Two posts ago I mentioned that I was working on a special 'project'. Well there was a good reason that I waited to go into detail - I didn't want to scare anybody before I got safely out of the country (I'm in Livingstone, Zambia).
I've had an adventure more exciting than anything in my wildest dreams. Over the last few days I ceased to be a tourist and became a freelance journalist. I was incredibly lucky that in the first 20 minutes of getting to my hostel, I ran into several senior organizers for the MDC, the leading political party opposing the autocrat Mugabe. I started interviewing right away. By the end of the day, I was offered an interview with the Vice President of the MDC who happened to be in town. I jumped on that immediately, or rather, jumped into the back of a pickup truck, and was told to lay down for the ride to her hotel so I wouldn't be spotted by police. Had I been outed as a journalist, I would have been arrested, as there is zero freedom of the press here. I conducted a quick interview, without a notebook, because I was told undercover police were watching us. Thankfully I have cultivated the stupid tourist look well after 3 months on the road.
In the next few days I learned about what kind of shit is happening here - all police and army leaves have been canceled in preparation for violence - they are in riot gear on every second street corner in major cities. On the day I decided to leave, the police were chasing street children, and apparently they often beat children as young as 10. The shelves are bare; people are starving. Opposition candidates are being bribed, hassled or arrested. I got a really good interview with a prospective MP an hour after being released from jail. Most of those I talked to assure me that Mugabe will steal this election again and that there will be violence when that happens.
Things are in shambles in Zimbabwe but I felt that it was worth putting myself at risk so that the world can see what is happening there. My story will likely be published in Saturday's National Post, so keep an eye out for it. An absolutely phenomenal experience!!!
Friday, March 28, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
Victoria Falls
Note: 3 new photo albums up
After my post yesterday I braved the throng of peddlers hawking their wood carvings and went down to see the Victoria Falls. I'm hesitant to even attempt to write something about it because it's so beautiful that words are inadequate. Just to give you a sense of the Falls' awesome power, I can hear them from my hostel at night, which is a 20 min walk away. Next to the Falls, the noise of this much water crashing down was humbling. Niagara Falls, in my opinion, does not compare. The water in the Zambezi River is currently flowing in a raging torrent on account of the unusually massive amount of rain this region of the world has had lately. Vic Falls drops into a mile-long canyon that is actually several different falls: Devil's Cataract, Main Falls, Rainbow Falls and Eastern Cataract. It took me about an hour to walk from one end to the other, with time to snap photos.
At my first glimpse, I got tears in my eyes. I've never seen anything so beautiful in my life. Everyone should see this first hand before they die.
The Falls throw up a ridiculous amount of mist, which has the effect of creating incredibly clear rainbows everywhere, and even a double rainbow as you can see from one of my pics. It also meant that as I walked farther East, I got more and more wet. By the time I got to the Eastern Cataract, I was standing in a virtual torrential downpour. At one point I thought I might actually be in the middle of a monsoon rain, because I couldn't believe the Falls were throwing down this much spray. But looking up, the skies were clear blue. Thankful that I brought my raincoat.
I didn't stay very long at the Falls, the reason being that I wanted to leave there with the sense of awe that struck me originally. I didn't want to become used to this much beauty. Have a look at my pictures.
After my post yesterday I braved the throng of peddlers hawking their wood carvings and went down to see the Victoria Falls. I'm hesitant to even attempt to write something about it because it's so beautiful that words are inadequate. Just to give you a sense of the Falls' awesome power, I can hear them from my hostel at night, which is a 20 min walk away. Next to the Falls, the noise of this much water crashing down was humbling. Niagara Falls, in my opinion, does not compare. The water in the Zambezi River is currently flowing in a raging torrent on account of the unusually massive amount of rain this region of the world has had lately. Vic Falls drops into a mile-long canyon that is actually several different falls: Devil's Cataract, Main Falls, Rainbow Falls and Eastern Cataract. It took me about an hour to walk from one end to the other, with time to snap photos.
At my first glimpse, I got tears in my eyes. I've never seen anything so beautiful in my life. Everyone should see this first hand before they die.
The Falls throw up a ridiculous amount of mist, which has the effect of creating incredibly clear rainbows everywhere, and even a double rainbow as you can see from one of my pics. It also meant that as I walked farther East, I got more and more wet. By the time I got to the Eastern Cataract, I was standing in a virtual torrential downpour. At one point I thought I might actually be in the middle of a monsoon rain, because I couldn't believe the Falls were throwing down this much spray. But looking up, the skies were clear blue. Thankful that I brought my raincoat.
I didn't stay very long at the Falls, the reason being that I wanted to leave there with the sense of awe that struck me originally. I didn't want to become used to this much beauty. Have a look at my pictures.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Zimbabwe... Something is going to happen
Wow, what an exciting time to be in Zimbabwe. I just so happen to have arrived a week before their presidential election. In most countries - Canada for example - elections are boring affairs unless you're a political junky like me. But here it's a matter of whether dictator Robert Mugabe allows free and fair elections (which he would undoubtedly lose), or whether he appoints himself another term and faces the possibility of violence, or even a coup. I've got a bigger post on this coming up, but for now let's just say I'm having the time of my life. Just so everyone is not worrying, the place I'm staying is a tourist haven and there's no chance of violence here.
I crossed the border into Zimbabwe yesterday, and immediately noticed a shift in the mood. Whereas border officials in other African countries so far were laid back, friendly, almost lacadaisical, the guys here were clearly on ego trips and determined to make me understand that their balls are bigger than mine. But again, my belief that you can change anyone's mood with a smile and a few jokes was vindicated and I was on my way with no problem (except maybe for the $65 visa cost... ouch). Again, I was taking 'public transport', and as soon as I crossed the gate to where the minibuses were waiting, I think all the guys were thinking, "Ahh, here comes another stupid wet-behind-the-ears tourist." The first guy wanted $40 US to take me the 70 km to Victoria Falls. I laughed in his face and told him I could buy a car here for that. Stupid tourist delusion shattered.
I found a different minibus and the guy asked for $10. Got him down to $6. Minibus taxis only leave when they're full, so as we were waiting the original guy started to get pissed off that he was first in line and that we should all move over to his cab (he was acting like a madman, actually). After he moved his bus to block our bus, to my surprise people actually rewarded this bad behaviour and moved to his taxi. I reluctantly followed. As soon as i got in, the passengers asked about the price, which he said was $4.50. Notice a discrepancy here? He didn't seem to care that he just admitted he was ripping me off. The passengers refused to pay this much and wanted to pay $3. After some talk in Ndebele (the local language) they calmed down, which I'm guessing meant they agreed on $3 but he didn' t want me to know.
When I got out of the cab I paid him the $6, telling him "I know you're ripping me off, but we agreed on $6 and I'm going to keep my word." My honestly was met with silence and a look of disdain. Asshole (Hmm, maybe I am a stupid tourist?)
Haven't seen much of town on account of my other project, to be explained later, but I have learned a few things. The country is an economic disaster. I changed $100 US yesterday and got 3 one-inch stacks of 10 million Zim Dollar bills. And they just dropped 3 zeros from the currency! Talk about inflation. As soon as I leave the hostel, I'm swarmed by peddlers trying to sell wood carvings. When I decline they ask for my sunglasses, t-shirts and such. Clearly this is out of desperation as people can no longer afford to live (Time for a goverment change, perhaps?)
Anyway the hostel I'm staying at is really nice, despite the power being out most of yesterday, and I've met a few cool people. Looking forward to meeting up with the Namibia tour people yet again tonight on their last night of the tour, and to seeing Vic Falls after this! Off to it...
ps. Still no chance to get pictures up - the computers are getting more and more dated as I travel East. But hopefully tomorrow.
I crossed the border into Zimbabwe yesterday, and immediately noticed a shift in the mood. Whereas border officials in other African countries so far were laid back, friendly, almost lacadaisical, the guys here were clearly on ego trips and determined to make me understand that their balls are bigger than mine. But again, my belief that you can change anyone's mood with a smile and a few jokes was vindicated and I was on my way with no problem (except maybe for the $65 visa cost... ouch). Again, I was taking 'public transport', and as soon as I crossed the gate to where the minibuses were waiting, I think all the guys were thinking, "Ahh, here comes another stupid wet-behind-the-ears tourist." The first guy wanted $40 US to take me the 70 km to Victoria Falls. I laughed in his face and told him I could buy a car here for that. Stupid tourist delusion shattered.
