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Monthly Archives: May 2015

The Garden Route Part I: Wine and Ostrich Country

31 Sunday May 2015

Posted by Anita in Africa, South Africa

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Adventure Sports, Animals, Biking, Caves, Cycling

Heading out on our bike tour of Stellenbosch

Heading out on our bike tour of Stellenbosch

My lovely tent mate, Maud, and I headed out from Cape Town and met up in Stellenbosch for some girl time with wine. I had purchased a Baz Bus ticket that allowed me 14 days of unlimited hop on and off transport between Cape Town and Johannesburg. I had a rough itinerary already planned out ( I know, you’re shocked by that!) but was open and willing to make changes along the way should the mood strike or I received a significant personal recommendation.

I knew I wanted to have at least one day in Stellenbosch as a good starting point for my embarking on independent travel. And I was thrilled that Maud was up to meet me there, and go on a biking wine tour.

We were super lucky in that we were the only two people booked on the tour and it was a beautiful sunny day. We met with our guide and started the tour with a cycle around the main town of Stellenbosch and campus of the large university the town is also famous for. The town is framed by the most stunning countryside and mountains and I was thoroughly enjoying being out of the big city, breathing in the fresh air, and enjoying the exercise.

We visited two wineries, both of which were in stunning settings. The first had such an incredible backdrop of lake and mountains that the photos we shot during our tasting looked artificially superimposed. See for yourself!

Lake and mountain view at the vineyard

Lake and mountain view at the vineyard

Right?

Feeling quite tipsy and thoroughly happy after our ride, Maud and I enjoyed a lovely coffee and Belgian waffle on a trendy café-lined street before both going to get haircuts. Unfortunately, my hairdresser decided to cut an extra inch off the right side of my head vs. the left side, and I only noticed upon our return to our hostel…which ended up being an adventure in and of it!

Thoroughly looking forward to a home-made tuna salad, we asked around as to where we might find a cab to drive us to our hostel. No-one seemed to know where we might be able to locate one and we started to grow slightly nervous. We walked to several in-city hostels and we were told that cabs stopped operating at 5pm! What?!!

Don't I look super-imposed onto a green screen in this picture??!

Don’t I look super-imposed onto a green screen in this picture??!

Eventually, a kind hotel shuttle driver offered to drop us off, and we were saved from our complacent “I’m used to being in Cape Town” attitudes.

We enjoyed a lovely evening’s company with our dorm mates who were Peace Corps volunteers from the States working in Zambia. They told us some fascinating stories about the challenging projects they’d been occupied with in the rural center of that country. One of the more memorable, was the locals’ preference for “dry sex”. What on earth is “dry sex”, I hear you ask.

Maud and I chatting with the Peace Corps Volunteers

Maud and I chatting with the Peace Corps Volunteers

Well, I was fascinated to learn as well. Dry sex is sex where there is no internal lubrication in the woman. In fact, along with ensuring (of course) that the woman is not aroused before intercourse, young women in some Zambian villages are literally taught how to dry out their vaginas using certain leaves/herbs in order to please their husbands – who’s preference is for the sex to be nice and rough…ergo “Dry”. The reason the volunteers even got involved in this discussion is because in their health care education efforts, it is important for locals not to engage in this practice as the resulting abrasions vastly increase the chances of spreading the HIV virus which is rampant in Zambia.

Asking them how their efforts at condom education fared – their response was equally disheartening. They told us that locals would say “Well, when I bake a nice juicy chicken, I don’t put it in a plastic bag before I enjoy eating it…!”

Yeah…it’s like that.

From Stellenbosch I said my farewell to Maud and boarded my Baz Bus to my first stop on the famed Garden Route – Outsdhoorn – world capital of the ostrich!

Ostriches in the Ostrich capital of the world

Ostriches in the Ostrich capital of the world

I stayed at Backpacker’s Paradise and it really was one of the nicest hostels I’ve ever stayed at. And it was a paradise for me when I found out on arrival that one of the manager’s was also a masseuse and was willing to give me a massage that evening. It was not only the best massage I’ve had on this trip so far, it was the best massage of my life!

Dinner that night was ostrich meat, roast potatoes and salad.   I ate with a highly immature group of five English girls who giggled hysterically in between their ceaseless chatter about boys they’d hooked up with at last year’s Glastonbury festival. Ahhhh….hostels! Yet again, I discover that I’ve been traveling and staying in hostels since I was 17 alongside the other 18-25 year olds. The only problem is – I’m now 39, but the other backpackers have stayed the same age! What is nice, however, is that with age comes the ability to fend off peer pressure and truly do what one feels is in one’s best interest. For me, it was having my dinner and heading straight to sleep.

Outsdhoorn proved to offer quite an adventurous, strenuous day trip which consisted of being driven to the top of Swartberg Pass (1568 M) and then dropped off with a mountain bike for a 56km (about half downhill) adventure. The weather at the top of the pass was drastically different due to the elevation, and I was glad that I had brought lots of warm layers and my wooly hat! The ride literally started off in the clouds, but it wasn’t too long before I descended below the cloud line and found myself whizzing past green pastures full of ostriches, and rolling hills. It was just lovely.

 

Biking down from Swartberg Pass

Biking down from Swartberg Pass

 

The other main attraction in the area is the Cango Caves. Having visited lots of caves during my trip in South America last summer, I wasn’t too enthused about going – but I decided to at least go check out the visitor center and decide if I wanted to do the full tour or not.

The pictures at the ticket booth were pretty impressive so I signed up for the 90 minutes “adventure” tour – touted as being as close to splunking minus equipment that a person can get.

The cave tour actually far surpassed my expectations – the main caverns were enormous and were beautifully lit to highlight the wonderful stalagmite and stalactite formations. As the guided group continued deeper into the cave, the passages got narrower and trickier to get through. Our guide, Theo (a Xhosa) was hilarious telling us stories of fat tourists who’d gotten themselves stuck in some of the passageways and had to get extricated using copious amounts of grease lubricant. Some of the passageways were rather panic-inducing, but I was proud of myself for getting through it.   Unlike many cave systems I’ve been in, this one has no oxygen supply save for the initial opening, so you could really feel the air getting thinner the further you progressed into the cave.

The wonderful stalagmite and stalactite formations

The wonderful stalagmite and stalactite formations

At the turnaround point, there was a section that you had to slide down, head first on your tummy in order to squeeze your way through. A few of the larger men in the group had to turn around and come back a different way. It was challenging, but I managed to squeeze through feeling like I was re-enacting my entry to this world through the birth canal. We were all reminded of this when someone commented that the tunnel “opening” looked like a woman giving birth, and as the last tourist slid on out, Theo announced “And it’s a boy!” – and we all had a good laugh.

The rest of the ride back to town was actually quite arduous and I was glad for all the water I’d brought. I was eager to get to the farmhouse that had been recommended to us as having wonderful cakes and tea as I was getting hungry – only to discover that they were closed! The last six kilometers back to the hostel were the longest I’d ever ridden and I walked back into the lobby absolutely famished.

I ordered a piece of carrot cake and a coffee and sat relishing both as I rested my weary muscles.

My "French" evening in Outsdhoorn

My “French” evening in Outsdhoorn

That evening turned out to be rather “French”. I had met a French-Canadian on the bus named Lea (who I continually re-met at various stops along the Baz Bus route as the trip continued) and an American named Jake who was rather fluent in French having just lived in La Reunion these past six months.   Then, two guys from Lyon showed up complete in their V-neck sweaters and matching scarves – and we all went out for a meal which turned out to be dominated with French conversation. Despite struggling a little to keep up and understand – I was decidedly happier with the conversation.

