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Pretoria to Cape Town, December 2001
Having retired early last night, we awoke refreshed and
ready for more explorations. A solid English cooked breakfast was had, and then we were faced with the first of I'm sure many rather controversial remnants of South African history - the Voortrecker Monument
, in which one learns of the story of one of the first Boer treks, who had to flee the evil English who suppressed them in the Cape province. That lot got promptly slaughtered by the
Zulus. It was the Boer women who then made their menfolk try again: a better prepared expedition of 470 armed men then proceeded to kill some 7000 Zulus (better tactics and
firepower). That day is now called Reconciliation Day.
Pretoria
is a pleasant enough smallish city (with c. 1 million inhabitants), some nice colonial buildings, situated among some gently rolling hills. Apparently the Government moves every six
months to Cape Town, and then back again, according to the climate (since when it's hot, it's HOT!). |
The Canyon, furthermore, is located right at the edge where the central highlands border on the Lowveld, the low
plains of the Kruger Park, with Mozambique visible on the horizon. In contrast to the US version, this canyon is very 
green, full of vegetation, bushes, trees and all. It actually opens up into the lowlands, so that looking on the one side, one sees that
deep gorge, whilst on the other one overlooks half of Kruger Park.
Over a large area one drives through bizarre rock formations reminiscent of Bryce Canyon, only these cover a much wider area and are not nearly as high.
In comparison to this Bourkes' Pothole 
is quite small - a deep and
frothy gorge where one Bourke, many a year ago, struck lucky with gold.
The landscape gives way to vast swathes of commercial forestry. Huge forests are being grown, as monoculture, to supply much of the world's paper. I feel uneasy at this sight - I'm not sure this is the best for the ground. On the other hand, the original rain forest had disappeared long ago, when the first Europeans decided to grow foodstuffs here.
Then, suddenly, we drop 1100 metres! There is an
“escarpment”, i.e. a ridge like a fortress wall which stretches for miles and miles, dramatically showing the boundary between high- and lowlands. At times, there is a sheer drop of
thousands of feet.
And finally, we arrive at the aptly named Sabi River Sun Resort - where one is immediately warned not to mess with the hippos! Amongst the hotel literature, I found the following paragraph (neatly tucked away underneath a chapter called "The Monkeys and You"):
"Caution with regard to the hippos which reside in the lake. The fence surrounding the lake is electrified. However, on occasion, the hippos do manage to get out and it is extremely important that you are aware of this possibility at all times. The hippo, although appearing docile, is a dangerous wild animal and you are urged to take care, particularly if you have children or are walking on the grounds after dark. From time to time crocodiles also take up residence in the lake and these should always be treated with extreme caution".
We were undisturbed, though, and it being hot, a club sandwich was quite enough in terms of food - the buffet was left untouched.
A nice evening was spent on the veranda, sipping a cool beer (swatting little flying crawly creepies...).
10.12.01
Today your Intrepid Explorer hacked his way into one of the last spots of wilderness left on this continent. Our party was ambushed by a small group of natives who refused passage without a bribe, but were quickly mollified by a small token (such a peaceful solution seemed preferable to a full frontal assault). Further progress was slow, for one because of the heat which has become quite oppressive (we estimate up to 40°), for another because our party was keen to spot and catalogue as much of the wildlife as one could. It seems as though this territory has now been extended to the neighbouring former Portuguese colony of Mozambique; fortifications which used to separate these lands have been removed upon resumption of friendly relations between the ruling classes of both countries.
In fact, this reserve, the Kruger Park (cf. map 
), is the third oldest such institution in the world, Yellowstone being
the first, and Hluhluwe (don't you even try to pronounce it, it's Zulu) the second.
We soon happened upon a settlement where we were able to obtain some accommodation for the night - some native huts fashioned from mud with thatched roofs. Supplies were also obtained, water especially - evidently, travellers are known to have perished from lack of water.
We also spotted a luxurious village where, recently, one of our
politicians, one Mr Rexrodt, on a journey paid for by unsuspecting taxpayers, contracted malaria, fell 
seriously sick, but unfortunately recovered.
