15 feet away from our truck. We got loads of pictures of them so stay tuned.

But the rhino should be just the beginning. Next week, we’re headed off to Kruger National Park, the largest game reserve in South Africa, where we’re sure to see the Big 5 (lion, elephant, rhino, leopard and buffalo) and lots more. We’ll be there for 3 days and then we’ll head down to the coast of Mozambique to finish off our scuba certifications and experience some serious African culture.

Till then.

Michael