 

My Return to Cape Town – 14 years later

27 Wednesday May 2015

Posted by Anita in Africa, South Africa

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Cities, Culture, Opinion Pieces

Gorgeous Cape Town's Skyline

Gorgeous Cape Town’s Skyline

I visited Cape Town in the December of 2001 with Semester at Sea.  It had made quite the impression on me then and I had counted it in the top three cities in the world, for me.  I was so looking forward to returning and doing the activities that I hadn’t had the time to on my visit fourteen years prior!

Entering the city on our rented bus, I was sorry to hear Pete (who’d come instead of Tabby because she can’t get a SA visa with a Kenyan passport) tell us to be really careful in Cape Town because it’s the most dangerous place the tour goes.  I was looking forward to walking around by myself, but I realized that I was still going to have to be cautious, especially in the evening, and take cabs/carry little etc.

On arrival at our hostel, The Ashanti Gardens, I was very happy to see beautiful Table Mountain right from the deck.  The air was cool and a welcome 15 degrees celcius.  That evening I enjoyed the best meal of the trip so far when I ordered “The Game Platter” which consisted of Ostrich, Springbok, Gemsbok, and Wilderbeest Ribs.  Damn.  So good.

Bench outside city magistrates court

Bench outside city magistrates court

On my first day in the big city – I ventured downtown to take the Free Walking Tour – these guides rely entirely on tips, so the quality of tour usually is reflected.  I wasn’t disappointed – it was a great introduction to the main commercial/political city centre; we even had the opportunity to observe a protest march passing right by the main town hall where Nelson Mandela made his first speech after being released from prison.

On a more sombre note, we visited the main city courtroom where people had to go during the Apartheid regime to get classified into a “race category”, of which there were five to start, eventually the government deciding on eleven categories, which, hysterically, included “honorary white” – to enable Japanese or Chinese dignataries/athletes/journalists etc. to be allowed to visit South Africa and be afforded the same privileges of movement as white people.  People would first have to pass what they called the “Pencil Test”.  If a pencil fell out of their hair, they were classified as white.  If it stayed, then they had to proceed to the court hearing to be classified.

Square with the slaves' memorial

Square with the slaves’ memorial

Our guide told us a few horror stories of families being physically separated after individuals who were related to one another were deemed to belong to different races because of having perhaps lighter or darker skin.  Couples, siblings, even parents and children could be separated and forced to live in different sections of the city.

Of the categories that were created, a few have survived and are used in everyday speech – White, Black, Colored, and Asian.  The use of the word “colored” has been the most interesting to me as it refers to people of mixed race, and has made me realize how strange it is that back home, we refer to those of mixed race, such as President Obama, as black.  Slightly black = black in the States.  This has been fascinating to ask locals about and I will dedicate an entire post to my thoughts on this topic later on.

V & A Waterfront

V & A Waterfront

Our guide also showed us where the slaves that were brought to the Cape were housed upon first arrival.  The Dutch settled the cape in the 1800’s but had to bring in slaves because they needed a workforce to build the city, and they were also in need of women to help populate the area.  Every Saturday, female slaves – from Madagascar, Malawi, Mozambique, Malaysia (to name a few countries) would be rounded up outside in the square for the men to take pleasure with.  He said that it is estimated, now, that every “white” South African can actually attribute at least 8% of their DNA to this initial slave gene pool.

Which means, if correct, that the very men who wrote Apartheid into the constitution, were part black themselves.  An idea, which meets with tremendous resistance among some nationals here (as attested to my bringing it up in some conversations over the last few weeks, as a data gathering experiment).

In the park, we were shown a fully albino squirrel and were told that he’d been nicknamed “Apartheid Squirrel” and has his very own twitter feed… Funny.

#ApartheidSquirrel

#ApartheidSquirrel

Later that evening I met up with my friend Martin Slabber.  Martin and I were on a tour together in Chile back in 2008 and it was delightful to catch up.  He and his wife and his new baby Max picked me up in their car (well, the baby had little to do with it) and drove me to their home in beautiful Hout Bay where they live.  It’s about a half hour drive from Cape Town and it has quite a stunning beach setting with dramatic hills that rise up out of the ocean in jagged spectacle.  We picked up pizza take out and shared life’s stories over a lovely bottle of red wine.

It was so good to spend an evening in a person’s home after so long on the road.  Thank you Martin!

My visit with "Ice Bru" and Bob Vela!!

My visit with “Ice Bru” and Bob Vela!!

I hadn’t gone to Robben Island back in 2001, and nowadays, the visit to the infamous prison is one of the top visitor attractions, and most tours sell out days in advance.  I got my ticket online and visited one afternoon.  Though the boat service/tour was poorly organized, I was really glad that I went to experience the place for myself.  I really got a sense of what it must have been like for prisoners like Mandela, to be taunted daily with such a beautiful view of Cape Town’s Table Mountain, always out of reach.  We visited the rock quarry where prisoners were made to perform hard labor, often which was pointless and therefore soul-destroying, such as moving large rocks from one area to another, only to be forced to move them back the next day.

On Robben Island, the quarry where prisoners' worked

On Robben Island, the quarry where prisoners’ worked

The most disturbing thing I learned at the prison is best summarized by the attached photo.  During apartheid, a person’s skin color could literally determine where they were “allowed” to live, whether they could move freely in a city, and whether they had to carry a pass, or face being beaten or thrown in jail.  Here on Robben Island, it was taken a step further and the food that the prisoners were fed was different for coloreds vs. Blacks (that they deprecatingly referred to as Bantu) Of course, at Robben Island, there was no meal plan for whites because a white prisoner would never be sent there.

Menu at the prison for different races

Menu at the prison for different races

My final day in Cape Town, I got to do something I’d been waiting 14 years to do.  Great White Shark cage diving.  I was supposed to go back in 2001 but the trip got canceled due to bad weather.  While the activity is somewhat controversial, our company did a decent job of sharing their efforts in Shark conservation and explaining that they don’t feed the animals, they only attract them to the vessel and use the opportunity to study their behavior at the same time.

Mandela's cell

Mandela’s cell

Unfortunately, as excited as I was, not even the seasickness medication I took ahead of time was adequate in preparing me for the rolling waves that we had to sit through for over three hours on the open water.  Spotting the first shark was thrilling, and I made my best efforts to try and capture the moments on my camera, but after 15 minutes or so I began to feel queasy.

Me trying to keep food down in the shark cage

Me trying to keep food down in the shark cage

I spent most of the rest of the trip laying down at the front of the boat just trying to keep my breakfast down – and failing to:-(  I did, however, go into the cage – as the marine biologists on board assured me that the nausea would be alleviated somewhat.

It didn’t really help, especially since the girl to my right was still puking right into the surf as we clung together to the metal bars of the cage.  There was definitely a few very memorable moments when the sharks swam straight towards our faces, but with the sea as rough as it was, it was very difficult to remain steady underwater while holding one’s breath at the same time.

I’m still glad that I did it, but it certainly wasn’t what I’d been expecting.

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Last Days of Overlanding – Onward to Cape Town

24 Sunday May 2015

Posted by Anita in Africa, Namibia

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Archaeological Sites, Desert, Indigenous People, Tours

Spitzkoppe

Spitzkoppe

It was hard to believe but the 56 day coast to coast overland adventure I’d embarked on in Nairobi was coming to a close.  We had three more days on the road after Swakopmund before we’d arrive in Cape Town and I’d start my independent travel in South Africa.