I found a different minibus and the guy asked for $10. Got him down to $6. Minibus taxis only leave when they're full, so as we were waiting the original guy started to get pissed off that he was first in line and that we should all move over to his cab (he was acting like a madman, actually). After he moved his bus to block our bus, to my surprise people actually rewarded this bad behaviour and moved to his taxi. I reluctantly followed. As soon as i got in, the passengers asked about the price, which he said was $4.50. Notice a discrepancy here? He didn't seem to care that he just admitted he was ripping me off. The passengers refused to pay this much and wanted to pay $3. After some talk in Ndebele (the local language) they calmed down, which I'm guessing meant they agreed on $3 but he didn' t want me to know.
When I got out of the cab I paid him the $6, telling him "I know you're ripping me off, but we agreed on $6 and I'm going to keep my word." My honestly was met with silence and a look of disdain. Asshole (Hmm, maybe I am a stupid tourist?)
Haven't seen much of town on account of my other project, to be explained later, but I have learned a few things. The country is an economic disaster. I changed $100 US yesterday and got 3 one-inch stacks of 10 million Zim Dollar bills. And they just dropped 3 zeros from the currency! Talk about inflation. As soon as I leave the hostel, I'm swarmed by peddlers trying to sell wood carvings. When I decline they ask for my sunglasses, t-shirts and such. Clearly this is out of desperation as people can no longer afford to live (Time for a goverment change, perhaps?)
Anyway the hostel I'm staying at is really nice, despite the power being out most of yesterday, and I've met a few cool people. Looking forward to meeting up with the Namibia tour people yet again tonight on their last night of the tour, and to seeing Vic Falls after this! Off to it...
ps. Still no chance to get pictures up - the computers are getting more and more dated as I travel East. But hopefully tomorrow.
Friday, March 21, 2008
"You Hitchhiked from Where?!"
That seems to be a fairly common response I get when I tell people how I've been traveling for the last week.
After my last post I met up with the Namibian tour people for dinner at Joe's Beer House, a bit of a splurge after a few days of belt-tightening. Because I didn't book far enough in advance, the hostel I had been staying at was full for the night. Being homeless in a foreign land is a scary prospect, so thank God for my friend Erling and his generosity or I would have been sleeping in a ditch. I packed up my shit and left the hostel, flagging down a cab. Cabs work a little differently in Namibia - they're all shared. The driver had no idea where the restaurant was, so it was a funny sight to watch the other 3 passengers grab for my travel guide map in hopes of helping me out.
I felt kind of lost in the universe carrying my gigantic pack into the restaurant, but you do what you have to when you're backpacking. We had a pretty great night, and I got to add a funky meat to my growing checklist - Zebra. Tastes like beef! Mmmm.... Leaving the restaurant, the tour people decided they wanted a real Namibian experience and called a few taxis to go to a local club. However, Erling arrived in his pickup truck to get me before the cabs, so my drunk white tourist friends packed their 20 selves into the back, instigated by some annoying girl I didn't know, and Erling dropped them off. I was kind of embarrassed that he had to do this; I knew in his generosity he couldn't say no. I slept like a baby in his spare bedroom.
The next morning, up at 6 and Erling dropped me at the minibus stop where I met a girl from Botswana - Gidi - who, like me, was going to Maun. All minibuses go in short legs, so it was going to be a long day of traveling. The first bus (packed to the brim) was going as far as Gobabis, which is about 100 km from the Botswana border. Fairly immediately it became apparent that we 2 were the only ones in town interested in continuing our travels East. We waited for at least 2 hours before a S. African truck driver in a big rig pulled over to let us in. Nice guy, but for some reason was convinced that all women smelled bad. 10 minutes into the trip we were pulled over by the police. I thought, 'oh shit, what now', but it turned out that one of the guys just wanted a lift to the border as well. How can you say no to the cops?
Pretty soon we were in the Kalahari Desert (which apparently isn't really a desert). Truck driver guy took us all the way to the crossroads where he was going south and we north. So sitting at the side of the road, I had a bit of time (an hour?) to reflect upon how darn beautiful Botswana is. I couldn't believe how flat it is. But unlike a prairie, it's covered by low bushes and trees and rests under a beautiful sky. The Botswana government subsidizes some transportation between various points. So as luck would have it, one of these ramshackle, covered-pickup-truck deathtraps stopped for us to take us the 100km to Ghanzi. I am still convinced that if I didn't make it a point to press my back against the side of the cargo bay it would have been torn apart in the wind.
About the time we arrived, it was getting dark. And although Gidi, my guardian angel slash hitchhiking mentor wanted to continue on to Maun, I knew after 20 minutes and no cars that it wasn't going to happen today. So we walked a few kilometers back to town centre and, by what I think is a miracle, found a guesthouse in a very questionable area. It wasn't exactly cheap, so decided to share a room with 2 single beds. At this point you may be questioning the wisdom of sharing a room with a strange female that I don't know. Believe me, the same thought crossed my mind - "this is really fucked up..." But after hitchhiking with someone for 12 hours you start to trust them. And she didn't rob me in the middle of the night.
So we got up the next morning and parked ourselves at the hitchhiking spot. Thankfully it only took 3 hours for someone to stop. And halfway thru the trip to Maun it started to rain. While it may not have been a great idea, maneuvering half standing up in the back of a crowded pickup traveling about 120 kph to extricate a raincoat out of your bag is a hell of a lot of fun. The beer cans flying out the driver side window was surreal (everyone in Botswana - and probably Africa for that matter - drinks and drives). "I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M DOING THIS!" kept running through my head. By another strange coincidence, I ran into some of the Namibia tour people as soon as I got dropped off.
With a final minibus taxi I made the 10km to the lodge, a beautiful spot on the Okavango river that made me think this is what the Louisiana Bayou must look like. Inexplicably it took me literally 2 hours to get a BBQ fire going. But I had cold beers in my hand and good tunes on the stereo so nothing in the world mattered at that point. When 'Wastin' Away in Margaritaville' came on, I thought "wow, I can relate - that's how I feel like right now!" What I mean by that is that if you wanted to, you could get lost in a drunken haze for months and months on this continent. Everything is so laid back, the scenery beautiful, the people chilled out, unhurried, friendly and convivial. 5 American students were hanging out at the bar, so i attached myself to these guys and we talked politics all night. They turned out to be really great guys. Regrettably, one was a staunch Bush supported so wow I had a field day toying with this guy. But it was all in a manner of mutual respect and I think I gained a new appreciation - well maybe tolerance is a better word - for Americans. I was flattered that one guy told me I was 'really good at debating' and that I'm 'more mature than my years' and an 'old soul'. Thanks, guys, for breaking down some of the prejudices I didn't even realize I had.
The next morning I braved a vicious hangover, the result of a shot-filled night, instigated by the bartender (I think she actually beat us), and got onto a speedboat at 830. A gorgeous 45 minute trip later, I was transferred to a 'Mokoro', a type of dugout canoe that the locals use to get around the Delta, and is pushed with a pole. While I knew in theory what a delta was - an area where a river branches out into thousands of 'fingers', I was shocked by what it was in practice. The Okavanga Delta is the largest in the world - about 15,000 square km, and at least in the area I was, pretty much all water. But it doesn't look like water. It looks like you're sitting on a gigantic grass plain, which is actually reeds growing in about 1-5 feet of water full of plant life. The experience of quietly rolling across this watery landscape was a little haunting. An environment I've never even imagined in my life. While there are some channels where the reeds and lilys are absent (the main transportation conduits, we got to slide across quite a large area that was thick. Unfortunately this meant being hit in the face with unnemurable spiderwebs and really big spiders until I figured out you can hold a reed in front of your face to avoid most of them.
We stopped for lunch and a quick bush walk at an island. As we approached, I saw there were other tourists hanging around among the tents. As soon as I stepped onto shore, I saw John. what the hell is John doing here? Then JP. Then Frank.
