For this post to make sense you have to understand that it takes place after Kruger Park and Before Cape Town. Right then, let's continue...
After our 2 for 1 tire blowout outside of Nelspruit, we headed out for Swaziland again the next morning, this time with a much nicer ride, a VW Polo. We successfully navigated the winding, mountainous and eventually dirt roads through some beautiful scenery and made it through border security at Josefdal (2 buildings, 3 staff members, some livestock). The four of us (we're still with the Maltese couple at this point) had a pretty good lunch at a very local restaurant at Pigg's Peak, Swaziland. However, par for the course and not at all to my surprise, about an hour into the country the dashboard exploded. That is, a warning light and its lovely warning bell came on. This is a good point to note that we lived with this bell for the next 5 days.
A quick consultation of the car's manual informed us that we could be dealing one of three problems: a) I'm driving with the hand brake on (nope); b) the brake fluid is low (nope); or c) "There is a problem with the brake system. Stop driving immediately and seek a certified mechanic's assistance." So faced with option 'c', and the Maltese's phone not working in Swazi, we pulled into the nearest gas station to find a phone to call my now close friends at the car rental roadside assistance. Not having any Swazi coins for the phone, I bought a Swazi phone card, which of course didn't work for calling South Africa (50 Rand down the drain). And if you think the rental company had an office in Swazi you would be kidding yourself. Without any alternative, and not noticing any obvious problem with the brakes, I very slowly drove us the ~50 km to our hostel in Mlilwane Game Reserve.
We were determined not to waste the day, so Les and I dropped our gear in our beautiful rondavel with a breathtaking view of the surrounding vast expanse of hilly savannah and went for a hike around the park. We definitely would not have been able to do this in Kruger, but because there were no serious predators here wandering was allowed. On our way we ran into a few zebra hanging out in a clearing, a family of warthogs, and a beautiful scene of about 50 Impalas grazing in a wooded area. Back at the hostel we cooled off in the pool. Although there was a fence around the hostel property, at least 5 or 6 warthogs managed to get into the yard to chow down on the grass. I can't really explain how unreal it was to be floating in the pool, watching a mom and baby warthog roaming less than 20 feet from me. By the way, warthogs are extremely dangerous as they have sharp tusks and will defend their young like nobody's business. Later that evening we had a 'Braai' or BBQ where we ate.... Warthog!!!
One of Lesley's must-do's for the trip, and something that I was excited about, was a horse ride through the wilderness. So that's exactly what we did early the next morning. We were booked for 9am but the lady came around to knock on our door at 7:30am to tell us that we actually had to go at 8am - "Sorry". We came across some zebra, which was great because both animals are not at all scared of each other, and because they are distantly related, they actually have the same greetings which is a kind of head bob. Very interesting to watch. Unfortunately, Les was the only person out of the five of us with any horseback experience, so we were not allowed to move any faster than a slow walk. Naturally the horses were not informed of this, so when a small group of Impalas got spooked behind one of the dutch girls that was with us, her horse bolted. She made things 10 times worse when she started screaming like a banshee. I hope I won't offend anyone when I say this, because she wasn't hurt more than incuring a few scrapes, but it was quite an experience to watch her get throw over the horse's head to the ground. She didn't get back on the horse. Later on that ride we added another animal to our sighting list: two crocodiles (which, by the way, live in the same pond as hippos, although on opposite banks).
Done with nature, we packed up our gear and move 30 km down the road to another hostel. We picked this spot because it offered volunteer opportunities on a daily basis. As there was an orphanage up the road, we drove over there to find out what we could do. I have to say that I definitely would not have made the effort had Lesley not had her heart set on it. Before participating I felt almost guilty and like a stupid tourist on an adventure for offering only a day of my time. What good can be done in a day, right? Well it turned out that they actually didn't have any food for dinner that night and didn't know how they would feed the 37 orphans. So with a list in hand from the headmistress, we did some shopping and returned with giant bags of maize meal, potatos, onions, fruit and vegetables, and with a dozen childproof scizzors, which we were told was a luxury item that they have never had. We spent the rest of the afternoon throwing a coat of primer (aka painting) on the walls of some of the new classrooms under construction. It did feel good to do something helpful, but at the same time it underscored how much need there is in the world. All in all, the look on the kids' faces just to see us there and to get a hug was worth the trip.
Coffee Bay
Leaving Swaziland in our death-trap-mobile the next morning, we had delusions of driving all the way to Coffee Bay, which is on the Wild Coast abutting the Indian Ocean. By this point I had been able to convince Lesley that the brakes were probably hopefully certainly not a problem (I joke, but if I had any concerns we would have ditched the car immediately so don't worry mom!). Driving all day, we only made it to Pietermaritzburg and gave up, hosteling for the night. Heading almost directly south from Swaziland, we ended up inadvertently driving through the Transkei ('trans' = over; Kei = a river). Those of you up on your history will recognize that this was one of the ten 'homelands' under the apartheid system. Wikipedia says it best: "In South Africa, under apartheid, blacks were stripped of their citizenship, legally becoming citizens of one of ten, theoretically sovereign, bantustans (homelands)... The homeland system disenfranchised black people residing in "white South Africa" by restricting their voting rights to the black homelands, the least economically-productive areas of the country." In my understanding, if you were black and so much as didn't have your passbook, or were unemployed, you could be 'deported' to these arbitrary homelands - permanently. Needless to say, this was our most striking brush with large scale poverty in South Africa. The Transkei appears to be comprised mostly of mud hut villages with no electricity for most people, who are primarily still subsistence farmers. A far cry from the metropolitan areas of Pretoria and Cape Town.
We pulled off the main highway about 3 hours outside of Pietermaritzburg onto the road to Coffee Bay, which quickly became what I want to say is a dirt road but would be more precise to say a 'rock' road half of the distance, with the other half being 'paved' (note: paved means 50% potholes deeper than my forearm. And guess what? WE GOT ANOTHER FLAT TIRE! FUCK! Thankfully this time it was only one, and we had a proper spare, not one of these temp spares that get you 40 km on a good road. A cop stopped and actually finished changing the tire for me, which was nice although my cynical side says he was looking for a donation.
Coffee Bay is essentially the bay and 2 backpacker hostels with the assorted tourist services they support, with the surrounding hills spotted with rondavels. It's absolutely gorgeous. Being here was a complete escape from reality; cut off from hustle and bustle, stress and, for a day and a half, electricity. The bar at our hostel (which was supposedly the quieter one of the two) was always packed with tired, shirtless surfers or surfer wannabees and bathed in laid back tunes coming from the stereo (I dont' remember the last time I heard so much beach boys, or if I had ever before had Surfin' USA stuck in my head for an entire day.) We stayed 3 nights here doing absolutely nothing productive and it felt great.