I can’t say I was sad that the trip was coming to an end.  While there were numerous advantages to being on a truck with a planned route, and tour operators arranged for you  in each destination; it was very challenging for me to not have the freedom that independent travel affords.  I was so looking forward to being able to go where I wanted, when I wanted, to stay for as long as I wanted, and most importantly, to spend time with whom I wanted.

Despite my extroversion, I was really looking forward to some alone time as well.

Leaving Swakopmund, our first stop was a beautiful spot in the desert called Spitzkoppe – an area of stunning red rock formations that recalled to mind similar vistas in Arizona/Utah, Australia, and Jordan’s Wadi Rum.  Our group was greeted by two very cute running meerkats who continued to follow us as we embarked on our two hour guided hike through the area.

Meerkats following us!

Meerkats following us!

Our guide took us to see some cave paintings and told us a little bit about the history of the San people, whom it is believed created the art.  He also talked about the San language and how it related to his native Tamara – which only contains five clicks as opposed to the Bush people’s seven.

We then hiked to a watering hole, though none of us had our swimsuits, which was unfortunate since it was already swelteringly hot.  It was still a very beautiful place and I thought it one of the most scenic spots we’d stopped at on the trip so far.

The following day we visited a farm in the middle of nowhere – desert all around as far as the eye could see.  We were scheduled to have an afternoon/evening desert tour with a man known locally as “Boesmann” or “Bushman”.  He is a white 4th generation Namibian who bought this dilapidated farm, and renovated it in the hopes that he would be able to make a living offering tours of the desert to tourists passing through the area.

At the watering hole in the hot sun

At the watering hole in the hot sun

The tour itself was very informative and interesting (despite the fact that I found his extremely thick accent somewhat hard to concentrate to) and we learned lots of stuff about desert survival.  A few of the tips I remember:

  • If you’re lost in the desert, never go to a tree.  There might be wild animals there.
  • If you get lost in the desert, split up into small groups.  You have a higher chance of survival apparently
  • The San didn’t drink water.  They would suck on the eyeballs of any hunted Oryx and then wring out their stomachs for liquid that would be provided to the women and children. Sounds thirst quenching.
  • You can eat lizards to stay hydrated.
  • You can never kill a beetle by standing on it in the sand.  It will just go deeper into the sand.
  • Never ever help an oryx out of a fence if he’s stuck in it.  He will gore you to death.  Better call the farmer who’s land the Oryx is on so he can shoot and eat it.

Boesmann also gave us some additional interesting information on the Bushmen.  His grandfather, apparently, had one as a pet. Yes, you read that right – people in Namibia  used to have Bushmen that they kept as pets along with their chickens and dogs.   It was legal to hunt and kill bushmen until 1920.  Isn’t that shocking?

"Bushman" giving us his tour of the desert

“Bushman” giving us his tour of the desert

He talked a little about how nomadic they were and their incredible capacities for gorging themselves on meat if they were lucky enough to make a kill.  He said they could eat 20kg of meat in one go and then they would sleep in order to digest it properly.  He also talked about the realities of their nomadic existence and how if they had gone for some days without finding food, it might have been necessary to leave behind the youngest children who might slow the group down.  It was said that it was best to simply walk away and not look back at the abandoned child, left to die alone in the hot desert.  Since they believe that one should never speak of the dead, the mother would sit by the smoky fire that evening, so that if she cried, she could attribute her tears to the smoke.

Rather heartbreaking, isn’t it?

IMG_0018-001

Heading up Soussvlei

Heading up Soussvlei

The following day was a day of fun in the hot sand of Soussvlei, Deadvlei, and Dune 46 – the largest free standing sand dune in the world.  At Soussvlei, we arrived, much to our chagrin, at 12pm – the hottest part of the day when the sun was at its strongest point.  Doing our best to stay hydrated and not get fried to a crisp, we set out on what we thought was a guided tour of the dunes, but we were simply dropped off in a jeep and given no additional information.  Not really sure what we were expected to do – we hiked up the main ridge of the dune and then had a whale of a time running back down (this is by far the most enjoyable part of climbing sand dunes)  Upon our return, we found out that we weren’t actually supposed to climb the dune because we were climbing Dune 45.  What the hell?!

Personally, I was fine with climbing both and welcomed the exercise very much indeed.

That night we enjoyed a beautiful setting for our final bush camp experience.  The setting was lakefront and the only thing that spoilt the location was the amount of trash that had been left behind by previous groups.  Since we’d gotten in before sunset, I suggested that we play the game of charades that the group had so enjoyed together at Okavango Delta.  It was a fun evening until another fight broke out within the group.  Apparently someone thought it funny to put trash in someone else’s locker.  Group dynamics had been somewhat dramatic on this journey, though I suppose that can be expected when you spend this amount of time on a truck.

Quatchi likes the dunes too

Quatchi likes the dunes too

Our final day of the tour itself was initially not even going to happen when Pete discovered the following morning that the truck wouldn’t start.  Panic was soon subsided by the fact that our driver is a mechanical genius, and within an hour he’d replaced whatever vital part wasn’t functioning before and we were on our way.

Our only stop this day was the second largest canyon in the world – Fish River Canyon in the very south of Namibia.  We only had two hours there but it was enough to get a good long walk in to the various lookouts over the edge of the canyon.  I had read about the five day trek that one can do through the canyon, skirting the river along the canyon floor, but the only way to do it non-independently was with a tour operator that was charging well over a $1000 for it.  I would have loved to climb down and see how the views changed based on where you were inside its vertical walls.

Crossing the Tropic of Capricorn

Crossing the Tropic of Capricorn

Our last night was at a lovely campsite ran by the same coach company – Felix Unite –  that was going to be transporting us in the very early morning to Cape Town.  I had cooking duties this last night, and we made Spanish omelettes, Potato wedges and guacamole.  It was delicious, and I’m finally unafraid of making omelettes!

I re-packed all of my bags, as Tabitha and Pete were kind enough to take a bag from me and transport it back with them to Nairobi where I would be re-joining them in a few weeks.  At first I wasn’t sure if I was going to do the Gorilla Loop tour that lasts 18 days, but since it was going to cost me $375 just to change my international plane tickets, and I did have the time at the moment (if not the funds) I had decided that I was going to go to Uganda and Rwanda after my nearly 3 weeks in South Africa.

At Fish River Canyon

At Fish River Canyon

This trip has really challenged me in many ways that I was not expecting.  At first, it was all too much and I very much regretted coming, and yearned to go home where things were known to me and predictable.  I missed my friends.  I missed having someone to talk to.  And I still do – travel can be a very lonely experience if you haven’t anyone to share it with.  However, I have fallen for the spirit of Africa and made a decision to stick with my original plans and take each day as it comes.  This is what will make me a stronger person – I hope.

I was so looking forward to returning to South Africa, almost 14 years after I had first visited on Semester at Sea.

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Swakopmund – Bizarre German city in the desert

21 Thursday May 2015

Posted by Anita in Africa, Namibia

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Culture, Tours, Townships

IMG_0013Swakopmund just looks funny.  It isn’t congruent with any sort of mental image one has of a city in Africa.  Granted, that initial image is often quite misdirected to start with, given the shamefully limited amount of exposure we Americans get to African news/culture/history.   It’s German influence was clearly visible; from its architecture and the manicured design of its streets to its cold meats at breakfast.  The language of the predominantly white city population, however, was Afrikaans and the people were fiercely Namibian (which they made very clear if and when it came up in conversation).