By some cosmic mixup, I had run into the Namibia tour people, AGAIN, this time at a bush camp in the middle of the Okavango Delta. What. the. Hell. I am now certain that there is such a thing as a divine sense of humour. I got some interesting stares when I recounted my travel stories. I'm not sure if they were out of awe, confusion or whether my friends thought I was mentally insane for doing what I did. So we had a few laughs before we again parted ways, I'm sure to meet again in Victoria Falls.
Back at the lodge I had to plan the next stage of my trip. Looking at the map of the continent in my lonely planet, I started to think, "what the hell do I do now?" It finally dawned on me, perhaps for the first time on this trip, that I don't really believe I'm actually here. "What am I doing? Am I crazy? How have I not had a nervous breakdown by now?" And yet I'm still full of energy. This is living. Being outside of my comfort zone just means that I can appreciate life so much more.
Another early morning the next day, I made my way to town and found a bus that was leaving for Gweta about 250 km east of Maun. I had a plan to stay there for the night so I could take a tour of the Makgadikgadi salt pans. I got off the bus in 'Downtown Gweta' (a dusty road, a few goats. Many people with missing teeth.) The first thing I asked I immediately regretted: "Is there an ATM here?" Oh how we laughed... Anyway, I crossed the road to a lodge and had my plans altered: the pans were completely submerged and unnavigable. Another victim of climate change? The 2 people behind the counter looked at me with the same awestruck-puzzled expression when I told them how I was traveling across the country.
It was only 11am at this point so I got a lift back to the main highway and broke out my thumb (actually your index finger in Africa) for the next round of 'hiking'. Had to wait for 2 hours, but eventually another coach bus (standing room only this time) came to take me the 100km to Nata. The entire way we were dodging various livestock from cows to goats to horses, which all seem to be attracted, magnetlike to the middle of the road. At one point this giant coach bus missed a mule by about a foot travelling at 80 kph. It's not that it was a last minute escape - the driver saw it well in advance - but apparently this is really common so why bother slowing down? The mule didn't flinch.
In Nata, I waited again for only about an hour before a guy with a minibus took me to my current location, Kasane, which is at the gate of Chobe National Park. Thankfully I made the journey with 3 other guys that were eager to help a tourist. The people here are the nicest I've met so far. Because these minibuses are always packed, it's never comfortable. And traveling 350km with no stops with someone virtually on top of you means that my ass has never been so sore in my life. I got out of the car at the first lodge that looked half decent. How's that for living day to day?
Through all of this, I have been surprisingly able to keep my cool and my wits about me. I didn't know I had this much strength. At the same time, yesterday was closest I've come to losing it. 12 hours of traveling will do that to you. The feeling was exacerbated by the really disappointing conversation I had with the lady at the lodge. She was entirely unhelpful in setting up a game drive for the next day. And then when I finally agreed to worry about it tomorrow, she had the audacity to suggest that my desire for a minimum standard of customer service was because "I think you are not well". In my earlier years, this might have made my blood boil. But these days I just chalk it up to being in a different world, and realizing that it really doesn't matter. And, she was probably right. I was mentally exhausted yesterday from pushing myself so hard.
So all is indeed well. I've opted for a boat cruise instead, and I'm off to Victoria Falls tomorrow. I will try to get some pictures up when I get there.
After my last post I met up with the Namibian tour people for dinner at Joe's Beer House, a bit of a splurge after a few days of belt-tightening. Because I didn't book far enough in advance, the hostel I had been staying at was full for the night. Being homeless in a foreign land is a scary prospect, so thank God for my friend Erling and his generosity or I would have been sleeping in a ditch. I packed up my shit and left the hostel, flagging down a cab. Cabs work a little differently in Namibia - they're all shared. The driver had no idea where the restaurant was, so it was a funny sight to watch the other 3 passengers grab for my travel guide map in hopes of helping me out.
I felt kind of lost in the universe carrying my gigantic pack into the restaurant, but you do what you have to when you're backpacking. We had a pretty great night, and I got to add a funky meat to my growing checklist - Zebra. Tastes like beef! Mmmm.... Leaving the restaurant, the tour people decided they wanted a real Namibian experience and called a few taxis to go to a local club. However, Erling arrived in his pickup truck to get me before the cabs, so my drunk white tourist friends packed their 20 selves into the back, instigated by some annoying girl I didn't know, and Erling dropped them off. I was kind of embarrassed that he had to do this; I knew in his generosity he couldn't say no. I slept like a baby in his spare bedroom.
The next morning, up at 6 and Erling dropped me at the minibus stop where I met a girl from Botswana - Gidi - who, like me, was going to Maun. All minibuses go in short legs, so it was going to be a long day of traveling. The first bus (packed to the brim) was going as far as Gobabis, which is about 100 km from the Botswana border. Fairly immediately it became apparent that we 2 were the only ones in town interested in continuing our travels East. We waited for at least 2 hours before a S. African truck driver in a big rig pulled over to let us in. Nice guy, but for some reason was convinced that all women smelled bad. 10 minutes into the trip we were pulled over by the police. I thought, 'oh shit, what now', but it turned out that one of the guys just wanted a lift to the border as well. How can you say no to the cops?
Pretty soon we were in the Kalahari Desert (which apparently isn't really a desert). Truck driver guy took us all the way to the crossroads where he was going south and we north. So sitting at the side of the road, I had a bit of time (an hour?) to reflect upon how darn beautiful Botswana is. I couldn't believe how flat it is. But unlike a prairie, it's covered by low bushes and trees and rests under a beautiful sky. The Botswana government subsidizes some transportation between various points. So as luck would have it, one of these ramshackle, covered-pickup-truck deathtraps stopped for us to take us the 100km to Ghanzi. I am still convinced that if I didn't make it a point to press my back against the side of the cargo bay it would have been torn apart in the wind.
About the time we arrived, it was getting dark. And although Gidi, my guardian angel slash hitchhiking mentor wanted to continue on to Maun, I knew after 20 minutes and no cars that it wasn't going to happen today. So we walked a few kilometers back to town centre and, by what I think is a miracle, found a guesthouse in a very questionable area. It wasn't exactly cheap, so decided to share a room with 2 single beds. At this point you may be questioning the wisdom of sharing a room with a strange female that I don't know. Believe me, the same thought crossed my mind - "this is really fucked up..." But after hitchhiking with someone for 12 hours you start to trust them. And she didn't rob me in the middle of the night.
So we got up the next morning and parked ourselves at the hitchhiking spot. Thankfully it only took 3 hours for someone to stop. And halfway thru the trip to Maun it started to rain. While it may not have been a great idea, maneuvering half standing up in the back of a crowded pickup traveling about 120 kph to extricate a raincoat out of your bag is a hell of a lot of fun. The beer cans flying out the driver side window was surreal (everyone in Botswana - and probably Africa for that matter - drinks and drives). "I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M DOING THIS!" kept running through my head. By another strange coincidence, I ran into some of the Namibia tour people as soon as I got dropped off.
With a final minibus taxi I made the 10km to the lodge, a beautiful spot on the Okavango river that made me think this is what the Louisiana Bayou must look like. Inexplicably it took me literally 2 hours to get a BBQ fire going. But I had cold beers in my hand and good tunes on the stereo so nothing in the world mattered at that point. When 'Wastin' Away in Margaritaville' came on, I thought "wow, I can relate - that's how I feel like right now!" What I mean by that is that if you wanted to, you could get lost in a drunken haze for months and months on this continent. Everything is so laid back, the scenery beautiful, the people chilled out, unhurried, friendly and convivial. 5 American students were hanging out at the bar, so i attached myself to these guys and we talked politics all night. They turned out to be really great guys. Regrettably, one was a staunch Bush supported so wow I had a field day toying with this guy. But it was all in a manner of mutual respect and I think I gained a new appreciation - well maybe tolerance is a better word - for Americans. I was flattered that one guy told me I was 'really good at debating' and that I'm 'more mature than my years' and an 'old soul'. Thanks, guys, for breaking down some of the prejudices I didn't even realize I had.