Arriving late the first day meant it was a writeoff... Day two we went on a bit of a tour of the adjacent village to learn about Zulu culture and contemporary ways of life. As some of you may already know, in many African cultures, when a man wants to marry a woman, he must offer to the woman's father a 'Libola', a type of reverse dowry that usually comprises 12-15 cows. The female, of course, has no choice in the matter. As a feminist, an idealist and someone who always has her heart in the right place (all qualities I greatly admire in her), Lesley had a really hard time dealing with this reality. Essentially, "these women are being bought and sold," was her reaction. And she is absolutely right. It's a human rights issue and although things are slowly changing in the cities, rural African women are being deprived of their fundamental freedom of choice and I've come to the conclusion that it's not ethnocentric to say that this is wrong. I don't know how to change it, but learning about it I think was a great thing for both Lesley and me and I know she is going to use that learning experience to change the world.
On a lighter note, I almost died 3 times the next day. We went out for a surfing lesson at 10am Africa time (11am actual time). Everything was going fine, and I was standing up on the board halfway thru the day. After a quick break to puke up all the salt water I swallowed and to have a drink and catch my breath (surfing kicks your ass, even if you're in shape!), I went out again. I decided to go a bit further so I could catch some bigger waves. After no success, I raised my head up long enough to realize I'm getting pretty damn far from the shore. People are looking like ants. Ok well I'll start paddling back. After about 5 minutes of paddling, I'm close to twice the original distance from shore. I finally clued in that, every time a 3 metre wave came by, I wasn't carried forward on the crest, but I was being sucked back down the tail end of the wave, out toward Antarctica. Hah. Nobody bothered to tell me about rip tides. By this time I've finally accepted that I'm in trouble and I start waving to Lesley who has been watching me (I find out later, in terror) to get help. I also accept that I'll probably have to just hang onto the surfboard and see what happens. Thankfully my guardian angel appeared in the form of our surf instructor behind me and he started yelling at me to paddle across the wave to get out of the current instead of toward the shore. By this time my arms were completely useless and I literally couldn't paddle to save my life. But with his help and my legs and a lucky wave, I made it back to shore. I didn't fully comprehend how much trouble I was in until much later, when it was too late to thank Johnny for saving my life. So thanks, Johnny.
My second adventure came when Les and I jumped on horses later that day and went for a trot around the hillside. TONS OF FUN! Our first stop was the beach where we got to gallop almost full speed on the shore. Who knew cliches could be so worthwhile? Keep in mind that my lifetime horse riding experience is limited to the one hour walking in Swaziland and sitting on a horse for 2 minutes at Travis's birthday party when I was 5. The rest of the ride we did mostly walking but we did a bit of trotting and cantering up and down paths in the hills. Felt great to be going fast on a living, breathing animal with that much power. Near the end of the ride we made our way to the top of a cliff overlooking the ocean. We started galloping along the crest of the cliff so fast that I started to get airborne! Had I not kept my cool and been able to slow the horse down I would have gone flying for sure. And the prospect of doing that without a helmet was not appealing. Not to toot my own horn, but I feel like a natural on a horse; the controls felt very intuitive and Lesley will be happy to confirm that ;)
My third, embellished, near death experience for the day came right before bed. Our room was infested by mosquitos, so I devised a cunning plan to hang my mosquito net from the ceiling lamp. All was well until it pulled the bulb and fixture right from the ceiling. In my slightly intoxicated state, I decided to fix it. As soon as I touched the metal contact with the metal fixture, the sparks started flying. Whoops, forgot to turn off the switch. Not to worry, I'm fine and it makes for great stories!
That evening, before dinner, we walked down to the beach and split a bottle of wine, watching the sun set, and had a great philosophical conversation about something now forgotten. One of the things I love about Lesley is that she's the most intelligent woman I have ever met, and it makes for some amazing conversations. Hearing the dinner bell, we rushed back to the hostel. After dinner, we had a drumming lesson, then the pros got together and put on a show for an hour. 6 African drums, a few beers and no electricity in a lightning storm can combine to be shockingly mesmerizing.
My memory fails me, but for our 3rd day in Coffee Bay I think the only thing we did was chill out during the day. Our failed quest for the internet took up part of the time but I honestly think we spent the day playing chess and doing f* all. That night, however, was the full moon party. The local Sangoma or medicine man came down to bless the party, then we had some traditional dancing by about 10 of the local girls. The way they move is absolutely incredibly and seemingly beyond what a human should be able to do. They make it look effortless. And to see these 12 year old girls beating the crap out of a drum for 30 minutes and achieving that kind of sound was fairly impressive. The rest of the night was spent dancing and drinking and what can I say? Just another day in paradise...
The next day we got back into the car, turned the music up louder than the dinging warning light, and drove the 4 or so hours to East London, the closest place to catch a flight to Cape Town, and conveniently somewhere we could ditch this increasingly troublesome vehicle. The cops were unfortunately out in full force on the highway and I got nabbed for what I think was 100 in an 80. Of course instead of being asked for my license and registration, I was asked for 500 Rand to make my troubles go away. I bartered him down to 200 rand (about $30) and was again on my way. My first experience with bribery!!!! Yay!!!
We made it to the boarding gate with 20 minutes to spare, and arrived in beautiful Cape Town 3 days ago, so I guess sometimes things do work out without a hassle! Lesley and I are trying to make the most of our last 4 days together so I'm going to leave it there and go keep her company while she sketches. After that, I have to figure out how to get to Namibia....
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Real Africa, and the pictures of lions to prove it
Of course by 'real' Africa I mean the ethnocentric stereotypical conception of the 'wild and untamed dark continent' that popular culture has raised us on. Having said that, visiting Kruger National Park was an incredibly authentic experience. While many Africans live in cities and have probably never seen a lion or an elephant, the natural world is obviously a big part of what comes to mind when one thinks about 'Africa'.