Locals advised us strongly to take suitable measures to defend oneself against that sly assailant, the female mosquito, which is prone to suck one's blood leaving behind a residue containing that obnoxious disease, malaria. Unlike the first settlers, who, unwarned and unwelcome by the natives, died miserable deaths by their hundreds, our party intends to fight off that scourge with bravery and chemical warfare.
Our party proceeded to advance into the bush, hoping to glimpse, even if only for an instant, those majestic animals which Africa is so renowned for, the Big 5 (and no, we're not considering accountants here). And indeed, we soon happened upon a group of lions which were, alas, half hidden behind some bushes. None of our group volunteered to either remove the bush or encourage the beasts to approach us for better viewing.
The countryside still showed signs of the devastating floods a few years back - former flotsam could be spotted in what now were treetops. The season is currently rich in water, which greatly benefits the plants, being lush, green, and abundant. Of course, this also means that game is more difficult to be spotted since they have better camouflage available, and are also not in need to congregate around just a few watering holes. Indeed, we were surrounded by thick, impenetrable bush, cut open by an occasional river laden with brown, muddy torrents, carrying rocks and debris with it, a glaring hostile sun above it all, threatening to burn us - intruders as we are - mercilessly into submission, whilst some of the more dangerous wildlife no doubt watches us from a hidden redoubt, saliva gathering at its deadly fangs, anticipating its next meal...
All things considered we preferred to make a dinner of them rather than being dinner for them, and therefore decided to retreat to the safety of our hovels, and replenish our strength with a cool bottle of Chardonnay.
11.12.01
Yesterday was a most leisurely day - our party spent the time by gradually making its way South, once again battling its way through the dense bush. The wildlife seemed to have been warned, since most of it was not to be seen - again, mostly a factor of the freshness of the bush.
At some point we stumbled upon a settlement built upon a river where we gladly rested and refreshed ourselves only 
to be surprised by some low, ominous sounding grumbling - and indeed,
before we could fully be aware of the new dangers thrusting themselves upon us, the sky had become pitch dark, and the sluices of heaven opened up! Luckily, we were able to retreat to our carriage that
then took us safely to our nightly accommodation, which, happily, was already awaiting our arrival. One could then retire to a viewing deck overlooking the Crocodile River which afforded undisturbed views of
some hippos getting ready for the night - in other words, getting up, being night-active animals.
We were then treated to a very nice dinner (Steak and Fillet, resp.), with yet another bottle of Chardonnay - your faithful reporter has become rather fond of that particular beverage, as you no doubt would have gathered.
The night being cool, it having rained, was spent in peace and quiet, mosquitoes being notable for their absence in cooler climes (mind you, "cool" still means high twenties).
12.12.01
The Intrepid Explorer left the last remnants of civilisation today in that he ventured into that exotic enclave
known as Swaziland (cf. map 
). Entry into that smallest kingdom of the Dark Continent reminded him of
similar procedures the unsuspecting traveller has to subject himself when trying to enter one of those Eastern provinces of the Asian steppes - papers need to be produced, stamps have to be bought, and all
happens at a leisurely pace with much waiting and loss of time. Further, we had to cross the frontier on foot, to our
consternation, especially since Mother Nature deemed this the right moment to bless this parched earth with otherwise welcome precipitation.
“Facilities” are provided - please note the shrewd observation
by the locals of the condition of the White Man when he needs to frequent said facilities...
The path to Mbabane led across high passes which may seen snow in winter (i.e. July or August), and is crowded with other vehicles (heavy transports carrying ore of various descriptions may be observed travelling at snail's pace with smoking brakes). A new, more convenient carriageway is currently being worked on with the help of that large neighbouring country, South Africa.
Your correspondent was especially irked by the fact that his means of mobile communications were rudely cut off once away from the border areas. A black hole opened up (no pun intended) and he was reduced to trying to place calls through a switchboard, with lengthy waiting times, and many futile attempts to reach that capital of Rus, Moscow - calls of that nature undoubtedly not being in frequent demand in these parts.