The next morning I braved a vicious hangover, the result of a shot-filled night, instigated by the bartender (I think she actually beat us), and got onto a speedboat at 830. A gorgeous 45 minute trip later, I was transferred to a 'Mokoro', a type of dugout canoe that the locals use to get around the Delta, and is pushed with a pole. While I knew in theory what a delta was - an area where a river branches out into thousands of 'fingers', I was shocked by what it was in practice. The Okavanga Delta is the largest in the world - about 15,000 square km, and at least in the area I was, pretty much all water. But it doesn't look like water. It looks like you're sitting on a gigantic grass plain, which is actually reeds growing in about 1-5 feet of water full of plant life. The experience of quietly rolling across this watery landscape was a little haunting. An environment I've never even imagined in my life. While there are some channels where the reeds and lilys are absent (the main transportation conduits, we got to slide across quite a large area that was thick. Unfortunately this meant being hit in the face with unnemurable spiderwebs and really big spiders until I figured out you can hold a reed in front of your face to avoid most of them.
We stopped for lunch and a quick bush walk at an island. As we approached, I saw there were other tourists hanging around among the tents. As soon as I stepped onto shore, I saw John. what the hell is John doing here? Then JP. Then Frank.
By some cosmic mixup, I had run into the Namibia tour people, AGAIN, this time at a bush camp in the middle of the Okavango Delta. What. the. Hell. I am now certain that there is such a thing as a divine sense of humour. I got some interesting stares when I recounted my travel stories. I'm not sure if they were out of awe, confusion or whether my friends thought I was mentally insane for doing what I did. So we had a few laughs before we again parted ways, I'm sure to meet again in Victoria Falls.
Back at the lodge I had to plan the next stage of my trip. Looking at the map of the continent in my lonely planet, I started to think, "what the hell do I do now?" It finally dawned on me, perhaps for the first time on this trip, that I don't really believe I'm actually here. "What am I doing? Am I crazy? How have I not had a nervous breakdown by now?" And yet I'm still full of energy. This is living. Being outside of my comfort zone just means that I can appreciate life so much more.
Another early morning the next day, I made my way to town and found a bus that was leaving for Gweta about 250 km east of Maun. I had a plan to stay there for the night so I could take a tour of the Makgadikgadi salt pans. I got off the bus in 'Downtown Gweta' (a dusty road, a few goats. Many people with missing teeth.) The first thing I asked I immediately regretted: "Is there an ATM here?" Oh how we laughed... Anyway, I crossed the road to a lodge and had my plans altered: the pans were completely submerged and unnavigable. Another victim of climate change? The 2 people behind the counter looked at me with the same awestruck-puzzled expression when I told them how I was traveling across the country.
It was only 11am at this point so I got a lift back to the main highway and broke out my thumb (actually your index finger in Africa) for the next round of 'hiking'. Had to wait for 2 hours, but eventually another coach bus (standing room only this time) came to take me the 100km to Nata. The entire way we were dodging various livestock from cows to goats to horses, which all seem to be attracted, magnetlike to the middle of the road. At one point this giant coach bus missed a mule by about a foot travelling at 80 kph. It's not that it was a last minute escape - the driver saw it well in advance - but apparently this is really common so why bother slowing down? The mule didn't flinch.
In Nata, I waited again for only about an hour before a guy with a minibus took me to my current location, Kasane, which is at the gate of Chobe National Park. Thankfully I made the journey with 3 other guys that were eager to help a tourist. The people here are the nicest I've met so far. Because these minibuses are always packed, it's never comfortable. And traveling 350km with no stops with someone virtually on top of you means that my ass has never been so sore in my life. I got out of the car at the first lodge that looked half decent. How's that for living day to day?
Through all of this, I have been surprisingly able to keep my cool and my wits about me. I didn't know I had this much strength. At the same time, yesterday was closest I've come to losing it. 12 hours of traveling will do that to you. The feeling was exacerbated by the really disappointing conversation I had with the lady at the lodge. She was entirely unhelpful in setting up a game drive for the next day. And then when I finally agreed to worry about it tomorrow, she had the audacity to suggest that my desire for a minimum standard of customer service was because "I think you are not well". In my earlier years, this might have made my blood boil. But these days I just chalk it up to being in a different world, and realizing that it really doesn't matter. And, she was probably right. I was mentally exhausted yesterday from pushing myself so hard.
So all is indeed well. I've opted for a boat cruise instead, and I'm off to Victoria Falls tomorrow. I will try to get some pictures up when I get there.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Windhoek is a drag, man
TWO days ago I took the 5 hour bus from Swakopmund to Windhoek, Namibia's Capital city. The country's largest city at 400,000, it may be the most boring place on Earth. I may just be saying that because it's Sunday and literally everything but this internet cafe is closed (and i'm the only one in here), but wow it's a sleepy town. It does have it's pluses - the weather is great. It's in the highlands at 1,600 feet, so the air is cool and probably the cleanest I've ever breathed. And it's safe. And i'm out of nice things to say...
The first day here, I arrived around 6 and ran into Batya from the tour at the bus stop, who was on her way back home. We said goodbye again, I got to the hostel, and called my friend Erling whom I met 5 or 6 weeks ago in Pretoria, S. Africa. He picked me up and we got a few bottles of Jack Daniels to celebrate his birthday (good timing for me, huh?) A few of his friends and cousins came over, all good people, and we BBQ'd until the wee hours of the morning. Although Erling is a local, he's not your average Namibian. At 31 he's working on his second PhD in tourism while teaching, and has been to more than 40 countries. Although not part of the elite (his family is middle class), he's clearly part of the country's intelligentsia, and is going to do some amazing things for Namibia. Regardless, it was nice to finally be in a non-white neighbourhood and hang out with a crowd in which I was the only white guy. Getting away from tourist bullshit is part of the reason I didn't continue on with the tour all the way to Victoria Falls, even though I was having a blast.
The next morning I woke up early in Erling's spare bedroom and after being dropped at the hostel to shower and change, I set out to do some sightseeing. I covered all the town's highlights before 3pm - Alte Fest, Windhoek's oldest surviving building, which houses the National Museum, the National Parliament buildings, which has a garden that far surpasses Queen's Park's, the Owela Museum (chock full of stuffed game animals and some other freaky, freaky shit... not to mention the museum was as dark as a funhouse...) and strolled up and down the main streets a bit. With nothing else left to do, I had a traditional Namibian Tex-Mex dinner and watched TV at the hostel all night. Da Vinci code... woo hoo!
I have to say, it's been one of the more bizarre hostel experiences I've had. There are very few young people staying there, and the ones that are look at me like I'm crazy when I talk to them. The diminuitive Japanese David Suzuki look-alike who was fixing his Dr. Seuss-esque bicycle in the hallway for 2 hours yesterday, and who slept in his clothes on top of his bed sheets from 7pm last night to 9am this morning is a pretty fair representation of the average guest. I was also intrigued by the 7 foot tall Sikh gentleman who snored all night... Wait, did I say snore? I'm not sure that's the correct terminology. It was something more akin to 'attempting to cause gravity to implode on itself through use of the nasal passage.' Seriously I've never heard a guy snore like this... I think he gave himself whiplash a few times. Then finally was the unspoken fued between myself and the 4 Spanish people that decided to have a lively debate behind me while I was finishing my movie. I didn't want to deal with them directly so I just kept putting up the TV volume (yes, literally up to full blast) until they got the message and left.
Tonight the people from the tour are passing through Windhoek, minus the few that left when I did, so I'll try to meet them for dinner. Tomorrow morning I'm going to attempt to catch a very early minibus taxi for the ~14 hour trip into Botswana, and hopefully make it all the way to Maun so I'm not stranded somewhere. May be out of contact for a week. Talk to you soon.
The first day here, I arrived around 6 and ran into Batya from the tour at the bus stop, who was on her way back home. We said goodbye again, I got to the hostel, and called my friend Erling whom I met 5 or 6 weeks ago in Pretoria, S. Africa. He picked me up and we got a few bottles of Jack Daniels to celebrate his birthday (good timing for me, huh?) A few of his friends and cousins came over, all good people, and we BBQ'd until the wee hours of the morning. Although Erling is a local, he's not your average Namibian. At 31 he's working on his second PhD in tourism while teaching, and has been to more than 40 countries. Although not part of the elite (his family is middle class), he's clearly part of the country's intelligentsia, and is going to do some amazing things for Namibia. Regardless, it was nice to finally be in a non-white neighbourhood and hang out with a crowd in which I was the only white guy. Getting away from tourist bullshit is part of the reason I didn't continue on with the tour all the way to Victoria Falls, even though I was having a blast.