Venturing out from Pretoria for a second round, this time with my partner in crime Lesley by my side, we and another couple from Malta made our way toward Kruger to go on safari. The first day was spent half travelling and half exploring the Blyde River Canyon, the 3rd largest canyon in the world after the Grand in Arizona and Fish River in Namibia (which I will be visiting next month). Our first stop in Blyde was 'God's Window' - a fitting name for the view; we were overlooking a vast, lush plain. Too bad it was so hazy that day. From there we made our way to the 'potholes', an area with a river running over rocks that had the effect of carving out the rocks to form hundreds of formations that look like potholes. Truly beautiful, I think this was still Lesley's favourite. Our final sightseeing trip for the day was to the 3 rondavels (another word for a round mud hut with a thatched roof). These seemingly impossible formations are of 3 gigantic rocks that have been eroded over millions of years to look like 3 rondavels. I know, it's mind blowing how often things are named after things they look like. To end the day, our driver dropped us at a tribal village to learn about how the Shangaan people 'used' to live. Les and I found this experience a little tacky and unauthentic, something like a pioneer village in Canada, but I thought it was still a good experience. We were taken around the village and told about how things would function, were shown how they make maize meal, straw mats, etc. At night we had a traditional meal of maize meal or 'pap', pumpkin, chicken, cabbage and essentially the same stuff I had in Lesotho and have been having all over the country. After dark the boys that lived there did a traditional Zulu dance which was actually really damn cool I thought. We slept in a traditional rondavel like the one in Lesotho with a door made of some sticks lashed together.
Early next morning we were dropped at a camp just inside the Orpen gate of Kruger National Park (which by the way is the size of Israel and completely untamed) and picked our tent. Soon after we got into an open sided truck and went hunting for animals. Our guide told us it was one of the best days she has ever had in her decades of experience. Within the first 5 minutes we had seen a pack of cheetahs, impalas (a kind of deer) and an elephant. Throughout the day and over the next we ran into some Kudu (type of moose), hippos, over 2 dozen giraffe, a variety of birds including vultures, eagles and banana beak birds, a hyena nursing it's cub on the side of the road, turtles, wildebeest, zebras, a herd of elephants, warthogs, cape buffalo, baboons, and a family of about 10 ostrich. The final day we went on a night drive, as some animals are nocturnal. We managed to see a pack of hyenas hunting and finally I got to see my Rhino even if it was for a few seconds and I couldn't get a picture! Interesting to note is that the animals were almost completely unfazed by our presence. Apparently they cannot see a vehicle as anything but an unrecognizable but non-threatening animal until humans stick their appendages out the window.
The night drive had the unfortunate side effect of strengthening my dislike of tourists. I could not believe how childish people were acting - making way too much noise and pushing and shoving each other. This one particular gentleman had me laughing out loud because of how excited he got to see a bush baby (type of tree creature - not really sure how to describe it. The guy wouldn't stop going on about how "Oh my God it just ran from that branch to that branch, that's magical! Look, now he's over there... quick, everybody come look!" As usual, the pictures speak for themselves.
After Kruger we were dropped in the cultural abyss of Nelspruit. Unable to get transportation to Swaziland on the same day, we were forced to relax for a day which I spent far too drunk in the pool of our hostel (I have the pictures of myself hugging a giant octopus to prove it.)
The next day we rented a car with the intention to drive into Swazi with the Maltese couple. I was nervous about driving on the left for the first time, and my experience with stick shift is limited and only compounded by the gear shift being used by the left hand, but I was determined to learn. The car arrived late but hey at least we're on our way now, right guys!?!?! God: "Haha no sorry Mike, not quite yet." As fate would have it, we got 15 mins outside of the city then "Bam-Bam. Hissssssss." Not one but TWO flat tires on the same side. I had hit a pot hole. 2 flat tires minus one spare tire equals... still one flat tire. Thank God the Maltese couple had a cell phone to call a tow truck. Our delusions of pressing on into Swazi were corrected after waiting 3 hours for the truck to arrive despite repeated assurances that it was 10 minutes away at hour 1 and 2. The driver was instructed not to bring us a spare tire, but to tow us back to the airport, about 20 mins drive PAST the hostel. On the upside, we got a much nicer replacement car and I got to ride in the bed of the tow truck with the wind in my hair and white knuckles. With night falling, the four of us headed back to the hostel for another night of drinks. The next day we set out for Swaziland. But that, is a story for another post...
Venturing out from Pretoria for a second round, this time with my partner in crime Lesley by my side, we and another couple from Malta made our way toward Kruger to go on safari. The first day was spent half travelling and half exploring the Blyde River Canyon, the 3rd largest canyon in the world after the Grand in Arizona and Fish River in Namibia (which I will be visiting next month). Our first stop in Blyde was 'God's Window' - a fitting name for the view; we were overlooking a vast, lush plain. Too bad it was so hazy that day. From there we made our way to the 'potholes', an area with a river running over rocks that had the effect of carving out the rocks to form hundreds of formations that look like potholes. Truly beautiful, I think this was still Lesley's favourite. Our final sightseeing trip for the day was to the 3 rondavels (another word for a round mud hut with a thatched roof). These seemingly impossible formations are of 3 gigantic rocks that have been eroded over millions of years to look like 3 rondavels. I know, it's mind blowing how often things are named after things they look like. To end the day, our driver dropped us at a tribal village to learn about how the Shangaan people 'used' to live. Les and I found this experience a little tacky and unauthentic, something like a pioneer village in Canada, but I thought it was still a good experience. We were taken around the village and told about how things would function, were shown how they make maize meal, straw mats, etc. At night we had a traditional meal of maize meal or 'pap', pumpkin, chicken, cabbage and essentially the same stuff I had in Lesotho and have been having all over the country. After dark the boys that lived there did a traditional Zulu dance which was actually really damn cool I thought. We slept in a traditional rondavel like the one in Lesotho with a door made of some sticks lashed together.
Early next morning we were dropped at a camp just inside the Orpen gate of Kruger National Park (which by the way is the size of Israel and completely untamed) and picked our tent. Soon after we got into an open sided truck and went hunting for animals. Our guide told us it was one of the best days she has ever had in her decades of experience. Within the first 5 minutes we had seen a pack of cheetahs, impalas (a kind of deer) and an elephant. Throughout the day and over the next we ran into some Kudu (type of moose), hippos, over 2 dozen giraffe, a variety of birds including vultures, eagles and banana beak birds, a hyena nursing it's cub on the side of the road, turtles, wildebeest, zebras, a herd of elephants, warthogs, cape buffalo, baboons, and a family of about 10 ostrich. The final day we went on a night drive, as some animals are nocturnal. We managed to see a pack of hyenas hunting and finally I got to see my Rhino even if it was for a few seconds and I couldn't get a picture! Interesting to note is that the animals were almost completely unfazed by our presence. Apparently they cannot see a vehicle as anything but an unrecognizable but non-threatening animal until humans stick their appendages out the window.
