So much to write about!
South Africa was amazing. We spent the first few days in and around Johannesburg, seeing family and friends, and catching up with life and all its changes. J hasn’t been back to SA in about two years, so there were lots of reunions. We spent a lot of time in and around Edenvale, which is where J grew up, and where a lot of his friends still live. We did errands and visited old haunts and had lazy lunches, while I tried to get a tan between air-conditioned destinations. We went to visit J’s Ouma (grandmother) and her family, and hung out all afternoon in the backyard playing cricket and jumping in the pool.
We spent our first weekend with J’s sisters and their families, staying by them overnight, the adults staying up drinking and talking, while 3 kiddies ran amok around their legs. We spent the next day at a nature reserve, which gave me my first taste of real African wildlife – lions and kudu and warthogs, oh my! We drove around the game area in a hot thick cloud of red dust, spotting animals shaded in the bushes, and being slightly disappointed they seemed more interested in staying cool than posing for action shots. We went into the nearby cave, which provided welcome relief from the heat, and stunning displays of stalactites and stalagmites, delicate yet massive. The best experience by far, however, was the opportunity to interact with lion and tiger cubs – like playful kittens (chewing on shoes, mock-fighting) but you can feel the latent power behind their oversized paws, and you can truly appreciate the incredible strength and agility they will have as full grown cats, when they will stalk their prey and swiftly go in for the kill. Unbelievable.
We had a low-key Valentine’s Day – our first, and I reminisced about the V-day exactly one year ago when our mutual friends were so persistent in trying to get the two of us together that they phoned me dozens of times during the evening while I was out at a party, and I finally agreed they could give him my number. The rest, as they say, is history. We spent the evening by a lake, having drinks and seafood and coffee in the warm evening breeze, talking about the past year and looking forward to the wedding.
We visited J’s Ouma Lina and Oupa Johnny at the care home where they now live – Oupa Johnny now 91 and senile, Ouma Lina 20 years younger, but with Alzheimer’s. They remain dignified and well looked after, and even though they hadn’t seen J in more than 5 years, they still remembered tales from when he was young, and were delighted to see their grandson.
Finally it was time to leave for Cape Town, as we were going down a few days before the actual wedding. It’s a loooong drive. 1500 km, which is about 14 hours driving straight through. We set out at 2am, watched the sun rise in the rear-view mirror, and spent many hours driving through the karoo – not quite desert, but not far off, with endless stretches of barren scrub landscape and only the smallest blink-and-you’ll-miss-it towns every few hours to break up the monotony. Yet this is the area the first intrepid Dutch farmers chose to settle, scrabbling an existence from the hard dry earth, and defending their homesteads during the Anglo-Boer War. My left arm burned in the passenger window, my back soaked with sweat. After an eternity, we came into the wine valley regions, with acres of vineyards and lush greenery nestled between the mountains. And finally, we hit Cape Town – with white sand beaches stretching all along the coast, and Table Mountain towering over the city below. We had a fantastic view from the balcony of our flat on Bloubergstrand, and it was easy to see this was the perfect setting for our wedding. We spent some time at the Victoria and Albert Waterfront before J’s family arrive (some driving, some flying), and then we all had a boerewors (traditional sausage) braai (bbq). The next day we took a drive out to the opposite side of the Cape, while the kiddies went to the seashore. We drove up Chapman’s Peak, past stunning views (and residences) along False Bay, stopping in the quaint fishing village of Hout Bay for some fish and chips and seal watching.
The next day was *the* day. We made a few phone calls and did some last minute errands during the morning – picked up flowers, picked up “something borrowed”, made copies of passports. I had waves of nervousness whenever I was standing still – general anxiety about a big event. One of my fears was allayed, however – the day was bright and *calm* (the previous few days having been extremely windy). We went back to the b&b in the afternoon and got ready – the minute I got dressed, all my nervousness disappeared, and I began to enjoy the beautiful weather and the anticipation. We arrived at the restaurant, with friends, family and minister following shortly after, and everyone had a drink while we discussed last minute details and did paperwork.
It was time – we all went down to the small patio adjacent to the rocks and waves. And there, with the sun setting, the mountain backdrop, the sound of the ocean, and J’s hand in mine… we got married. There was laughter and tears. We each wrote our own vows. It was beautiful and intimate and elegant and perfect, and I couldn’t have wished for anything better.