The restaurants were overpriced compared to other stops we’d made, the meals costing roughly what they would back home.  It was nice, however, to order some really well prepared fruit smoothies, western wraps, and grilled steak.  There was a distinctly European feel to everything in that city and one could easily forget they were on the African continent.

That is, until you ventured even a few blocks outside the city.  Like major metropolitan areas in South Africa (and South Africa governed Namibia until it gained independence in 1964) – Swakopmund is surrounded by sprawling townships, the raw materials utilized in the their construction getting progressively more temporary and non-robust the further out of the city you went, like the outer layers of an onion.  Swakopmund’s main industry is mining – and people come from all over the country with the promise of better wages in the urban areas.  However depressing, 90% of Swakopmund’s population live in the townships – and they are all people of color, known in Namibia as Black and colored (anyone with mixed blood/race), yet they earn/retain only 10% of its wealth.  That is the reality here.  Ethnically, Namibia’s gene pool is about as diverse as you can find here – with the main tribes living here being San, Tamara (who like the Xhosa in South Africa, have a language based around 5 clicks) Otambo, and Herero – though the Herero’s numbers are vastly diminished due to their almost being exterminated by the Germans after colonization in a massive genocide that I’d never even heard of.

The other side of Swakopmund

The other side of Swakopmund

Of course most of the group were busy doing the adrenaline activities Swakopmund is touristically famous for: Skydiving, quad biking, sand boarding and the like.  I didn’t begrudge anyone enjoying these activities, of course, I just decided that I wanted to have a recuperative break here, and try to get to know the local communities a little better.  So, together with the Frenchies Sandrine and Benoit, I elected to go on a Township tour that could be done on bicycle.

It was a wonderful experience.

Getting out on our bike township tour

Getting out on our bike township tour

First of all, it was just great getting out on a bike for the first time and getting some needed exercise.  Our guide, Costa, was wonderful, generous, and enthusiastic about showing us the township which was also his home.  We made several stops enroute – to try biltong being sold by women on the side of the road (this is a type of dried meat like jerky but way better tasting) and next to a Herrero woman’s home.  She talked about what life was like here in the townships when the whites basically ousted all colored/black people to the outskirts of town – telling them that they would be provided better housing even though the purpose of the move was to establish segregation.  She said her family were given a much better concrete house compared to the converted rail carriage that they had been living in, so they were happy.

Township water pump

Township water pump

I learned that Herreros are essentially descendants of the Himba people.  The Himba were employed as servants and in general labor when the Germans first arrived here.  However, the German wives were none too pleased that their husbands were in the constant company of women who walked about without shame of their nakedness.  When these women started having babies that were far more light skinned than their husband’s genes would naturally procure, the wives insisted that the Himba employees clothe themselves modestly.  The Herrero chose very distinct clothing to ensure that their heritage would remain very distinctive, with giant headdresses that appeared like the bulls of a horn and would make the people look taller than they were.  Women of the Herrero were expected to marry young, and their husband would be chosen for them by their father’s brother.  Of course, as in many African cultures, men could have multiple wives, but it was interesting to hear this woman talk about how it was the first wife’s job to choose wife number two and three, making sure that they weren’t as pretty as wife number one.  For the lady whom we met, she thankfully said she’d raised seven children while being her husband’s only wife.  Enquiries as to why he hadn’t married more women were politely smiled at but not answered.

Cycling further into the outskirts of the townships we were able to observe the concrete permanent structures changing to tin, corrugated metals and makeshift cardboard and the dwellings went on as far as the eye could see.  Water is a precious resource in this township and it was interesting to see the line of people at the single pump for hundreds of residences, awaiting to pay money into a coin slot in order to fill up their jerry cans.  When you ran out of cash, you also ran out of water…

Me and a local Herrero woman

Me and a local Herrero woman

Our guide explained how you could qualify for help with certain types of housing with the Namibian government.  However, he also said that it wasn’t enough for you to have low wages; they had to be low enough to qualify, but high enough to afford the high interest rates on the mortgage.  He said he didn’t earn anywhere near enough to qualify, and was stuck sharing a small two bedroom unit with about 6 of his friends.

Closer look at the houses of the township

Closer look at the houses of the township

As the sun was setting we also visited a herbalist who was Tamara and kindly also gave us a great demonstration of the five clicks of her language while talking us through the various herbs and remedies that provided her livelihood.  It was so crazy to me that these people all lived together, all with such different backgrounds, cultures, each speaking their own native tongue but communicating with the majority either in English or Afrikaans.  We finished our tour with some streetside bbq which was delicious and then retired to a local bar where we were serenaded by an incredible 8 member a capella group who astonished me with their beautiful faces and harmonies.

This was definitely one of the highlights of Swakopmund for me.  The other came quite strangely, again, from my computer dilemnas.  Attempting to find a cheap replacement laptop as well as a way to fix my camera, I met a woman called Marshall who worked at Royal Computers about 15 minutes walk from our hostel.  After talking to her several times about the various models she had for sale, and discovering that she could very kindly restore the over 2000 photos that had been accidentally formatted from my SD card at a dumb internet café, she offered to drive me around the city in search of a good laptop.  I couldn’t believe how kind she was, and after four or five stops, I found a decent Lenovo for just over $500 that would serve me well for the remainder of my trip, if not in life after.

Me and Marshall

Me and Marshall

She introduced me to her husband and son, and her co-worker Chri-Lei, and the small group of us hang out after the shop closed on a Saturday, chatting merrily about life and what my travels had been like thus far.  I invited everyone out to lunch, but unfortunately the family had an appointment to go to.  I sang Marshall a song after she requested one and choosing a Janis Joplin number, she welled up with tears as she reached to hug me goodbye when I finished. I was very moved.

Walking towards the beach in search of a deserved beer, Chris-Lei joined me and he and I ended up having several rounds of drinks over fish and chips at a great little beachside restaurant for the rest of the day.  We talked about philosophy, religion, race, life in America, life for him in Namibia; there wasn’t a topic that was off the table, and it was so completely refreshing to feel such a great connection to another person.  To feel that I mattered again, to someone if only for a few hours.

Me and Chris-Lei

Me and Chris-Lei

Returning to my hostel first to take care of some errands, we arranged to meet up later and catch a movie at the local cinema.  Despite being a horrendous American Avengers movie, the cultural experience of going to a film here in Namibia made it well worthwhile.  Popcorn was served only  half-full – the people applying all manner of different flavored toppings before handing it back and having it filled completely.  The movie theatre was packed small with people of every shade of color, all talking in multiple languages and often during the movie that had terrible sound quality.  I still enjoyed myself thoroughly, especially in my new found friendship with Chris-Lei who later walked me back to my hostel.

It had been a lovely and refreshing change of pace to stay here a while.  But it was time to head back out now into the southern desert.

Namibia – Cheetahs, Tribal Nakedness, and Extreme Temperatures

18 Monday May 2015

Posted by Anita in Africa, Namibia

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Animals, Camping, Culture, Desert, Safari, Travel Days, Villages

View over the northern Namibian desert

View over the northern Namibian desert

We were on the road staying in a different bush camp each night for several days following Etosha and preceding our stop in Swakopmund – a luxurious four days that we’d get to enjoy the luxury of a dorm bed.  What was fast becoming apparent in Namibia was the difficulty of maintaining bodily comfort due to the excessive swings in ambient temperature each day.  Mornings waking up huddled in my 15 degree F sleeping bag were cold, breath creating its own fog on exhalation.  They required long pants, and fleece layers as well as my wooly hat.  However, by 10am we were often sweltering in the heat of the sun, the temperature starting to soar and then bake us through to sunset when it would turn around and plummet once again.