The night drive had the unfortunate side effect of strengthening my dislike of tourists. I could not believe how childish people were acting - making way too much noise and pushing and shoving each other. This one particular gentleman had me laughing out loud because of how excited he got to see a bush baby (type of tree creature - not really sure how to describe it. The guy wouldn't stop going on about how "Oh my God it just ran from that branch to that branch, that's magical! Look, now he's over there... quick, everybody come look!" As usual, the pictures speak for themselves.
After Kruger we were dropped in the cultural abyss of Nelspruit. Unable to get transportation to Swaziland on the same day, we were forced to relax for a day which I spent far too drunk in the pool of our hostel (I have the pictures of myself hugging a giant octopus to prove it.)
The next day we rented a car with the intention to drive into Swazi with the Maltese couple. I was nervous about driving on the left for the first time, and my experience with stick shift is limited and only compounded by the gear shift being used by the left hand, but I was determined to learn. The car arrived late but hey at least we're on our way now, right guys!?!?! God: "Haha no sorry Mike, not quite yet." As fate would have it, we got 15 mins outside of the city then "Bam-Bam. Hissssssss." Not one but TWO flat tires on the same side. I had hit a pot hole. 2 flat tires minus one spare tire equals... still one flat tire. Thank God the Maltese couple had a cell phone to call a tow truck. Our delusions of pressing on into Swazi were corrected after waiting 3 hours for the truck to arrive despite repeated assurances that it was 10 minutes away at hour 1 and 2. The driver was instructed not to bring us a spare tire, but to tow us back to the airport, about 20 mins drive PAST the hostel. On the upside, we got a much nicer replacement car and I got to ride in the bed of the tow truck with the wind in my hair and white knuckles. With night falling, the four of us headed back to the hostel for another night of drinks. The next day we set out for Swaziland. But that, is a story for another post...
Takin' a breather in Cape Town
Ahhh... time to take a few deep breaths. There's so much to tell so I'll break it down into a few different posts. It's been a hell of a two weeks jumping from one end of South Africa to the other and Lesley and I have seen more in that time than some people see in a lifetime.
For the last two days we've been recuperating in Cape Town, which has quickly become my favourite city in the world. For a metropolis of 4 million people, it's surprisingly laid back. I have a feeling it has something to do with the amazing scenery and great weather. Cape Town is situated on a peninsula at the Cape of Good Hope, basically the southern tip of Africa that separates the Atlantic and Indian Oceans. In the centre of town is Table Mountain, a 1000+ metre high, flat topped outcropping that is visible from any vantage within the city. Half of the time it is covered by the 'table cloth', clouds that form around the top and gently spill over the sides of the peak, disappearing into nothing. Talk about having a view. We got some great pictures of this from the plane when, after flying from East London over a grey void for an hour and a half, the clouds suddenly broke to be replaced by a steep mountainside drop. The temperature has been quite a bit cooler than the rest of S. Africa which has been a nice break in my opinion, although Lesley, in her sweater, thinks I'm nuts for wearing shorts.
Cape-tonians (?) are pretty 'cool' for lack of a better world. Trendy, beautiful, tanned and seemingly carefree. Admittedly, like most urban centres in the country, this applies mostly to whites with it being far more common for blacks to be stuck with the lower-end jobs. I plan to dedicate an entire post to race relations here at some point so I won't dwell on it now. The music scene is a progressive meld of rock, dance music and African drumming. I haven't heard any hip hop yet which makes me happy.
The first day we were here, Les and I decided to splurge a little bit after being stuck in the bush for a while and go for a really enjoyable oyster/steak-in-chocolate-chilli-sauce/fresh fish dinner at an ' expensive' restaurant (the term is relative - it was about $30pp including the best bottle of white wine I've had). What struck me as odd was that, despite this being a classy restaurant with patrons in collared shirts and ties and nicer dresses, I still received the most friendly treatment from the owner and wait staff despite being in shorts and a tshirt with my hair flying all over the place. In a similar establishment in Canada (or the US or Europe for that matter) I would have been staring down the upturned nose of the same people and feeling like I really don't belong there. It was a really nice to have my expectations challenged.
Day two in town happened to be a Sunday, which meant that a massive flea market was happening down by the waterfront. Lesley and I walked around the endless stalls for a few hours. She found a great deal on a quality bongo drum so she's still grinning. We made our way to the harbour for a quick lunch where I had some of the best smoked salmon in history. Although the harbour is clearly the most touristy area of the city, that didn't take anything away from it. The place is absolutely gorgeous and is on an entirely different plane of existence than Toronto's waterfront. Half the reason I suppose is that it is still a working harbour. If anything gave me a sense that Cape Town is a thriving, healthy city, it was the bustling waterfront. In the evening we went for a few drinks at some local establishments on Long Street, the major bar area and crashed early (this traveling shit takes a lot out of you!)
Yesterday, we had a pseudo-surreal experience. We took a train down to 'Simon's Town' which is about 30 minutes south on the peninsula. It's the archetypal quaint, picturesque (insert other rhetorical descriptors here) seaside village cum rich suburb. The main attraction and our reason for visiting was the penguin colony that resides at aptly-named Boulder Beach. I truly had no idea what to expect. Our taxi dropped us in the parking lot and immediately we could see at least two dozen penguins sitting on the rocks not even 20 feet away. I didn't expect to see so many. I could have gone home happy, but then we actually walked down to the beach. There were freaking hundreds of them (About 3,000 in the colony I learned later). We could move amongst the throng of creatures -- that by the way you can't help but laugh at when they walk -- without causing them any distress. They just sat there looking (I'm almost convinced smiling) at us! Of course, as Lesley can tell you, if you do get within about 2 feet of them they do have a tendency to lunge for your fingers. Another experience in a series of irregular adventures, we had a picnic lunch on a rock in the middle of a group of about 50 of them. Wild. We ended the night with a late dinner and some short lived dancing at a club that might not have been disappointing had I been dj'ing (and by dj'ing I mean changing alternative rock CDs). The rest of our week is up in the air but there's a good chance a cable car trip to the top of Table Mountain and a tour of wine country will factor into our agenda somewhere.
For the last two days we've been recuperating in Cape Town, which has quickly become my favourite city in the world. For a metropolis of 4 million people, it's surprisingly laid back. I have a feeling it has something to do with the amazing scenery and great weather. Cape Town is situated on a peninsula at the Cape of Good Hope, basically the southern tip of Africa that separates the Atlantic and Indian Oceans. In the centre of town is Table Mountain, a 1000+ metre high, flat topped outcropping that is visible from any vantage within the city. Half of the time it is covered by the 'table cloth', clouds that form around the top and gently spill over the sides of the peak, disappearing into nothing. Talk about having a view. We got some great pictures of this from the plane when, after flying from East London over a grey void for an hour and a half, the clouds suddenly broke to be replaced by a steep mountainside drop. The temperature has been quite a bit cooler than the rest of S. Africa which has been a nice break in my opinion, although Lesley, in her sweater, thinks I'm nuts for wearing shorts.