The next morning I woke up early in Erling's spare bedroom and after being dropped at the hostel to shower and change, I set out to do some sightseeing. I covered all the town's highlights before 3pm - Alte Fest, Windhoek's oldest surviving building, which houses the National Museum, the National Parliament buildings, which has a garden that far surpasses Queen's Park's, the Owela Museum (chock full of stuffed game animals and some other freaky, freaky shit... not to mention the museum was as dark as a funhouse...) and strolled up and down the main streets a bit. With nothing else left to do, I had a traditional Namibian Tex-Mex dinner and watched TV at the hostel all night. Da Vinci code... woo hoo!
I have to say, it's been one of the more bizarre hostel experiences I've had. There are very few young people staying there, and the ones that are look at me like I'm crazy when I talk to them. The diminuitive Japanese David Suzuki look-alike who was fixing his Dr. Seuss-esque bicycle in the hallway for 2 hours yesterday, and who slept in his clothes on top of his bed sheets from 7pm last night to 9am this morning is a pretty fair representation of the average guest. I was also intrigued by the 7 foot tall Sikh gentleman who snored all night... Wait, did I say snore? I'm not sure that's the correct terminology. It was something more akin to 'attempting to cause gravity to implode on itself through use of the nasal passage.' Seriously I've never heard a guy snore like this... I think he gave himself whiplash a few times. Then finally was the unspoken fued between myself and the 4 Spanish people that decided to have a lively debate behind me while I was finishing my movie. I didn't want to deal with them directly so I just kept putting up the TV volume (yes, literally up to full blast) until they got the message and left.
Tonight the people from the tour are passing through Windhoek, minus the few that left when I did, so I'll try to meet them for dinner. Tomorrow morning I'm going to attempt to catch a very early minibus taxi for the ~14 hour trip into Botswana, and hopefully make it all the way to Maun so I'm not stranded somewhere. May be out of contact for a week. Talk to you soon.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Namibia is exhausting
So as my last post mentioned, I left Cape Town about 8 days ago and joined an overland camping tour with 17 other tourists, aged 21-64 (The tour company was Nomad which I definitely recommend). It was the most jam-packed week of my life, and I'm thoroughlly exhausted and in need of a sleep in. What a diverse group we were, but I've never people get along as well and become friends as quickly as we did. It was really sad for the 3 of us that are ending our trip here in Swakop to wave bye to the rest of the people as the truck pulled away. My least favourite part of traveling is the constant making of good friends only to have to say goodbye. Thabani, John, Jean-Paul, Frank, Birgit, Jonna, Maike, Moni, Christiana, Abir, Linn, Casey, Mika, Nanae, Batya, Shaak, Tracy, Teres and Crystal: you guys are awesome and will be missed. Good luck with the rest of the trip and I hope to run into you again on the road or at least online.
Day one of this week long epic was spent in the Cedarberg mountains, a place where the orange orchards span the valley for kilometres. I'm happy to say that I think my lame sense of humour had something to do with helping the group bond. Arriving in the afternoon, we went for a quick dip in the nearby river which was great because it was DAMN HOT here. Come to think of it, going for a 2 hour hike in the sun was probably not a wise idea, but our Rastafarian-Bushman guide Skoki was hilarious and we did get to see some several-thousand-year-old San rock paintings. Who knew 4 blurry, faded blobs could lead to a 20 minute explanation?
Up early the next morning - and every morning after - we filed back onto the truck, "Sammy" (don't call it a bus or Thabani will get upset) and headed directly north to the Orange River, which is the border between South Africa and Namibia. I was amazed how quickly the landscape changed; I closed my eyes for a nap, surrounded by lush greenery, and woke up to a dry landscape that looked something like Arizona. It got hotter and dryer as we moved north through Springbok, sweating the whole way. Arriving at our campsite, we pretty much headed straight for the bar, where the wind began to kick up something fierce. The massive dust storm across the river was fun to watch but not so much to eat. After a quick dinner break it was back to the bar, where we waited for the expected 60 Swedish to arrive on their pink buses. No, it wasn't a gay tour company but apparently they operate all over the world so that Swedes don't have to be bothered with interacting with other nationalities. Some of these people had been drinking all day already, so the show was pretty entertaining.
Day three started with a leisurely 9km canoe trip down the Orange River, which was a lot of fun. Because it was so hot I jumped out for a cool down at least 5 times. Fun Fun. Getting back on the road, we crossed the border into Namibia and booted it for Fish River Canyon, the second largest in the world (which, means I've seen the big-3: Grand, Fish River and Blyde River.) We arrived at camp and set up tents just in time to see hands down the most beautiful sunset I've witnessed. You could look in 4 different directions and see a completely different background, I couldn't shut up about it for hours after. This was probably my favourite experience.
On day 4 we entered the Namib-Naukluft National Park, which is mostly semi-desert. A day of mostly driving, and a roadside lunch under one of the only trees along the way, we got to enjoy a long "African massage" thanks to the "African style roads" (unpaved). Setting up tents, we made our way to the Sesriem Canyon. Although this one was much different than the last - maybe a thousandth of the depth, it was really interesting nevertheless. Plus we got to hike down to the bottom. Another amazing sunset. At home, "somebody" started a game of 'I never' which really helped the bonding, and I think I won (lost?) the game.
Day 5, we woke up at the ungodly hour of 5:30 to make sure we could hike to the top of Dune 45, a 250m high sand dune in 'Sossusvlei' for the sunrise. This brought me back to the Moroccan Sahara - the colours were killer - but somehow I was not as impressed by the view. That is until I got to the bottom of the hill (via a short sprint), and got a better sense of how freakin' massive this dune is. REALLY IMPRESSED. Our guide said something interesting - in his 37 years it had never rained in this desert... except for the massive downpours the past 2 years. Climate change anyone? We didn't have far to drive today, so we decided to take advantage of the fact that our campsite had a pool and broke out the rum. To convey the quality of this rum, a bottle of Captain Morgan's spiced rum costs about 10 dollars in Springbok. This stuff was half that price. But hey, when you mix it with Litchi-Apple juice, it doesn't taste half bad. So with 4 or 5 of us having a really good buzz going, we got on the bus. Drunk people usually aren't punctual so I missed a chance to shower, but I did manage to get half the bus corked with this evil concoction. We had some great laughs.
Arriving at our new home in Solitaire, the smallest city in Namibia, we continued with a few beers and some apple crumble.This afternoon was another one of the highlights - I don't remember the last time I had a group of people in stitches for so long, including myself. I love to laugh. Eventually and inevitably the conversation turned more serious - a dozen people discussing life, the universe, everything, and attempting to solve Africa and the world's problems. I am really happy to know that there are so many amazing people out there that want to do good in the world and I have no doubt that they will. Thanks guys for an amazing conversation.
Day one of this week long epic was spent in the Cedarberg mountains, a place where the orange orchards span the valley for kilometres. I'm happy to say that I think my lame sense of humour had something to do with helping the group bond. Arriving in the afternoon, we went for a quick dip in the nearby river which was great because it was DAMN HOT here. Come to think of it, going for a 2 hour hike in the sun was probably not a wise idea, but our Rastafarian-Bushman guide Skoki was hilarious and we did get to see some several-thousand-year-old San rock paintings. Who knew 4 blurry, faded blobs could lead to a 20 minute explanation?