After the ceremony, everyone sat down to a gorgeous dinner, and free-flowing wine. A few brave souls made speeches. Kids ran haywire among the rocks. Everyone stayed into the evening, and left giddy and tired.
On our way out of Cape Town, the following morning, we headed across the peninsula to Boulder’s Beach in Simon’s Town on a special mission (for me) to see the penguin colony which lives there. It was hilariously entertaining, and I fell in love with the chubby, awkward little creatures. They may be effortlessly graceful in the water, but they are a live comedy act when on land. They were so close, I could’ve put one in my pocket if I wanted (and I did want to!) I must’ve peed myself laughing at how they hop/plop off rocks, or when they try to belly flop into the water but the tide goes out and leaves them face-down in the sand. And watching them try to climb over twigs and bushes was eye-wateringly funny. I really, really did love the penguins.
We drove to Mossel Bay, stopping off for lunch in Hermanus, which is famously the town where the whales come into the harbour from Sept. to Jan. We arrived in Mossel Bay, having made a last minute reservation at a b&b, which turned out to be a fabulously plush suite. We had a candlelight dinner on the deck overlooking the ocean, which was lovely and romantic, until the mosquitoes and spiders drove us indoors.
The next day was a bit overcast, so we didn’t hang around, but headed for Knysna, hoping for sun. A two hour drive turned into much longer – the scenery was absolutely dazzling and we stopped frequently to take pictures and explore. Scenic beaches on one side, dramatically green mountains and valleys to the other. Lagoons and gorges, crashing surf and blinding sun. We stopped in Victoria Bay to see the surfing, climbing around amongst the tide-pools playing with hermit crabs and looking for octopus. We stopped in Wilderness to detour through the lagoons and quaint houses. We stopped in Sedgefield to gaze out on the lakes and the Tsitsikamma forest. We arrived in Knysna in the afternoon, checking into our little lodges built to resemble treehouses. We drove out to the Knysna Heads, watching the tide come in crashing at the rocks. We went to the waterfront and had drinks while watching the sun set into a tangle of masts and glassy pools. We went to the beach and I got painfully burned on the back of the knees. We bathed in giant Victorian tubs screened by leafy branches. We had fine traditional South African cuisine, and we had too much Nando’s chicken till our bellies hurt.
We finally had to leave Kynsna, heading for Addo Elephant Park, via Port Elizabeth. I had signed up for a bungee jump off the Bloukrans Bridge – the highest fixed-point bungee jump in the world. I figured, if you’re going to jump, then *jump*. 216 metres is a pretty big jump. I was really excited to do it, but by the time we arrived, we were running out of time – it became a choice of bungee jumping, or elephants. There was no contest – I came to Africa to see elephants, though I was mightily disappointed when we drove away.
We arrived at Addo, and I could barely contain myself. We immediately headed out to the game area and I was straining my eyes for the elephants. There are 400 of them in the park, however they have roughly 150,000 hectares to spread out in, which means if they want to be elusive, they can. Cursing the wandering nature of, well…nature, we saw plenty of kudu and rooi hartebees, eland and zebras, when suddenly, we came around a corner and there they were.
Mama and baby, less than 3 metres away – just sitting there placidly munching, looking straight at me, as if they had been waiting for me to show up. They were gorgeous, just unbelievably beautiful. These giant, sensitive creatures fascinate me like no other, and to see them in their natural environment, (as much “in the wild” as they can be now, and still be protected) was a dream come true. Not behind zoo bars, not with someone riding on their back, but free to roam, and live among other animals. When we finally left the pair, we saw a small herd across a large field, when suddenly they broke into a run. Why, was unclear – the only thing in the area was a pair of fighting warthogs. But seeing a herd of elephants take off is quite a sight.