Cape-tonians (?) are pretty 'cool' for lack of a better world. Trendy, beautiful, tanned and seemingly carefree. Admittedly, like most urban centres in the country, this applies mostly to whites with it being far more common for blacks to be stuck with the lower-end jobs. I plan to dedicate an entire post to race relations here at some point so I won't dwell on it now. The music scene is a progressive meld of rock, dance music and African drumming. I haven't heard any hip hop yet which makes me happy.
The first day we were here, Les and I decided to splurge a little bit after being stuck in the bush for a while and go for a really enjoyable oyster/steak-in-chocolate-chilli-sauce/fresh fish dinner at an ' expensive' restaurant (the term is relative - it was about $30pp including the best bottle of white wine I've had). What struck me as odd was that, despite this being a classy restaurant with patrons in collared shirts and ties and nicer dresses, I still received the most friendly treatment from the owner and wait staff despite being in shorts and a tshirt with my hair flying all over the place. In a similar establishment in Canada (or the US or Europe for that matter) I would have been staring down the upturned nose of the same people and feeling like I really don't belong there. It was a really nice to have my expectations challenged.
Day two in town happened to be a Sunday, which meant that a massive flea market was happening down by the waterfront. Lesley and I walked around the endless stalls for a few hours. She found a great deal on a quality bongo drum so she's still grinning. We made our way to the harbour for a quick lunch where I had some of the best smoked salmon in history. Although the harbour is clearly the most touristy area of the city, that didn't take anything away from it. The place is absolutely gorgeous and is on an entirely different plane of existence than Toronto's waterfront. Half the reason I suppose is that it is still a working harbour. If anything gave me a sense that Cape Town is a thriving, healthy city, it was the bustling waterfront. In the evening we went for a few drinks at some local establishments on Long Street, the major bar area and crashed early (this traveling shit takes a lot out of you!)
Yesterday, we had a pseudo-surreal experience. We took a train down to 'Simon's Town' which is about 30 minutes south on the peninsula. It's the archetypal quaint, picturesque (insert other rhetorical descriptors here) seaside village cum rich suburb. The main attraction and our reason for visiting was the penguin colony that resides at aptly-named Boulder Beach. I truly had no idea what to expect. Our taxi dropped us in the parking lot and immediately we could see at least two dozen penguins sitting on the rocks not even 20 feet away. I didn't expect to see so many. I could have gone home happy, but then we actually walked down to the beach. There were freaking hundreds of them (About 3,000 in the colony I learned later). We could move amongst the throng of creatures -- that by the way you can't help but laugh at when they walk -- without causing them any distress. They just sat there looking (I'm almost convinced smiling) at us! Of course, as Lesley can tell you, if you do get within about 2 feet of them they do have a tendency to lunge for your fingers. Another experience in a series of irregular adventures, we had a picnic lunch on a rock in the middle of a group of about 50 of them. Wild. We ended the night with a late dinner and some short lived dancing at a club that might not have been disappointing had I been dj'ing (and by dj'ing I mean changing alternative rock CDs). The rest of our week is up in the air but there's a good chance a cable car trip to the top of Table Mountain and a tour of wine country will factor into our agenda somewhere.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Still kickin'
I am indeed alive, I just really haven't been by a computer in the last little while. But am now in the metropolis of Cape Town so should have an entry up tomorrow at the latest. Peace out.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
I traveled thru Lesotho with a hard boiled egg in my pocket...
... And the egg didn't even crack, so although it was rough, it couldn't have been that bad. I wonder if the concept of using a hard boiled egg as a 'barometer' of the ruggedness of a country could catch on?
It's been an inspiring last few days traveling out of Pretoria and into the Drakensberg Mountains and through Lesotho (pronounced Le-soo-too), the country surrounded by S. Africa (or as some say, on top of S. Africa, as the lowest point is 1,100m above sea level). The day I arrived in the Northern 'Drak' I opted not to waste any more time by the pool and did a quick hike with a Finnish lady to the beautiful Tiger Falls. After 5 minutes on the trail we had ran into a family of babboons which was a lot of fun.
The next day I went out on an all-day, fairly strenuous guided hike to one of the highest points in the Drak (~3100m), the Amphitheatre. It's called that because this 8-km long, 1000m high sheer cliff face forms a crescent that looks like, you guessed it, an amphitheatre. The weather that day was a mixed blessing; because the mountain was shrouded in fog, we missed the best vistas, but it did make for a really eerie experience, literally walking in the clouds. The hills in some areas were full of babboons. At one point we rounded a corner and either scared these guys or they were fighting amongst themselves - the ones we could see began to start screeching, which set off a chain reaction across the mountain with what I would estimate as 100's of babboons all having a bird. Because of the terrain, the echoes were absolutely haunting. What an amazing feeling that unfortunately can't be explained with words. Toward the end of the trail we had to climb down 2 25 metre chain ladders over fatal drops. Extremely exhilarating. I'll let my pictures do the rest of the talking on this.
Wanting to spend at least a few days in Lesotho just to say I was there, I joined another guided tour into the country the next day and had them drop me off there. Our first stop in this village of roughly 1,000 people was the elementary school. In this remote area of the country, visitors are not very common, so the kids absolutely loved us and were mesmerized by our digital cameras. They were so damn cute, begging to have their picture taken, and posing for the cam. Later in the day we made a quick hike to see some San Bushmen cave paintings that were thousands of years old. Unfortunately between being worn out and vandalized, my camera couldn't pick them up well. Another notable highlight was our stop for some pineapple beer, which they make out of sorghum. Wouldn't be half bad if it wasn't flat (they don't exactly have bottling facilities here, so the 14 tourists shared one giant cup.)
Next came a moment that will be burned into my mind forever - waving goodbye to the other tourists as I came to fully grasp the gravity of my situation. I'm in Lesotho, in a mountain farming village that is disconnected from the world, that has no electricity or plumbing, and I'm not even sure where I am. Shit...