Up early the next morning - and every morning after - we filed back onto the truck, "Sammy" (don't call it a bus or Thabani will get upset) and headed directly north to the Orange River, which is the border between South Africa and Namibia. I was amazed how quickly the landscape changed; I closed my eyes for a nap, surrounded by lush greenery, and woke up to a dry landscape that looked something like Arizona. It got hotter and dryer as we moved north through Springbok, sweating the whole way. Arriving at our campsite, we pretty much headed straight for the bar, where the wind began to kick up something fierce. The massive dust storm across the river was fun to watch but not so much to eat. After a quick dinner break it was back to the bar, where we waited for the expected 60 Swedish to arrive on their pink buses. No, it wasn't a gay tour company but apparently they operate all over the world so that Swedes don't have to be bothered with interacting with other nationalities. Some of these people had been drinking all day already, so the show was pretty entertaining.
Day three started with a leisurely 9km canoe trip down the Orange River, which was a lot of fun. Because it was so hot I jumped out for a cool down at least 5 times. Fun Fun. Getting back on the road, we crossed the border into Namibia and booted it for Fish River Canyon, the second largest in the world (which, means I've seen the big-3: Grand, Fish River and Blyde River.) We arrived at camp and set up tents just in time to see hands down the most beautiful sunset I've witnessed. You could look in 4 different directions and see a completely different background, I couldn't shut up about it for hours after. This was probably my favourite experience.
On day 4 we entered the Namib-Naukluft National Park, which is mostly semi-desert. A day of mostly driving, and a roadside lunch under one of the only trees along the way, we got to enjoy a long "African massage" thanks to the "African style roads" (unpaved). Setting up tents, we made our way to the Sesriem Canyon. Although this one was much different than the last - maybe a thousandth of the depth, it was really interesting nevertheless. Plus we got to hike down to the bottom. Another amazing sunset. At home, "somebody" started a game of 'I never' which really helped the bonding, and I think I won (lost?) the game.
Day 5, we woke up at the ungodly hour of 5:30 to make sure we could hike to the top of Dune 45, a 250m high sand dune in 'Sossusvlei' for the sunrise. This brought me back to the Moroccan Sahara - the colours were killer - but somehow I was not as impressed by the view. That is until I got to the bottom of the hill (via a short sprint), and got a better sense of how freakin' massive this dune is. REALLY IMPRESSED. Our guide said something interesting - in his 37 years it had never rained in this desert... except for the massive downpours the past 2 years. Climate change anyone? We didn't have far to drive today, so we decided to take advantage of the fact that our campsite had a pool and broke out the rum. To convey the quality of this rum, a bottle of Captain Morgan's spiced rum costs about 10 dollars in Springbok. This stuff was half that price. But hey, when you mix it with Litchi-Apple juice, it doesn't taste half bad. So with 4 or 5 of us having a really good buzz going, we got on the bus. Drunk people usually aren't punctual so I missed a chance to shower, but I did manage to get half the bus corked with this evil concoction. We had some great laughs.
Arriving at our new home in Solitaire, the smallest city in Namibia, we continued with a few beers and some apple crumble.This afternoon was another one of the highlights - I don't remember the last time I had a group of people in stitches for so long, including myself. I love to laugh. Eventually and inevitably the conversation turned more serious - a dozen people discussing life, the universe, everything, and attempting to solve Africa and the world's problems. I am really happy to know that there are so many amazing people out there that want to do good in the world and I have no doubt that they will. Thanks guys for an amazing conversation.
Day 6 we traveled inland to Walvis Bay to take shots of flamingos in the distance. Unfortunately I didn't bring my 9 thousand x zoom lense so the pics might not be great. Finally we arrived at my current location, Swakopmund, the self-proclaimed 'adventure capital of Namibia'. A bang on description. We checked into a real hostel (!!!) and took a little tour around town, did some shopping, and went off to an amazing dinner. I had crocodile (kind of tasted like a cross between chicken and halibut), oryx (a kind of antelope - like beef) and springbok (a kind of deer... which tasted like deer and was damn tasty!). And of course these crazy things called 'chips' that look like french fries to me.
Day 7 was yesterday and completely kicked my ass. We started sandboarding at 9am. It was loads of fun but it takes 10 mins to climb the dune and about 1 to get down it so the 'fun efficiency ratio' was kind of low. Although sandboarding is done with a snowboard, we also got to try lay-down sandboarding which is done with a piece of laminate wood. I got up to 75kph!!! The pictures to follow of me wiping out off a jump are legendary. Later that afternoon I had the most exhilarating experience of my life:
I jumped out of a plane at 10,000 feet.
They aren't kidding when they say it's the most fun you can have with your clothes on. The first 4 seconds out the door you find yourself in absolute terror, then it's incredibly peaceful, exciting and liberating to be free falling. At 5,000 ft they open the chute and your tandem partner lets you control the direction (extreme right!! yaaa!!!). I couldn't stop smiling for the entire day, and it wasn't just because of the beers and shots we had at the airport. This morning as I said I waved bye to my new friends, and to get over my melancholy I decided to spend 2 hours catching air off sand dunes on a 350cc quad bike. Great fun!
Now I'm looking forward to a quiet night where I can do nothing at all. Hopefully tomorrow I'll do a bit of sightseeing and move onto the capital, Windhoek, day after to meet up with a guy I met in Pretoria some weeks ago, and eventually into Botswana. Thanks for reading this long winded post, you guys rock!
note: pictures hopefully up tomorrow when I can find a better internet cafe
Monday, March 10, 2008
Halfway thru Namibia
Just a quick update to say that I'm safe and sound in Swakopmund, Namibia. Have spent the last 6 days on tour with 17 other awesome travelers seeing highlight after highlight in the South of the country. Again, I can't believe how much I've seen already, and you may pee a little when you see the pictures. I plan to spend a few days here in town to take a breather from the road and plot my next moves into either the north or to Botswana. No time for a full post right now - we're about to sit down to our first dinner indoors since leaving South Africa (we've been bush camping), but I'll get to that tomorow or next day, after skydiving... Seeya soon.
ps. I greatly enjoy getting emails from people about what's happening at home. So don't hesitate to email me.
ps. I greatly enjoy getting emails from people about what's happening at home. So don't hesitate to email me.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
South African Epilogue
As I did with Morocco, I wanted to reflect on my time in South Africa. Here goes...
South Africa is an amazingly beautiful place in so many ways. I fell in love with the country from the beginning. The country enjoys the best of so many things from other parts of the world that I value: The weather, the wildlife, the coastline, the surfing and the propensity toward 'Braai'ing' (barbequeing) from Australia; the vaste expanses of beautiful wilderness of Canada, the colonial architecture and democratic/judicial institutions of Europe. And beyond this, these lucky bastards get to enjoy so much more: an immensely rich ethno-cultural diversity and history that not even Europeans, let alone Canadians, typically understand. There are 11 official languages in South Africa, and a heck of a lot more ethnic groups with their own proud traditions that go back millenium.
I've come to really enjoy the S.A. accent with its lingo - 'hectic' (crazy), 'howzit?' (how's it going?), 'it's all cocked up' (screwed up) and 'hey brew' (bro, or brother). African time is something I've very patiently had to deal with but have come to accept. If you set something for 10am, expect it to happen at 11 or 11:30am. Regrettably, the beer absolutely sucks here.
I am very fortunate to have picked up the book "A History of South Africa", by Leonard Thompson. He is a white South African, but that didn't stop Archbishop Desmond Tutu from endorsing his book as a compassionate, balanced look at such a tricky subject. Although I'm only halfway through the text, it's given me a much better understanding of what I would call one of the most fascinating histories in the world.
I look at South Africa with deep sadness but with an even greater optimism. The country and its people have suffered immensely. Millenia prior to white colonization, certain groups (San hunter-gatherers) were oppressed by others (Bantu-speaking farmers). Slavery was instituted after the Europeans' arrival. As white pioneers spread East, tragic wars were fought between Black and White, and ethnic hierarchies were imposed. Black tribes began killing each other. Dutch and British fought wars with each other. Eventually, whites consolidated power over what became modern South Africa, however unlike in North America or Australia, whites never made up more than 20% of the total population. Tragically, the result was that whites continually lived in a state of unease that brought about apartheid, a system that robbed non-whites of all political power and material wealth.
In my opinion it should NOT have taken this long to eliminate apartheid. At the same time, that should not take away from the immensely heartening progress that has been made in 14 short years. Racism still exists. Of course it does. It exists in the black woman working the bus station that refused to deal with me. It exists in the white man that gave the black parking attendant the finger for no apparent reason in front of my eyes when the attendant tried to talk to the driver. It's been entrenched in this society for hundreds of years and it's ugly.