Swaziland boasts a most varied 
landscape - and also was able to provide a gambling den in Izulwini which attracted many
a visitor from the somewhat more puritanical neighbour, South Africa; further, the separation of races was not really practised in Swaziland, and Swazi girls have a reputation for beauty...
however, more recently gamblers tend to frequent Sun City, gambling laws having been relaxed in SA. Your faithful reporter thought it his duty to research some of the
intricacies of the local gambling habits; you, however, dear reader, may rest assured that on loses one's money just as quickly here as in any other casino... The set-up on
the inside was most reminiscent of Las Vegas, albeit not on that grand a scale, whereas the setting outside was dramatically beautiful - a lush green park, Jacarandas
, Bougainvillaea and untold other decorative plants, an elegant little lake, a golf course, a bowling green, a white colonial-style hotel with its terrace overlooking all of the
above - should one be a member of the ruling class in these parts one may indeed enjoy a most luxurious lifestyle.
One encounters differences in perception which may be
surprising for a visitor from Europe: I asked a white guide as to whether he spoke any African languages, to which he replied, of course, Afrikaans is my mother tongue. When pressed, he did
admit to knowledge of other languages such as Xhosa or Zulu, and, of course, Fanagalo, which is a new language which developed in the mines (which is where workers from all areas of
Southern Africa came together in the search of jobs, and needing to communicate, developed a kind of Pidgin, a Lingua Franca consisting of a mix of all languages spoken in the area.
Apparently one can get by with Fanagalo all over Southern Africa.)
I have yet to hear a Boer make a joke about himself or his tribe...
Later in the day, the Intrepid Explorer led his party out of Swaziland into Kwa-Zulu Natal. The empire has had is experience with the Zulus in the past, and therefore we girdled our groins, readied ourselves mentally, and carried our weapons loaded and ready - especially after we learned about the development of the short fighting spear, developed by the Zulu king Chaka, who thought it silly to throw your traditional long spear at your enemy, and thus strip yourself from your fighting implement.
Coming from Swaziland, we had moved steadily downhill, and found ourselves back in the Lowveld, with the heat and humidity once again reaching oppressive levels. The sky is still somewhat overcast which does not, of course, protect from deadly rays from the sun - the whole southern hemisphere suffering from the hole in the ozone layer.
AIDS, of course, is also a major problem, so one of the churches put up a sign saying "Jesus comes... in condoms".
In Hluhluwe
("hl" in Zulu is pronounced "shl", but the "sh" sound originates from the left back half of your cheek; the Welsh have the same sound) we
entrusted ourselves into the hands of a local guide who took us in an open-deck Land Rover across the park - and finally we saw some rhinos! Two
males lounging in a muddy water hole, having the ticks removed by water-turtles, with the same expression on their faces as chimps getting deloused
, or men getting a shave at the barber... Poaching has been much reduced, virtually eliminated, but last year some 30 rhinos got killed by elephants.
Rhinos have bad eyesight, mistake elephants with rhinos, and start to tangle with them. Bad idea. They get stomped on.
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14.12.01
We had been assured that this area is malaria-free - which may be true enough, but it doesn't mean that the area is bug-free... thus the night was spent in entertaining duels with various creepy-crawlies.
The next day, however, we entered the Zulu's den: we were guests of
Chief Thomas (his Zulu name, again, being unpronounceable for us). Scantily clad (topless) ladies welcomed us to the sounds of beating drums, whilst the men ceremoniously showed off their prowess in dance
and song. This seemed friendly enough, so the regiment refrained from cutting them down. We were then offered the traditional local beer, brewed from maize, sorghum and water (a beer with a low alcohol
content (1-1,5%) and a shelf-life of one night). There used to be the habit of inviting your enemies and then kill them with poisoned beer;
now, however, the beer-maker (usually the chief's wife) is required to drink from the brew first, and also offer it to the chief before the
guests. Thereupon, after much rejoicing, we were treated to a Zulu lunch: a maize puree, boom-boom beans (actually, "thunder of your
behind" beans), pumpkin, potatoes, and a meat stew (Zulus normally eat vegetarian, animals being too important as a means of storing value; however, on special occasions even the Zulus
go on a binge and may slaughter a cow).
As seems fitting, men are served first by the girls and young
boys, as they will also all sit to one side of the chief; only then will women guests be served. Should one wish more food or drink, one gestures at the servants, or one's own wife, who
will then provide for your every need, respectfully kneeling whilst handing you the food. Zulu women are not expected to argue or disagree with their husbands, but to obey and flatter
them. This they do; however, behind the backs of the men, they will go off and do what they want, anyway. Morality is highly regarded, though - there are few children born out of
wedlock, hardly any divorce, and orphans and old people will be integrated into the clan as a matter of course.