But Damn what a great experience!!! My host Kabelo, the grade 7 teacher, took me for a little walk around the village to buy dinner (chicken), then we got into his mud hut with a thatched roof to cook. I got the feeling that he was one of the more wealthy individuals in the village as he actually had a gas stove, a bed, a linoleum floor and certain other trappings of 'civilization'. I have to say I had no freaking clue what I was doing when it came to making dinner as they do things slightly different 'round those parts. He had me break up the chicken with my hands - no problem. Now where do i wash my hands? Oh right, we just share the dirty rag. I walked around for the next 30 minutes feeling like an idiot for worrying about salmonella, but eventually got over it and, like the romans, ate with my dirty hands. We also cooked half a cabbage, which his wife pulled out of the garden (he had me water the cabbage patch after dinner... jealous?), and something called 'pabh', which is a very bland boiled maize meal that is eaten for all 3 meals, every day.
Washing the dishes was awesome. I used a basin, a bit of boiled water, and the same dirty chicken rag. And I'm still alive!!! After dinner I was pretty tired. Kabelo wanted to give me his nice hut with the double bed while he, his wife and his 9 month old baby slept in the spare hut on mats. I absolutely refused to displace his entire family and took the less luxurious second mud hut. I learned that the traditional floor in there was made from a mixture of ant hills and dried cow dung. I've never slept so well in my life, and I had some really great dreams to boot.
The next day I got into a 'taxi' - a minivan with 12 seats and 24 passengers, blaring African music - at 6am with Kabelo and his family and we made the 2 hour trek down what I suppose could loosely be called a 'road' (we had to fjord several small rivers) into town (Butha-Buthe). My host then kindly directed me to another bus that he assured me would take me to Sani Pass, through which I could get back into S. Africa and the Southern Drakensberg. Well 2 o'clock rolled around and my journey ended in a town called 'Mokhotlong', a place the lonely planet guide describes as a 'Wild West' town. Trying to get another taxi to Sani was futile so I hiked to the only hotel in town to regroup. I learned later that we had traveled about 150 km in 7 hours. Because it was hot I threw on some shorts and went out to do a bit of grocery shopping.
The shorts was a really bad idea. The staring was blatant and constant and I'm pretty sure I got called a homo a few times in the local language. I neglected to note on my way to the hotel that all of the men were wearing either pants or long blankets. I want to clarify, though, that the people were really nice and there was no malice in their actions - they were genuinely gobsmacked to see a white guy running around town. The group of about 20 school kids that started to follow me were fascinated with my appearance and mentioned that my 'English is so strange'. I locked myself in my hotel room until morning.
The next day I jumped in another taxi and made it all the way to the border. Somehow, I had neglected to get my passport stamped coming into Lesotho. I'm not sure if the border guard was joking when he threatened to arrest me for being in the country illegally, or if he was fishing for a bribe, but a few smiles and jokes later and I was across the border and coming down the Sani Pass, which you can see from the pictures is possibly one of the worst 3 roads in the entire universe. I think we averaged 0.5 km/hr, but wow what a view. Again, although I paid for the taxi to take me to a town in S. Africa called Underberg, the driver let everybody out at a crossroads near some ruins. Another taxi was on it's way in 30 minutes (2 hours, Africa time I'm sure), so I decided to walk to my hostel which was only 4 km down the road. Walking alone in the middle of nowhere on a beautiful day with some great tunes blasting on the ipod was a really uplifting experience. Arriving safely, I chilled by the pool (which I'm beginning to think is a mandatory fixture at hostels in this country). My horse riding for the next day was cancelled due to rain so I just hitched a ride with some dutch girls to Pietermaritzburg and then grabbed a 7 hour greyhound bus to Pretoria last night. I'm back at the paradise hostel and meeting Lesley tomorrow which I'm really pumped for. And now, as my milk is getting warm, I have to get back poolside. Talk to you all soon. Mike
It's been an inspiring last few days traveling out of Pretoria and into the Drakensberg Mountains and through Lesotho (pronounced Le-soo-too), the country surrounded by S. Africa (or as some say, on top of S. Africa, as the lowest point is 1,100m above sea level). The day I arrived in the Northern 'Drak' I opted not to waste any more time by the pool and did a quick hike with a Finnish lady to the beautiful Tiger Falls. After 5 minutes on the trail we had ran into a family of babboons which was a lot of fun.
The next day I went out on an all-day, fairly strenuous guided hike to one of the highest points in the Drak (~3100m), the Amphitheatre. It's called that because this 8-km long, 1000m high sheer cliff face forms a crescent that looks like, you guessed it, an amphitheatre. The weather that day was a mixed blessing; because the mountain was shrouded in fog, we missed the best vistas, but it did make for a really eerie experience, literally walking in the clouds. The hills in some areas were full of babboons. At one point we rounded a corner and either scared these guys or they were fighting amongst themselves - the ones we could see began to start screeching, which set off a chain reaction across the mountain with what I would estimate as 100's of babboons all having a bird. Because of the terrain, the echoes were absolutely haunting. What an amazing feeling that unfortunately can't be explained with words. Toward the end of the trail we had to climb down 2 25 metre chain ladders over fatal drops. Extremely exhilarating. I'll let my pictures do the rest of the talking on this.
Wanting to spend at least a few days in Lesotho just to say I was there, I joined another guided tour into the country the next day and had them drop me off there. Our first stop in this village of roughly 1,000 people was the elementary school. In this remote area of the country, visitors are not very common, so the kids absolutely loved us and were mesmerized by our digital cameras. They were so damn cute, begging to have their picture taken, and posing for the cam. Later in the day we made a quick hike to see some San Bushmen cave paintings that were thousands of years old. Unfortunately between being worn out and vandalized, my camera couldn't pick them up well. Another notable highlight was our stop for some pineapple beer, which they make out of sorghum. Wouldn't be half bad if it wasn't flat (they don't exactly have bottling facilities here, so the 14 tourists shared one giant cup.)
Next came a moment that will be burned into my mind forever - waving goodbye to the other tourists as I came to fully grasp the gravity of my situation. I'm in Lesotho, in a mountain farming village that is disconnected from the world, that has no electricity or plumbing, and I'm not even sure where I am. Shit...
But Damn what a great experience!!! My host Kabelo, the grade 7 teacher, took me for a little walk around the village to buy dinner (chicken), then we got into his mud hut with a thatched roof to cook. I got the feeling that he was one of the more wealthy individuals in the village as he actually had a gas stove, a bed, a linoleum floor and certain other trappings of 'civilization'. I have to say I had no freaking clue what I was doing when it came to making dinner as they do things slightly different 'round those parts. He had me break up the chicken with my hands - no problem. Now where do i wash my hands? Oh right, we just share the dirty rag. I walked around for the next 30 minutes feeling like an idiot for worrying about salmonella, but eventually got over it and, like the romans, ate with my dirty hands. We also cooked half a cabbage, which his wife pulled out of the garden (he had me water the cabbage patch after dinner... jealous?), and something called 'pabh', which is a very bland boiled maize meal that is eaten for all 3 meals, every day.