I came up with an ingenious routine of dressing in layers that could be easily peeled away – so I’d wear my shorts under my long pants, and my tank top underneath a t-shirt and long sleeved shirt and fleece on top, knowing that I could peel the clothes and stow them comfortably in my day bag.

There were times, however, when even this wasn’t adequate – such as during our drive south once we’d hit the western coast of Namibia, known as the skeleton coast, presumably because of the number of ships that had wrecked here as well as the number of skeletons that amass on the shores of the massively populated seal colonies.  Apparently, this area gets a lot of its wind currents from Antarctica, and on two separate days, the cold was so bitter that it sent all of us diving into our lockers to extract our sleeping bags which we proceeded to climb into, fully clothed, even as we sat on our chairs huddled together for collective warmth.

Stroking one of the "pet" cheetahs...not that I approved of the place

Stroking one of the “pet” cheetahs…not that I approved of the place

Namibia is covered with desert landscapes, but also incredibly beautiful rock formations, sand dunes, and miles and miles of beautiful sandy beaches.  Our first stop after leaving Etosha National Park was the Petrified forest park where we endured blistering sun and temperatures for a thankfully short walk to view the petrified logs.  Later we were taken to a rather strange and somewhat disturbing “Cheetah Park” where the white Namibian owners had 3 cheetahs kept in a domestic capacity as pets, together with a group of “fenced in” cheetahs that they fed daily as part of their artificial cheetah safari.  Enquiring as to how they came to have cheetahs on their farm, the owner told a rather disturbing story, but didn’t seem to have any ethical issues with it himself.  He basically explained that cheetahs had been attacking and eating his cows, and that he’d taken to shooting them (around 10-15 years ago) but then one time, decided that he’d catch them instead using a trap.  After successfully trapping one female cheetah, it turned out she was pregnant, and so he decided to take the cubs away from their mother and keep them as pets, and later charge people to come to his home and have pictures taken with his cuddly friends.  Of course, he used slightly different verbiage – but this was the gist of it.

Creepy, right?

 

Pretty Cheetah

Pretty Cheetah

What made the place even more suspect was that we were later driven around what was essentially a penned in area of land where we observed maybe twenty cheetahs all waiting to be fed by the chunks of meat the driver would heave into the air.  Some of the cheetahs looked a little sickly, like they’d been physically harassed by the other cheetahs, and besides my obvious concern over their well being in this regard, I couldn’t shake the feeling that cheetahs really should be roaming free, hunting, and catching their own food.

 

Cheetahs, cheetahs, everywhere...but waiting to be fed?  please....

Cheetahs, cheetahs, everywhere…but waiting to be fed? please….

Hoping for a more authentic experience than the Cheetah park, we headed the next morning on a visit of a Himba tribal  village.  Many of the Himba people living in rural Namibia still live with their traditions and customs that are unavoidably startling and somewhat uncomfortable for us westerners to observe – especially when it is presented in this fashion of “come to our village and see our naked women, our huts, and our children presented to you as if they are exhibits in a museum.”  Except the exhibits are alive and you feel as though you’re violating their rights to privacy taking photos (which they encouraged us to) as if they’re lions in a game reserve.  Ultimately, however, the culture of the Himba people is so foreign and fascinating, that one feels compelled to go and see for oneself, and one can’t help but take photos and swallow the given discomfort that accompanies the experience.

 

Himba woman and her son - I love the village meets western clothing in this pic (see the baby's shoes)

Himba woman and her son – I love the village meets western clothing in this pic (see the baby’s shoes)

Young men of the Himba tribe have their three front lower teeth knocked out by their fathers when they are young teenagers.  We were informed that this both distinguishes their tribal roots and also aids in the pronunciation of their dialect.  Women are mostly naked, dressed in little more than leather strap-like skirts and elaborate beadwork about their necks and chest.  Most notable, however, is the habit of the women not to bathe – at all.  Instead, they keep “clean” through a combination of spreading Okra-based paint onto their skin (which gives them their rich rust-orange like color) and sitting in the huts and “smoking” themselves – which is exactly what it sounds like: sitting in an oxygen deprived hut directly in front of a fire and letting the smoke cleanse your body (though exactly how this happens I’m not sure.)

The men, apparently, wash as we do with soap and water.  Of course, I felt a natural revulsion for their sanitary practices, and I recognize how ethnocentric that stance is, but I’m ok with it.  Making it even more difficult to believe – the women also put copious amounts of okra onto their hair, creating these elaborate headdresses out of their own tresses that they then embellish at the ends with circular mounds of animal fur.

The seal colony on the Skeleton Coast

The seal colony on the Skeleton Coast

I found myself aching to ask how/what the women used during their menstrual cycles and whether they could use water during this time for their ablutions.  I was left, unfortunately, to wonder.

This visit had been a highlight for Andy, a beloved member of our group, who was also celebrating his 46th birthday on the same day.  There were the obvious jokes about getting to see naked women on his birthday.  Since we were facing a very long drive to our bush camp that evening, we all decided to stock up on some booze to go along with the game bbq dinner Tabitha had promised to make us that evening, as a treat.  Around 2pm in the afternoon, someone suggested we crack open the alcohol stash and make a party of the afternoon’s drive, and that was it.

Truck Party time.

Sunset and partying on the roof of our truck in our Bush Camp

Sunset and partying on the roof of our truck in our Bush Camp

Andy put on a rocking compilation of music and we were all soon singing along and dancing up and down the central walkway of the truck.  We just about managed to get out of the truck and scramble to dizzying high viewpoints as the truck stopped at scenic photo opps along the way, though the climbs got progressively more difficult the more libations we imbibed.

By the time we got to the absolutely stunning setting for our bush camp, it was already time for sunset and most of us were winding down from our “night” of drinking.  The meal that night was the most memorable of the whole trip – we ate Oryx or Gemsbok and it was quite possibly the most delicious meat I’ve ever put in my mouth.

By 8 o clock, Andy had collapsed asleep in his tent, so any further party plans were soon squished besides the few of us who decided to make a night of sleeping directly under the stars sans our tents.

Nicely recovered from what had been a “day of revelry” – we happily set off towards the skeleton coast, first re-tracing our route a few miles as two members of the group had lost articles of clothing and hats during the dancing and truck party the afternoon prior.  Half successful, we turned about and headed towards the aforementioned block of cold air that hit us a few hours later, promptly finding us inside our sleeping bags in due course.  We had a number of strange stops that day before our perhaps even more strange stop that night at our camp (that had showers!!) at Hettie’s Bay.  We visited an abandoned oil mining shaft in the desert, a shipwreck on the beach, several more cliff top view points, and most surprising of all – Cape Cross Seal Colony.

Never have I seen this many seals in one place.  It made the Galapagos look like a quiet vacation spot for seals by comparison.  There were literally thousands of them crowded on the beach as far as the eye could see, lots and lots of young pups all screeching for their mothers amongst the masses.  If you looked carefully, you could also spot lots of pups that hadn’t survived and their remaining skeletons littering the beach too.  Reading the interpretive signs that were on display, we were disturbed to read that during the summer months when the pups are born, thousands can perish on a given day if the wind dies down for an extended period of hours – offering no relief from the relentless heat that they are just too weak to survive.