We spent several more hours driving – on the lookout for the lions and black rhino, but they’re notoriously difficult to spot, and we fared no better. We had dinner and returned to the rondavel to watch the watering hole just outside. Rondavels are basically straw huts, and while this was a nice rondavel, it’s still just a hut. Which means on climbing into bed we found big spiders under the sheets, and shongololos (gigantic millipedes) on the floor. Rustic. After we shooed them all out the door, we were lying in bed getting ready to turn the lights off, when we spotted the bat flying around high in the circular ceiling of the hut. There was some small debate over whether it was a bat or a bird, then some further debate about how to get it out, while it bashed confusedly into the walls and dove perilously close to the bed. While I actually like bats, I’m not eager to share my bedroom with them. A pillowcase? Ceiling too high. A broom? With all our dithering about, the smart little bat actually managed to find his/her own way out, and we were spared having to fling pillows at the poor thing.
The next day we headed off at sunrise for the 10 hour trip home. More karoo, more heat and boredom. We made it home, and the next day met up with some more old friends at the local sports bar to watch the Arsenal game, and ended up going out for the evening at what passes for a metal/goth/punk bar in Edenvale. It was a fun night, reliving the days when we used to care about how many holes our Doc Martens had, and who had the most holes in their body.
It was leaving day – we had some goodbye drinks with the family, and then everyone came to the airport to say goodbye. There was much confusion and back-and-forth over Jonno’s standby ticket, and in the end, he had to stay in SA another evening, while I ended up running for the plane. It wasn’t an ideal ending to the trip, but what can you do?
My impressions of the country? It’s an amazing dichotomy – a complete split between first-world country and underdeveloped nation. The cities are big and modern as any in the UK or US, yet, just outside them lie the ever-present townships, where people live in shacks made of tin, old billboards, tarps, and discarded wood scraps, many without electricity or plumbing. There are people who make a living by selling sacks of mangoes by the roadside, or metal trinkets, or wildflower bouquets. People walk long distances along the highways, because there’s no public transportation. It’s not uncommon to see small children begging in the street. Like a mix of Miami and Paraguay.
The new independence? It’s still very much a work in progress. Things are undoubtedly moving forward, yet racism is still visible to the naked eye. There is an obvious collection of older whites who fear they are losing power in the new independence to blacks. I never was completely comfortable with only ever being served by blacks. Cashiers and maids and petrol station workers and parking attendants and waiters are all only ever black. With 40% unemployment, surely this is no mistake. Among many, there is still a feeling of superiority because of the colour of their skin. There almost a patronising feel to the way in which they are sometimes spoken to. Is this a real reflection of the way things are? I don’t know – it’s only my impression.
Images that will stay with me: People in 30 sweltering degree heat wearing wool caps and jumpers. Eleven official languages, and spending ages searching for an English-speaking radio station through the Karoo. Mothers with babies wrapped to their backs walking with giant flour sacks balanced on their head. Baboons and monkey strolling across the road the same way a rabbit might here. The baby lion and tiger cubs. The sudden drama and force of a highveld thunderstorm, hail and torrential rain, and over as soon as it begins. The red dust that makes its way into every crevice and corner of the everything. The unexpected sight of an apple orchard in the mountains. The long white curves of a beautiful beach. The hundred year old mine dumps testifying to the riches of gold and diamonds plundered from the land, almost none of the money benefiting the South African people. The sad tale of the Zimbabwean cricket team, once a tour-de-force, now barely a contender whose players are politically persecuted. People napping on small patches of grass by the side of the road, or sitting on curbs watching cars go by. Table mountain by sunset. The beauty of elephants in their natural habitat. Trying to learn to pronounce, let alone understand, Afrikaans, with the guttural “g’s” and double vowels everywhere. The tiny little villages where schoolchildren walk home barefoot on boiling hot tarmac, and play in dry ravines, rarely seeing anyone or anything outside the main road. The security gates and alarms everywhere – visible fear of crime. People walking the street openly with guns. A little kid walking in the middle of nowhere through a thunderstorm. People walking with umbrellas to shield the sun. Cities and towns named Bloemfontein (bloom fountain), Ysterfarkesfontein (steel pig fountain), soetmelfontein (sweet milk fountain) – fonteins everywhere, yet not a fountain in sight.
There are a million more tiny moments which were memorable, and I could go on, but I’m not sure it’d mean anything to anyone but me. Whether my impressions and memories are mistaken or misguided, I can’t say, but they made up my collective experience of South Africa.
see the wedding and wildlife here
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