Washing the dishes was awesome. I used a basin, a bit of boiled water, and the same dirty chicken rag. And I'm still alive!!! After dinner I was pretty tired. Kabelo wanted to give me his nice hut with the double bed while he, his wife and his 9 month old baby slept in the spare hut on mats. I absolutely refused to displace his entire family and took the less luxurious second mud hut. I learned that the traditional floor in there was made from a mixture of ant hills and dried cow dung. I've never slept so well in my life, and I had some really great dreams to boot.
The next day I got into a 'taxi' - a minivan with 12 seats and 24 passengers, blaring African music - at 6am with Kabelo and his family and we made the 2 hour trek down what I suppose could loosely be called a 'road' (we had to fjord several small rivers) into town (Butha-Buthe). My host then kindly directed me to another bus that he assured me would take me to Sani Pass, through which I could get back into S. Africa and the Southern Drakensberg. Well 2 o'clock rolled around and my journey ended in a town called 'Mokhotlong', a place the lonely planet guide describes as a 'Wild West' town. Trying to get another taxi to Sani was futile so I hiked to the only hotel in town to regroup. I learned later that we had traveled about 150 km in 7 hours. Because it was hot I threw on some shorts and went out to do a bit of grocery shopping.
The shorts was a really bad idea. The staring was blatant and constant and I'm pretty sure I got called a homo a few times in the local language. I neglected to note on my way to the hotel that all of the men were wearing either pants or long blankets. I want to clarify, though, that the people were really nice and there was no malice in their actions - they were genuinely gobsmacked to see a white guy running around town. The group of about 20 school kids that started to follow me were fascinated with my appearance and mentioned that my 'English is so strange'. I locked myself in my hotel room until morning.
The next day I jumped in another taxi and made it all the way to the border. Somehow, I had neglected to get my passport stamped coming into Lesotho. I'm not sure if the border guard was joking when he threatened to arrest me for being in the country illegally, or if he was fishing for a bribe, but a few smiles and jokes later and I was across the border and coming down the Sani Pass, which you can see from the pictures is possibly one of the worst 3 roads in the entire universe. I think we averaged 0.5 km/hr, but wow what a view. Again, although I paid for the taxi to take me to a town in S. Africa called Underberg, the driver let everybody out at a crossroads near some ruins. Another taxi was on it's way in 30 minutes (2 hours, Africa time I'm sure), so I decided to walk to my hostel which was only 4 km down the road. Walking alone in the middle of nowhere on a beautiful day with some great tunes blasting on the ipod was a really uplifting experience. Arriving safely, I chilled by the pool (which I'm beginning to think is a mandatory fixture at hostels in this country). My horse riding for the next day was cancelled due to rain so I just hitched a ride with some dutch girls to Pietermaritzburg and then grabbed a 7 hour greyhound bus to Pretoria last night. I'm back at the paradise hostel and meeting Lesley tomorrow which I'm really pumped for. And now, as my milk is getting warm, I have to get back poolside. Talk to you all soon. Mike
Friday, February 1, 2008
I'm living in a South African paradise
On January 29th I got on a plane in Casablanca and 24 hours later I arrived at Johannesburg International airport, via Madrid and Zurich. Not the nicest connections, but the price was right. Not wanting to deal with the crime in the 'world's most dangerous city' after that kind of flight, I opted to stay in Pretoria over Jo'burg, or Jozi. If my abysmal hostel in Casablanca had an sister estalishment that was its diametrical opposite, my hostel in Pretoria is it. I'm not even sure you can call it a hostel - it's surrounded by tropical vegetation, has a pool, a bar, laundry, hot water any time of the day, a great, friendly staff and is walking distance to a shopping centre and the major bar area. The place is paradise!
Only after 3 days I am completely in love with the country. Mind you I am staying in a rich suburb, but I did spend yesterday in Soweto, the country's most notorious township during the apartheid era, the sight of numerous violent and deadly clashes with police in the 70's. I also hit the apartheid museum to learn a bit about the country's history, which is extremely tragic and fascinating.
For me, observing modern South African society has been incredibly interesting. From my calculations it's about 85% black and 15% white. Everyone lives in harmony and the people are extremely friendly. If you hold a stereotype about black Africans being gregarious, always smiling, dancing and having fun, it would be accurate. Their love of life is contagious! I was unsure of what to expect in Soweto. I had heard horror stories about these townships being some of the most dangerous places in the world. Hell, compared to some places I've been in Detroit, the places here looked like a country club. I was almost ashamed to have been so ignorant. Again, I've only been here for 3 days, but I think the world needs to get a freakin grip on reality and change its preconceptions about Africa.
Tomorrow I venture out of my ivory suburb into the Drakensberg (Dragon's) Mountains for a few days before I cross the Sani Pass into the otherworldly, cloud shrouded, (enchanted, perhaps?) mountain kingdom of Lesotho (from what I'm told my rhetoric is not unjustified), before I trek back to Jo'burg to collect Lesley so she can join in the fun for 3 weeks. No pictures posted this round as I don't have anything too spectacular besides a really cool subway train in the Zurich airport that looks like a scene from Half-Life (/computer nerdity).
Only after 3 days I am completely in love with the country. Mind you I am staying in a rich suburb, but I did spend yesterday in Soweto, the country's most notorious township during the apartheid era, the sight of numerous violent and deadly clashes with police in the 70's. I also hit the apartheid museum to learn a bit about the country's history, which is extremely tragic and fascinating.
For me, observing modern South African society has been incredibly interesting. From my calculations it's about 85% black and 15% white. Everyone lives in harmony and the people are extremely friendly. If you hold a stereotype about black Africans being gregarious, always smiling, dancing and having fun, it would be accurate. Their love of life is contagious! I was unsure of what to expect in Soweto. I had heard horror stories about these townships being some of the most dangerous places in the world. Hell, compared to some places I've been in Detroit, the places here looked like a country club. I was almost ashamed to have been so ignorant. Again, I've only been here for 3 days, but I think the world needs to get a freakin grip on reality and change its preconceptions about Africa.
Tomorrow I venture out of my ivory suburb into the Drakensberg (Dragon's) Mountains for a few days before I cross the Sani Pass into the otherworldly, cloud shrouded, (enchanted, perhaps?) mountain kingdom of Lesotho (from what I'm told my rhetoric is not unjustified), before I trek back to Jo'burg to collect Lesley so she can join in the fun for 3 weeks. No pictures posted this round as I don't have anything too spectacular besides a really cool subway train in the Zurich airport that looks like a scene from Half-Life (/computer nerdity).