Desert

Desert

The temperature dropped even further as we arrived in Hettie’s Bay – a very very strange and somewhat creepily deserted town that was home for the night.  As it was the birthday of another member of our group, I made my best effort to go out for a drink after dinner – and found myself in a pub that somewhat resembled one of the nasty run down pubs they have in Everett along the Aurora highway.  Except with really bad Afrikaans music playing.

Weird.

I was very happy to arrive in Swakopmund the next day, and the weird Germanness of the town was overlooked, for now, because of the prospect of sheets and a bed for the next re-humanizing four days.

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Etosha National Park – Moonwalking Rhinos and Cheeky Honey Badgers

15 Friday May 2015

Posted by Anita in Africa, Namibia

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Tags

Animals, Safari

Lions at Etosha

Lions at Etosha

Our first big stop in Namibia was the large game reserve of Etosha National Park.  After a long drive in the morning, in blistering heat, our driver Pete told us that he was going to arrange for us to get private vehicle game drives as he was suffering with food poisoning.  After setting up our tents, we piled into two 4 x 4 vehicles for our 3 hour game drive.  We were informed that many of the animals had already moved to the western part of the park in search of water after the recent rains…a bit disappointing to hear as we first headed out.  Regardless, we were able to spot Eland, Hartebeest, Zebra, Giraffe, and Elephants during the drive.  We also had fun taking perspective pictures on the salt flats in the middle of the park.

The absolute highlight of this place, however, came a little later in the day and was completely unexpected.  We had been told, in passing (as if it were really a minor detail) that there was a watering hole that we could go to after dinner, and if we were lucky, we’d be able to observe animals coming to drink throughout the evening and night.  However, as a few of us were readying ourselves to take a dip in the pool, a woman came by and casually said “oh!  There’s Elephants in the watering hole at the moment…!”

Hartebeest

Hartebeest

Since I was already in my swimsuit, I decided to take a quick swim first and then headed down to the watering hole.  I wasn’t really sure where I was going, but a set of signs quickly pointed me in the right direction.  At first, I felt a stab of disappointment as my friends, Sandrine and Benoit, informed me that the entire family of elephants, who had been playing in the water had now left.

My heart sank, but I sat down on a comfortable rock and enjoyed the view as the sun began to do the same.

Heading into Etosha, watching for wildlife from the Beach on the truck

Heading into Etosha, watching for wildlife from the Beach on the truck

And then, just as everything had grown extremely quiet, a black rhino ambled up to the water’s edge and began to drink.  It was incredible, being this close to the Rhino, and seeing him in such an unobscured fashion.  It was a beautiful scene and my heart was filled with gratitude.

Then, as we were getting ready to head back and shower in time for dinner, another rhino appeared from the bush and approached the watering hole!  Black rhinos are solitary animals, so it is extremely rare to spot two of them in one place.  These two rhinos were clearly male rivals, each asserting his authority over the space with audible grunts and aggressive posturing of his horn.

As time went on, things got even crazier, and Sandrine and I began clutching each other in excitement, unable to comprehend the rare spectacle we were being treated to.  The two rhino began to actually fight, one charging the other, and the other backing up in a move that strangely and hysterically reminded me of Michael Jackson’s moonwalk.  Then, another two rhinos appeared from the bush, chasing each other in a huge cloud of dust, dispersing the two that were already at the watering hole with a very audible display of upset at the intrusion.  Then, a hyena appeared, seemingly unconcerned by the rhino situation ensuing, and calmly drank at the water’s edge.

Elephants at the Watering Hole (someone else's pic!)

Elephants at the Watering Hole (someone else’s pic!)

For another hour or so, these four rhino came and drank at the hole, fought with one another, scratched themselves on a tree trunk, and stalked one another back into the bush.  It was a display of wills, strength and, well, high-stakes drama.

It made me realize something very important.  Each day we’d been on a safari, or visiting a place in Africa where we were on the lookout for wild animals, our guides would ask us, “what animals are you hoping to spot today?”  I always found this question bemusing, and usually resorted to the response that I’d like to see one of the rarer cats, a leopard, say.  However, this experience made me realize that on a safari, it’s not what animals you spot that make the trip memorable, it’s whether the animals are exhibiting interesting behavior while you happen to be observing them.

Cheeky Honey Badgers right before they upturned the trash cans

Cheeky Honey Badgers right before they upturned the trash cans

What kind of animal they are is of less importance.

It is very rare to see rhino.  It is even rarer to see more than one black rhino in one place, and astonishingly rare to have seen them fighting/interacting/vocalizing the way the small group of us did that evening.  I was humbled by the experience, and to that point – it became the highlight of the entire trip.

We also had one other treat in store.  The Honey Badger is a creature endemic to this region, and are known for coming into the campgrounds of Etosha and wreaking havoc, eating food out of tents, etc.  After dinner, as I was getting ready to return to the watering hole, I watched as two honey badgers came into camp and started attacking some towels that people had hung out to dry.  They are aggressive little buggers, with razor sharp teeth, and our guide had told us that they have been known to attack a lion, and humans.  I stayed a little back, and watched them as they also proceeded to tip over 3 of our garbage cans and make a complete mess of our campsite.

Taking silly perspective photos during our game drive

Taking silly perspective photos during our game drive

Returning to the watering hole after dinner(Sandrine and I stayed there until about 11:30pm)  we only got to see a single rhino, and a single hyena return – things were altogether much quieter and no way near as dramatic as at sunset.

Etosha was a very special place.

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Okavango Delta – Botswana Unplugged

12 Tuesday May 2015

Posted by Anita in Africa, Botswana

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Animals, Camping, Safari

Sunset on the Delta

Sunset on the Delta

Arriving in Maun, we didn’t have much time to chill before we had to pack up for our 3 day/2night mini “break within a break” trip to the Okavango Delta.  The Delta is an huge expanse of land in Northern Botswana that is covered with fresh water that flows south from Angola, with huge areas of rivers and islands teeming with wildlife scattered throughout the region.

I was looking forward to having a smaller group dynamic as it turned out that only about 1/2 of the group wanted to go, the rest elected to stay in the campsite in Maun.  This was going to be very basic camping with no facilities, no electricity, no cooking facilities beyond a fire we made ourselves.  To get to the island where we’d be rough camping involved a very attractive aspect of the trip – sitting back in a Mokoro – a traditional wooden (now made primarily from synthetic materials) canoe that sits very low on the water and can be “driven” with a long wooden pole that is reminiscent of the methods used by gondoliers in Venice.

Cooking at our campfire

Cooking at our campfire

We drove about an half hour outside of Maun to a tiny rural village, where we were met by our Mokoro paddlers and camping “crew” and helped load the canoes with our equipment, food, and water for the stay.

The canoe ride out to the island lasted around two hours and was an almost hypnotically relaxing experience.  Just being able to lay back in the sun with legs outstretched and just watch the water glide by, covered in giant Lilly pads with frogs croaking and crickets chirping the only noise that broke the haunting silence.  It was lovely.

Heading downstream in the Mokoro

Heading downstream in the Mokoro

Upon arrival, we were told that our itinerary during our stay would involve early morning game “walks” where we would head into the interior of the island and try to spot Elephant, Zebra, Antelope, Wildebeest, and if we were very lucky, a big cat (though I wasn’t too sure how excited I would feel if I saw a lion wandering around when I was on foot) while the middle of the day would be taken as a giant siesta due to the extreme heat and humidity making it difficult to do anything active.