But goddamnit that should not take away from the amazing kindness and love between black and white that I have witnessed over the last 4 weeks. When I smile at a black African, she smiles back with all her heart. When I offer my hand, he takes it without hesitation and with vigour. I have felt welcome everywhere I went. The golden rule is alive and well in this country. When you treat someone like you want to be treated, you reap the rewards.
The wounds of the past are healing before my eyes in this country. It's plain as day to me. South Africa has a long way to come. But still, I consider the way it is repairing its society as a model for change that any country would be wise to adopt. Let me illustrate...
As I mentioned in my last post, I was uplifted by an experience I had today at the District 6 Museum. Two groups of school children were on a field trip there (I'd say grade 5s, all male and the most aryan looking children I have ever seen. Seriously there were only 2 non blondes out of 50). These very well behaved children sat on the floor in front of the 'non-white' guide from the museum, listening intently to him speak about Apartheid, politics and racism, with questions flowing both ways.
I, in turn, stood off to the side for about 10 minutes, also mesmerized by this profound dialogue that was happening before my eyes. The intelligence and understanding in the answers being given was remarkable. I wish I could remember the particulars, but I recall that these 12 year old boys had schockingly good understanding of the country's dark past, of equality and of justice. At the same time, clearly the (now black controlled) education curriculum had not made them to feel guilty or ashamed about it. My faith in humanity was uplifted in that 10 minutes, to know that we as human beings can come such a long way in such a short time (only 14 years since the end of Apartheid).
Another important topic is the large Afrikaaner population in the country. These are the original white pioneers of dutch origin. I am torn between loving and hating these people. In one sense I am saddened because I get the sense that they are still deeply resentful of equality for non-whites and long for the good ol' days of Apartheid. I sense this especially in the older generation but it also exists in those that are university aged. I read a newspaper story the other day about several Afrikaaner kids making a youtube video of them forcing black students and cleaning staff to drink 'urine-soup' to protest integration of black and white in the same dormatories. I still can hardly believe this kind of shit still exists in the world.
On the other side of the coin, I greatly admire and relate to what I've heard termed the 'White Tribe of Africa' (Afrikaaners). These are people who fled religious persecution in Europe to build a better life for themselves on a very inhospitable frontier. Much like the Quebecois, they persevered against incredible odds and to this day have a strong heritage, are fiercely proud of their language And yet these people allowed Africa to shape them into something unique of their past. An incredibly fascinating people.
Because my best efforts to stay concise have failed, I'll leave it here. I love this beautiful country, and encourage you to visit if you ever have the chance. I know I will be back someday...
South Africa is an amazingly beautiful place in so many ways. I fell in love with the country from the beginning. The country enjoys the best of so many things from other parts of the world that I value: The weather, the wildlife, the coastline, the surfing and the propensity toward 'Braai'ing' (barbequeing) from Australia; the vaste expanses of beautiful wilderness of Canada, the colonial architecture and democratic/judicial institutions of Europe. And beyond this, these lucky bastards get to enjoy so much more: an immensely rich ethno-cultural diversity and history that not even Europeans, let alone Canadians, typically understand. There are 11 official languages in South Africa, and a heck of a lot more ethnic groups with their own proud traditions that go back millenium.
I've come to really enjoy the S.A. accent with its lingo - 'hectic' (crazy), 'howzit?' (how's it going?), 'it's all cocked up' (screwed up) and 'hey brew' (bro, or brother). African time is something I've very patiently had to deal with but have come to accept. If you set something for 10am, expect it to happen at 11 or 11:30am. Regrettably, the beer absolutely sucks here.
I am very fortunate to have picked up the book "A History of South Africa", by Leonard Thompson. He is a white South African, but that didn't stop Archbishop Desmond Tutu from endorsing his book as a compassionate, balanced look at such a tricky subject. Although I'm only halfway through the text, it's given me a much better understanding of what I would call one of the most fascinating histories in the world.
I look at South Africa with deep sadness but with an even greater optimism. The country and its people have suffered immensely. Millenia prior to white colonization, certain groups (San hunter-gatherers) were oppressed by others (Bantu-speaking farmers). Slavery was instituted after the Europeans' arrival. As white pioneers spread East, tragic wars were fought between Black and White, and ethnic hierarchies were imposed. Black tribes began killing each other. Dutch and British fought wars with each other. Eventually, whites consolidated power over what became modern South Africa, however unlike in North America or Australia, whites never made up more than 20% of the total population. Tragically, the result was that whites continually lived in a state of unease that brought about apartheid, a system that robbed non-whites of all political power and material wealth.
In my opinion it should NOT have taken this long to eliminate apartheid. At the same time, that should not take away from the immensely heartening progress that has been made in 14 short years. Racism still exists. Of course it does. It exists in the black woman working the bus station that refused to deal with me. It exists in the white man that gave the black parking attendant the finger for no apparent reason in front of my eyes when the attendant tried to talk to the driver. It's been entrenched in this society for hundreds of years and it's ugly.
But goddamnit that should not take away from the amazing kindness and love between black and white that I have witnessed over the last 4 weeks. When I smile at a black African, she smiles back with all her heart. When I offer my hand, he takes it without hesitation and with vigour. I have felt welcome everywhere I went. The golden rule is alive and well in this country. When you treat someone like you want to be treated, you reap the rewards.
The wounds of the past are healing before my eyes in this country. It's plain as day to me. South Africa has a long way to come. But still, I consider the way it is repairing its society as a model for change that any country would be wise to adopt. Let me illustrate...
As I mentioned in my last post, I was uplifted by an experience I had today at the District 6 Museum. Two groups of school children were on a field trip there (I'd say grade 5s, all male and the most aryan looking children I have ever seen. Seriously there were only 2 non blondes out of 50). These very well behaved children sat on the floor in front of the 'non-white' guide from the museum, listening intently to him speak about Apartheid, politics and racism, with questions flowing both ways.
I, in turn, stood off to the side for about 10 minutes, also mesmerized by this profound dialogue that was happening before my eyes. The intelligence and understanding in the answers being given was remarkable. I wish I could remember the particulars, but I recall that these 12 year old boys had schockingly good understanding of the country's dark past, of equality and of justice. At the same time, clearly the (now black controlled) education curriculum had not made them to feel guilty or ashamed about it. My faith in humanity was uplifted in that 10 minutes, to know that we as human beings can come such a long way in such a short time (only 14 years since the end of Apartheid).
Another important topic is the large Afrikaaner population in the country. These are the original white pioneers of dutch origin. I am torn between loving and hating these people. In one sense I am saddened because I get the sense that they are still deeply resentful of equality for non-whites and long for the good ol' days of Apartheid. I sense this especially in the older generation but it also exists in those that are university aged. I read a newspaper story the other day about several Afrikaaner kids making a youtube video of them forcing black students and cleaning staff to drink 'urine-soup' to protest integration of black and white in the same dormatories. I still can hardly believe this kind of shit still exists in the world.
On the other side of the coin, I greatly admire and relate to what I've heard termed the 'White Tribe of Africa' (Afrikaaners). These are people who fled religious persecution in Europe to build a better life for themselves on a very inhospitable frontier. Much like the Quebecois, they persevered against incredible odds and to this day have a strong heritage, are fiercely proud of their language And yet these people allowed Africa to shape them into something unique of their past. An incredibly fascinating people.
Because my best efforts to stay concise have failed, I'll leave it here. I love this beautiful country, and encourage you to visit if you ever have the chance. I know I will be back someday...
Leavin' Las Cape Town
Tomorrow I enter a new phase of my trip, leaving the relative prosperity and familiarity of South Africa to discover what will surely be a very different, more impoverished Africa that is less affected by the 'West' and more traditional. I've signed up for a 7 day tour of Southern and Central Namibia. Although I'm loathe to be on camper with other tourists for that long, the itinerary matched almost exactly what I wanted to get out of this leg of the trip; and having everything arranged for you is a hell of a lot easier and cheaper than renting a car. Not to mention having a knowledgeable guide will allow me to get more out of this.