Moroccan afterthoughts
Beautiful Morocco is now behind me. Looking back, I think the country can best be described as one in transition between past and future.
Although the country is technically secular, and influenced a great deal by its European neighbours, Islam is still very much the cornerstone of the population's collective psyche. Drinking is legal, but still quasi-taboo; as Namir explained to us (and to paraphrase) 'drinking in public is the same as going to the toilet in public'. And yet on my second night in Marrakesh, we managed to find and patronize several 'Western' night clubs where the women dressed provocatively and booze consumption was excessive. The call to prayer was repeated like clockwork 5 times daily, and yet while this was happening I never witnessed a single person drop what they were doing to head to a Mosque.
The country's politics was particularly interesting for me. Monarchys are not really covered in a 4 year political science degree, so it was fascinating to see one functioning up close, especially one that has managed to survive in a fairly developed country! Litereally every Moroccan I asked had nothing but praise for the King. And it is not hard to see why - the man really seems to have the country's best interests at heart. Morocco is developing at a rapid pace. In my two weeks I saw numerous road projects in the works, a major hydroelectric dam/artificial lake, power lines everywhere and upgrades to bus and train stations. And not only in urban centres, but remote rural areas as well. The fact that internet cafes exist in Saharan border towns says a lot.
Unfortunately I do have some negative things to report. The cities are filthy, crowded, polluted (I don't believe there are any vehicle emission standards), congested and stressful. After Marrakesh I spent some time in Casablanca. I won't waste my breath on this except to say that it is a shithole - don't go. Although I really did grow to like Marrakesh a lot after spending an extra day exploring it. Morocco has massive tourist potential beyond what is already established; the challenge will be to avoid becoming a disneyland destination, and to maintain its arabic, medieval mystique (that, and to avoid destroying its pristine natural beauty of the countryside.) Finally, I can't leave this without complaining about the hustlers. Persistent would be the precursor to a word that does not yet exist, but which would describe how irritating those bastards can be. They give the country a really bad name, and although the police have apparently cracked down on the 'faux guides' and drug peddlers, there is a long way to go in my humble opinion.
The best part of Morocco for me was the time exploring the mountains and the Sahara. I will never forget the feel of that red sand in my shoes. Unlike the coarse stuff most of us hate to have in our sandals after a day at the beach, this fine powder felt like slipping your foot into a warm blanket. Amazing. For those of you that I know will ask, the women were actually quite beautiful and exotic. That's to say, at least the ones that were not covered up. My whole time there I saw at least 15 that could have been supermodels... I think it's their big, dark eyes.
Seeing sheep with their shepherds everywhere was an interesting sight. Seeing traditional nomads camped out in a field was amazing. Seeing a woman wandering in the mountains without a settlement visible for miles was almost disturbing. I forgot to mention, but at our second night in the mountains we stayed at a hotel that Namir described as '2 star'. The place had a pool, pristine rooms, air conditioning (not that we needed it) and great food. The defining moment of that experience was when this frail old man sitting in a corner of the hotel restaurant pulled out an instrument that looked like a sitar played like a violin, and played a few tunes in a style of music I've never heard.
Finally, I would like to give a shout out to Gustavo for coining a new term to describe Moroccan cuisine: it's all "Hand Made" (as in, they stick their fingers all over everything).
What a great experience!!!
Although the country is technically secular, and influenced a great deal by its European neighbours, Islam is still very much the cornerstone of the population's collective psyche. Drinking is legal, but still quasi-taboo; as Namir explained to us (and to paraphrase) 'drinking in public is the same as going to the toilet in public'. And yet on my second night in Marrakesh, we managed to find and patronize several 'Western' night clubs where the women dressed provocatively and booze consumption was excessive. The call to prayer was repeated like clockwork 5 times daily, and yet while this was happening I never witnessed a single person drop what they were doing to head to a Mosque.
The country's politics was particularly interesting for me. Monarchys are not really covered in a 4 year political science degree, so it was fascinating to see one functioning up close, especially one that has managed to survive in a fairly developed country! Litereally every Moroccan I asked had nothing but praise for the King. And it is not hard to see why - the man really seems to have the country's best interests at heart. Morocco is developing at a rapid pace. In my two weeks I saw numerous road projects in the works, a major hydroelectric dam/artificial lake, power lines everywhere and upgrades to bus and train stations. And not only in urban centres, but remote rural areas as well. The fact that internet cafes exist in Saharan border towns says a lot.
Unfortunately I do have some negative things to report. The cities are filthy, crowded, polluted (I don't believe there are any vehicle emission standards), congested and stressful. After Marrakesh I spent some time in Casablanca. I won't waste my breath on this except to say that it is a shithole - don't go. Although I really did grow to like Marrakesh a lot after spending an extra day exploring it. Morocco has massive tourist potential beyond what is already established; the challenge will be to avoid becoming a disneyland destination, and to maintain its arabic, medieval mystique (that, and to avoid destroying its pristine natural beauty of the countryside.) Finally, I can't leave this without complaining about the hustlers. Persistent would be the precursor to a word that does not yet exist, but which would describe how irritating those bastards can be. They give the country a really bad name, and although the police have apparently cracked down on the 'faux guides' and drug peddlers, there is a long way to go in my humble opinion.
The best part of Morocco for me was the time exploring the mountains and the Sahara. I will never forget the feel of that red sand in my shoes. Unlike the coarse stuff most of us hate to have in our sandals after a day at the beach, this fine powder felt like slipping your foot into a warm blanket. Amazing. For those of you that I know will ask, the women were actually quite beautiful and exotic. That's to say, at least the ones that were not covered up. My whole time there I saw at least 15 that could have been supermodels... I think it's their big, dark eyes.
Seeing sheep with their shepherds everywhere was an interesting sight. Seeing traditional nomads camped out in a field was amazing. Seeing a woman wandering in the mountains without a settlement visible for miles was almost disturbing. I forgot to mention, but at our second night in the mountains we stayed at a hotel that Namir described as '2 star'. The place had a pool, pristine rooms, air conditioning (not that we needed it) and great food. The defining moment of that experience was when this frail old man sitting in a corner of the hotel restaurant pulled out an instrument that looked like a sitar played like a violin, and played a few tunes in a style of music I've never heard.
Finally, I would like to give a shout out to Gustavo for coining a new term to describe Moroccan cuisine: it's all "Hand Made" (as in, they stick their fingers all over everything).
What a great experience!!!
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