It was a very peaceful and refreshing two days spent in the Delta.  Without much to “do” when resting in camp, we were able to slow down our pace completely and fill the time with conversation in the group, playing games, reading, napping, and taking a swim in the “hopefully – “wait! What was that noise?!!” non-crocodile infested waters.  We even played a great game that relied heavily on charade-like skills and it was thoroughly enjoyed by all.

Safari on foot - sometimes crossing to different islands

Safari on foot – sometimes crossing to different islands

The highlight for me was the late evenings.  We would cook our meals as a large group and eat all around our communal campfire.  Then we’d go out to the riverside and just bask in the glory of the un-illuminated night sky that shone brilliantly with thousands of stars, while simultaneously watching the flashing sparks of the lightning bugs that lit up the air nearer the ground with their glow.  Though difficult at times, we also tried to listen…intently listen – to the beautiful silence that accompanied the hum of the crickets (which Andy humorously dubbed to sound like clanking beer bottles) in the night sky.

Every now and then, the sounds of the crickets were poignantly interrupted with the low groans of the hippos standing nearby, or the laugh of a hyena.  It was eerie, and a little hair-raising, but deliciously exciting and adventuresome at the same time.

Froggy

Froggy

We walked for miles on our game walks and did manage to spot several different kinds of wildlife – elephants, zebra, wildebeest and giraffe among them.  Our guides were enthusiastic to explain anything we might want to know about the delta and how to keep safe when walking so close to these amazing creatures.  We were warned of the false charges that the elephants can make – exhorted to stand our ground, and not run, should one of them decide to.

On the last night, our crew entertained us with local songs and dances around the fire.  Then we played a nerve wracking game called ‘Chief” which by a process of elimination left only the quickest witted amongst us still standing at the conclusion.

Sun setting...

Sun setting…

By the time it was time to turn the mokoros around and head back to Maun, I felt like a more wound-down version of myself and like I’d formed a closer bond with the individuals who decided to come along.  We hadn’t partied, hadn’t sang music loudly till the wee hours of the morning, but we’d thoroughly appreciated the rest, return to nature, and peace that the Delta provided to us.

On arrival back in Maun, we were very grateful to have an hour or so to re-humanize with a shower, and try to check some email, though this turned out to be an exercise merely in frustration.  We were bush camping that evening as we headed out of Botswana in the direction of the Namibian border – which we would cross the following morning, which also just happened to be my birthday.

Climbing the Baobab Tree

Climbing the Baobab Tree

It’s not every birthday that you get to go to Namibia.  But I did.  Funnily enough, on a 56 day trip, it was only on my birthday that I overslept by accident – Maud’s alarm clock failing to wake us up in time for our 6am departure.  We still managed to eat, pack, take down the tent, and use the “facilities” (a hole that you had to dig with a shovel) in under 20 minutes!  The border crossing passed without any more incident than the final foot & mouth disease shoe-washing checkpoint – and two customs’ officers who failed to notice that it was my birthday upon stamping my passport.

It was a long drive day – but we were lucky enough to stop at a supermarket where I decided to buy ice and lots of goodies for myself to enjoy later that night in bush camp #2 – and technically, the 4th night of bush camping in a row.  I ate a donut and got myself custard to have as dessert after dinner.

Birthday celebrations

Birthday celebrations

...and Cake

…and Cake

Our campsite that evening was also unique in that it contained the largest Baobab tree in Namibia.  These trees are significant in that they look like they are “upside down” – meaning their branches appear as if they are, in fact, roots instead.  We had fun taking pics climbing the massive tree as the sun set.

Later, after dinner, we drank and danced to music – and I even sang a song for the group.  I got a birthday cake replete with candles that struggled to stay alight – but all in all – it was a lovely birthday celebration and I was grateful to have it here in the African bush.

It was, as it turned out, entirely ironic that when the party was finally getting going, around 10pm, we were sent to bed after a small scuffle broke out between two of the lads.  One of the few nights that I was in the mood to stay up drinking and dancing…and alas, it was not to be.  Funny how that works out, eh?

Elephants, Slow Fast Food and Soggy Tents

08 Friday May 2015

Posted by Anita in Africa, Botswana

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Animals, Camping, Safari

Elephants in Chobe

Elephants in Chobe

Vic Falls being our last stop in Zimbabwe, we headed off in the direction of our next stop, Chobe National Park in Botswana, close to the Angolan border. As usual, it was with mixed feelings that we acquiesced to returning to the truck, especially now that space for stretching out was in shorter supply, so when we pulled over for a late morning stop at Wimpy (which I haven’t eaten at since I was a small child and it was a hamburger chain in the UK) we were rallied by the prospect of fast food and free wifi (our group descends on free wifi like vultures on a carcass.)

However, this was not going to be a fast experience, and one member of my table was asked to show his receipt for a cheeseburger and coke a total of five times before he was served his food. It turned out to be quite entertaining watching the Wimpy staff come unglued at the prospect of serving so many of us in a short space of time. Finally with our steaming cups of coffee, iPads and iPhones out in abundance, it was like pulling candy from a baby when after only 20 minutes we were rallied, reluctantly, back to Twinga.

Arriving at the lodge/campsite in Chobe National Park, I set about getting my tent and stuff sorted in time for our included boating excursion to view wildlife on the Chobe River. It was very hot, and I was quite upset when I learned with only five minutes left before our pick-up, that there had been a swimming pool I could have had a dip in. Nevertheless, looking at the sky, I grabbed warm layers despite the baking heat, and headed to the truck that would take us to the boat.

Croc

Croc

Three Slovenian doctors were also on our transport and I quickly befriended one of them, Mikha, once we’d settled into chairs on the roof of the boat. I listened with keen interest as he spoke to me of his recently ended three-month volunteer experience as a physician at a trauma hospital in Zambia. Working with limited supplies and with an predominantly HIV-Positive patient pool, he said it had been an incredibly intense learning experience that left him very much in awe of the African doctors and their coping skills, as well as a profound realization for how cushy he’ll have it in comparison as a General Practitioner back in Europe. He said he had also grown very fond of the relaxed method of time keeping Africans employ, namely if a meeting was called to start at 8am, it might not actually begin until 930 when everyone felt like showing up.

The time spent viewing game on the river was very pleasant indeed, if blisteringly hot. The upper deck was occupied mainly by an Australian group who’d taken it upon themselves to bring an entire cooler of cold beer along. It absolutely killed me not being able to have one myself – though I did offer payment for one and was unfortunately, turned down.

Elephant

Elephant

A safari by boat is a much more relaxing experience than in a vehicle. The elephants were happily cavorting in the water, the hippos waddled in the mud, and the crocs stayed cool by keeping their mouths gaping open. Chobe is quite green and was altogether a very pleasant place to call home, if you were an animal (in my opinion, vastly superior surroundings to the harsh arid Serengeti).

We were further rewarded with an incredible sunset as we turned the boat around at the half way point. And then the darkening skies were further enhanced by a rush of storm clouds that began to rumble with thunder. The clouds almost looked like a tornado funnel as the wind picked up and lightning flashed across the sky. It was quite ominous and the temperature plummeted making me super grateful for having brought my warmer layers.

And then the rain fell. And fell.

Hippo at Chobe

Hippo at Chobe

By the time we ran back to the tents on the return journey, the campsite had turned into a sandy swamp. Everyone was running around desperately saving gear from getting wet, and securing rain flies on their tents. Then we all headed to the bar as the only dry refuge in the camp, where we greeted by a rare treat – beer on tap!