So what have I been up to in Cape Town for the last few days? After the penguins, Lesley and I spent a day on a wine tour. The region around Cape Town and neighbouring Stellenbosch is very hospitable for making wine. It also one of the most gorgeous landscapes I've ever seen (anyone seeing a trend here?) For a total cost of about $50 each, our very knowledgeable guide took us to 5 architecturally impressive wineries to taste a total of about 35 champagnes, wines and ports. It was just Les and I, which was nice, and we had perfect weather that day. We started by walking through the bowels of the area where they process the grapes, glass of champagne in hand at 9:30 am, which was bizarre, learning how wine is made. I felt incredibly posh. By the end of the day I was enveloped in a cloud of absolute blissful oblivion - what I imagine taking Soma would be like.
We had a great pasta lunch overlooking one of the vineyards. At the next winery, owned by the 5th richest man in S. Africa, we enjoyed some fresh olives in a building so beautiful that Lesley has decided she will buy at the earliest opportunity. We ended off, slightly tanked, at a spot where they not only allow you to choose your last 6 wines from a list of about 40, but they let you sample their local cheeses, from Blue to Parmesan to Havarti to Sundried Tomato Goat's cheese. Complete Heaven. I managed to get away with trying each one about 9 times before they stopped me. In my defense, we did end up buying half of everything they sold including some amazing sweet chilli spread that I'm still having on fresh bread every morning. Seriously I'm way too spoiled and need to get out of here. Despite being very drunk, we got the guide to drop us off at a restaurant he recommended, 'Jimmy's Killer Prawns' (Prawn = large shrimp), where we kept the party alive with another bottle of wine, a helping of oysters, and my main course of Hake (a white fish), Queen Prawns and the best calamari I've ever had. Have i mentioned that the seafood here is out of this world? Oh, and they put this spice on all the french fries which makes them taste 10 times better than normal. I'll have to figure out what that is.
So the next day we woke up late (obviously) and took the cable car up to the top of Table Mountain (about 1,000 m high). The result was a 360 degree view of the city and some pretty amazing pictures. We attempted to hike to the highest point of the mountain but that was cut short as Les wasn't feeling well so we headed home.
The next day was my turn to be sick as a dog. Not literally - that would be weird - but ya I really don't have my sea legs. We signed up for a shark dive that took us to 'Shark Alley' about 2 hours north of Cape Town. After only 20 minutes on the boat, we arrive at a very small rocky outcropping, an atoll, if you will, that was home to 60,000 seals. Yes, sixty thousand. And the island was so small that we could have boated around it in 5 minutes flat. So, check out the pictures of the seal throng. Shortly after leaving this area to search for Great White sharks, I started getting a little queasy on account of the gigantic waves. Although I didn't throw up (even when a German guy puked right in front of me), I was straddling the border for a good hour. So I didn't make it into the diving cage and now you know why I don't have any shark pictures (but Lesley does! to be posted soon!).
Hmm, I've been here for over a week, what else can I tell you? Today I went to the District 6 Museum. District 6 was an area of Cape Town that in decades past was a model of ethnic cooperation and harmony that the South African government should have learned something from. Instead they demolished the entire area in the early '80s, displacing 60,000 people, to remodel it as a 'white only' community. Despite the Lonely Planet travel guide's positive review, I got virtually nothing out of the museum itself, which is a disorganized collection of kitsch in my opinion. However, the trip was far from being a waste. I'll discuss that in my next post.
Later in the day I stumbled across the 'Company's Gardens' founded by the Dutch East India Company centuries ago. What a beautiful spot. I also wandered across some beautiful buildings set against the backdrop of my favourite Table Mountain.
For those of you that noticed my 'we' switched to 'I' halfway through this post, well spotted. It's true, Lesley's vacation has run out and she flew back to Canada on Sunday. Without getting too emotional, I will say that I miss her like crazy already. Although it was totally unexpected for me, I fell completely in love with her and wish she was still here. The next 4 months will not be the same without her. Lesley, I will be counting the days... Thank you for making the last 3 weeks the best of my life.
And now, time to shift gears with a different kind of post.
So what have I been up to in Cape Town for the last few days? After the penguins, Lesley and I spent a day on a wine tour. The region around Cape Town and neighbouring Stellenbosch is very hospitable for making wine. It also one of the most gorgeous landscapes I've ever seen (anyone seeing a trend here?) For a total cost of about $50 each, our very knowledgeable guide took us to 5 architecturally impressive wineries to taste a total of about 35 champagnes, wines and ports. It was just Les and I, which was nice, and we had perfect weather that day. We started by walking through the bowels of the area where they process the grapes, glass of champagne in hand at 9:30 am, which was bizarre, learning how wine is made. I felt incredibly posh. By the end of the day I was enveloped in a cloud of absolute blissful oblivion - what I imagine taking Soma would be like.
We had a great pasta lunch overlooking one of the vineyards. At the next winery, owned by the 5th richest man in S. Africa, we enjoyed some fresh olives in a building so beautiful that Lesley has decided she will buy at the earliest opportunity. We ended off, slightly tanked, at a spot where they not only allow you to choose your last 6 wines from a list of about 40, but they let you sample their local cheeses, from Blue to Parmesan to Havarti to Sundried Tomato Goat's cheese. Complete Heaven. I managed to get away with trying each one about 9 times before they stopped me. In my defense, we did end up buying half of everything they sold including some amazing sweet chilli spread that I'm still having on fresh bread every morning. Seriously I'm way too spoiled and need to get out of here. Despite being very drunk, we got the guide to drop us off at a restaurant he recommended, 'Jimmy's Killer Prawns' (Prawn = large shrimp), where we kept the party alive with another bottle of wine, a helping of oysters, and my main course of Hake (a white fish), Queen Prawns and the best calamari I've ever had. Have i mentioned that the seafood here is out of this world? Oh, and they put this spice on all the french fries which makes them taste 10 times better than normal. I'll have to figure out what that is.
So the next day we woke up late (obviously) and took the cable car up to the top of Table Mountain (about 1,000 m high). The result was a 360 degree view of the city and some pretty amazing pictures. We attempted to hike to the highest point of the mountain but that was cut short as Les wasn't feeling well so we headed home.
The next day was my turn to be sick as a dog. Not literally - that would be weird - but ya I really don't have my sea legs. We signed up for a shark dive that took us to 'Shark Alley' about 2 hours north of Cape Town. After only 20 minutes on the boat, we arrive at a very small rocky outcropping, an atoll, if you will, that was home to 60,000 seals. Yes, sixty thousand. And the island was so small that we could have boated around it in 5 minutes flat. So, check out the pictures of the seal throng. Shortly after leaving this area to search for Great White sharks, I started getting a little queasy on account of the gigantic waves. Although I didn't throw up (even when a German guy puked right in front of me), I was straddling the border for a good hour. So I didn't make it into the diving cage and now you know why I don't have any shark pictures (but Lesley does! to be posted soon!).
Hmm, I've been here for over a week, what else can I tell you? Today I went to the District 6 Museum. District 6 was an area of Cape Town that in decades past was a model of ethnic cooperation and harmony that the South African government should have learned something from. Instead they demolished the entire area in the early '80s, displacing 60,000 people, to remodel it as a 'white only' community. Despite the Lonely Planet travel guide's positive review, I got virtually nothing out of the museum itself, which is a disorganized collection of kitsch in my opinion. However, the trip was far from being a waste. I'll discuss that in my next post.
Later in the day I stumbled across the 'Company's Gardens' founded by the Dutch East India Company centuries ago. What a beautiful spot. I also wandered across some beautiful buildings set against the backdrop of my favourite Table Mountain.
For those of you that noticed my 'we' switched to 'I' halfway through this post, well spotted. It's true, Lesley's vacation has run out and she flew back to Canada on Sunday. Without getting too emotional, I will say that I miss her like crazy already. Although it was totally unexpected for me, I fell completely in love with her and wish she was still here. The next 4 months will not be the same without her. Lesley, I will be counting the days... Thank you for making the last 3 weeks the best of my life.
And now, time to shift gears with a different kind of post.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)