The following day was a super early start and it was quite miserable rolling up the wet tents in the soggy ground and getting away by 6am. We had another long drive today, this time to the town of Maun which would be our setting off point for a 3 day/2night trip to the Okavango Delta.

Victoria Falls – Getting Up Close and Personal

04 Monday May 2015

Posted by Anita in Africa, Zambia, Zimbabwe

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Animals, Waterfalls

Victoria Falls from the Zambian side

Victoria Falls from the Zambian side

Standing right at the edge of the falls

Standing right at the edge of the falls

The town of Victoria Falls itself is quite small and as you’d expect, extremely touristy with prices to match. At $15 for a salad for lunch, it felt more like I was back in Bellevue than still in Zimbabwe. But this is home to one of the natural wonders of the world – Victoria Falls – and I was still looking forward to being able to witness and experience this natural phenomenon.

Lots of the group were busy arranging adrenaline activities such as gorge swings and bungee jumps, but I was content in planning my 3 days around the falls themselves, both on the Zimbabwe and Zambian side together with a single excursion to Livingstone Island and Angel’s Pool – which we knew frightfully little about since only Zambian tour agencies offered the activity and therefore the Zimbabwean companies didn’t stand to profit from selling the activity. Luckily, I’d opted to go and gotten the double entry visa, which would enable us to walk across the border and back to Zim on a day trip.

I arrived rather beleaguered and bedraggled after a long and largely sleepless night on the overnight train from Bulowayo. This was a locals’ train, full of Bulowayo workers who were returning to their families in the rural areas of the country for the weekend. It was slow and stopped a lot. Plus, the inside of the train actually made the Indian sleeper trains I’ve journeyed on seem clean and comfortable – the interior was rather smelly, dirty and dysfunctional….but I absolutely loved it. It felt like we had stepped back in time and were experiencing something from a bygone era – and it seemed romantic and ideational to me.

Afternoon Tea at Victoria Falls Hotel

Afternoon Tea at Victoria Falls Hotel

However, after settling into our two carriages, one for the party-going crowd, and one for those who actually wanted to sleep – it became very obvious early on that the wishes of the former were going to supersede the latter. Walls were paper thin, and despite the fact that our carriage had maybe 5 or 6 cabins, some containing families with small children, the Oasis revelers decided to blare music, dance and sing till 3am…forcing the rest of us to succumb to a sleepless and frustrating experience. My personal request for them to turn down the music around midnight was ignored and laughed at, which resulted in the state I aforementioned upon arrival.

Compounding my bad mood, the truck had not yet arrived to the campsite when we got there, and there wasn’t anywhere to even sit while we waited for our things so we could shower or change clothes. Eventually the truck arrived, and I managed to re-humanize myself to the point where I felt I could go and enjoy a lavish afternoon tea at the Victoria Falls Hotel.

We were joined by 3 additional group members in Victoria Falls, so our truck experience was gonna get more crowded but I was also looking forward to getting to know the new travelers. One of them was Australian, and I enjoyed chatting to him over our clotted creamed scones, finger sandwiches and cakes in the impressive garden setting of the high tea. It was also fun sharing the English tradition with the Frenchies – Sandrine and Benoit had not had high tea before and seemed to really enjoy it.

Photo Bombed at Zambezi Gorge

Photo Bombed at Zambezi Gorge

Other than the high prices, the other surprising fact about Vic Falls was the abundance of wild animals that just freely wandered around the town, especially after dark, making it slightly hazardous to do so. Warthogs were in abundance, and two members of our group were also false charged by elephants early in the morning.

By far, the highlight of my stay was the Zambian excursion to Livingstone Island – a land mass that stands directly at the top of the falls, lending itself to access to water that is literally on the precipitous and highly dangerous (especially in the wet season) edge of the 108 meter water fall.

We loaded onto a speed boat for the ten minute boat ride out to the island where we were met by a guide who talked to us about David Livingstone’s first trip to the island and how it got it’s name. Devil’s Pool – the more famous of the two pools that one can sit/swim in at the top of the falls, was closed for the season due to the high volume of water. However, the guide assured us that the only real difference between the two pools was that one could walk to Angel’s pool and swim in Devil’s. In his opinion, the view from Angel’s pool was superior.

At first, we were directed to don our swim suits and shoes and make our way across the muddy marshes to a viewpoint that was very close to the edge of the thunderous cascading water. This, in and of itself was extremely thrilling, and I managed to get some great photographs (though my camera has ultimately paid the high price of being water-damaged – the screen has short circuited, making each photo a completely random guessing activity -adding yet another technology failure to my trip thus far.)

Then, words fail to describe what it felt like when the guides lead the way to the Angel’s Pool itself. Holding our hands one by one, we were lead to a mound of grass where the view was completely unobscured all the way down to the very bottom of the canyon and river below the falls. I couldn’t believe my eyes and heartily agreed when my guide assured me “You will never be able to do or see this anywhere else in the world.”

For the fourth time in my travels, a place possessed such beauty that I found my eyes welling up with tears all on their own (for those interested, the other three are Ayers Rock, Mt McKinley, and Machu Picchu.)

Inadequately comforted by the two ropes outstretched at the falls’ end of the pool, supposedly a last ditch grab hold should one of us lose our footing in the rushing forceful water, I followed the guide into Angel’s. All holding hands together, we ventured and sat in the pool of water literally watching as the water left our bodies and cascaded 108 meters only a handful of feet away from us. I let out an automatic shriek as one of our group did momentarily stumble and floated into one of the guides’ bodies who fortunately grabbed him and set him back upright. This was a location that was altogether wondrous/exciting while simultaneously terrifying. Left to imagine the worst, I found myself quite eager to get my feet back on dry land after the first few minutes.

But what a rush.

Afterwards, we were literally spoilt rotten by an incredible breakfast of Eggs Benedict, bacon, sweet breads, jam and coffee before being jetted back to the luxurious boat launch of the Royal Livingstone Hotel.

Baboon at the falls

Baboon at the falls

As for the visitor areas of the falls themselves, we spent that afternoon exploring the Zambian side, and I had enjoyed the Zim side the day prior.   Based upon the numerous and conflicting opinions as to which side offered better views, I have concluded that it depended more upon the weather and prevailing wind on the day you chose to make your visit, than any objective aesthetic quality. Personally, I found the Zambian side to be far more impressive in scope, and the additional walking paths lent themselves to making the excursion more interesting. We spent a good few hours’ taking in the various viewpoints on both sides of this natural wonder, and I had the additional fun experience of being slapped on the hand by a baboon who was reaching for my water bottle. Additionally, on the Zambian side, one is able to walk down to the river level, adding an additional perspective on this immense landmark.

A final memorable encounter occurred on the Zim side, when Nessa and I met with a man by the name of David who was born and raised in Zim – I believe I mentioned him in a previous post. He was back in Zim visiting sites that he remembered from the war of 75-81. He hadn’t been back in the country since and had re-made his home in South Africa. He told us, emotionally, what it had felt like to come across a tree at one remote location south of the falls along the Zambezi, where he and three of his cherished and since long passed away friends had engraved their name and the date.

Malingering on the current state of affairs in South Africa, David spoke about his plans to move to Australia. However, he also spoke with sadness about leaving his beloved Africa. He assured us that no matter what, this land would forever be in his blood and heart and nowhere else would ever feel like home.

I for one believed him.

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anitagotravel

anitagotravel

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