And again, one encounters a paradigm shift - from the local population's point of view the white, Western way of living seems completely absurd and incomprehensible (and the way they put it, one can't really argue with them). I suppose that if you have a group of people living in a traditional, uncorrupted way, we shouldn't try to interfere - the problem arises, of course, when the locals live in a halfway house between their way and ours. Anyway, enough trite banalities.
Durban! (cf. map ) Once again, the thing that strikes me most is the extraordinary similarity to Oz - at least when 
one approaches the town via the coastal road from the North: the long, sandy
beach, the style of the buildings, the vegetation, the humidity, even the rain (yes, it is raining today) bears an uncanny similarity to Sydney. A short shopping
expedition shows that crime must be a factor - security guards everywhere, suspicious shop-owners, and public signs encouraging civic duties... Iron bars in
front of shop windows, a fair share of pawn shops... There are shanty towns springing up on the edge of town. Our guide explains that under the former
government they used to send in bulldozers to get rid of them, but now "the house owners won't be able to sell their house any more". Durban is a
predominantly Indian town, where Whites and Blacks are a definite minority; it is also bilingual: English and Zulu (as opposed to CT or Jo'burg, where Afrikaans is
spoken). Durban is also known as Thekwini in Zulu. Natal is a province once
"stolen" by the British; therefore, according to Afrikaaner lore, the bureaucracy is particularly fierce. I'm not so sure about that one... in my experience, any bureaucracy is a chore.
We end up at the beach promenade
- but it must be said that this area seems past its prime. Everything is ever so slightly run down, has a shabby feel to it. The hotel must also have been
luxurious once, but has also seen better days. On the other hand, it is the home of the Jewel of India (unlike Tashkent, one can tell by the name of a restaurant which sort of cuisine it offers), which,
according to the blurb, is supposed to be one of the best in town.
Later... what a lovely curry! Samoosas (that’s how they spelled it), two curries, rice, Naan, a bottle of wine - all that came to 200 Rand only. Amazing (but then the Rand has devalued a lot these past years).
15.12.01
Aircon was a must last night - this whole area is well known for its heat and humidity. Never gets colder then 16¦ in winter, up to 35¦ in summer. Humidity? Make a fist and wring out the water...
There are plans afoot for major city rejuvenation, a CT-style waterfront is supposed to happen soon. A good thing, too: the whole harbour area does not strike me as particularly busy (in comparison to what? Singapore? Rotterdam? Wrong class of port...)
Durban is the most important port for SA; this is where much of the natural resources get shipped out (SA even exports granite). Taiwan and Israel are traditional trading partners, but in the past years Germany has become to largest trading partner in terms of value.
All right, ignore much of the above. We have now wandered about the centre of town, compleat with lovely if imposing colonial governmental buildings (brown sandstone and granite, pillars supporting Britannia and Justicia - in that order), palm tree-lined avenues and parks, bustling shopping streets (including cars marked "armed response"). The centre is planned on a grid system, modern high-rises (most owned by the de Beers conglomerate) mixed with mock-Tudor-colonial remnants but quite appealing.
Then, the Indian Market
- pure orientalism! Masses of people, blacks and Indians, pushing through Victorian arcades, buying and selling every spice imaginable (including a mix called The Stepmother's Revenge); the
meat market with every imaginable bit of every imaginable animal on open display, entrails and all, the aroma subtly augmented by zillions of dead fish also for sale, plus shops
, stands and stalls selling everything else, everyone shouting and shoving, cars clogging the streets, and the hot sun above it all... Tiring for some, exotic for others.
Relaxation may then be sought at the Durban Botanical Garden, which is lovingly kept and most beautiful to behold. Your correspondent was not the only one to be of that opinion - it being Saturday, there were many wedding parties about, all keen to have their photographs taken in that lovely environment. Whole extended families done up to the nines (if maybe a bit OTT), all having a whale of a time. Luckily, a breeze has come up, and it turned pleasantly warm without being hot; also the humidity has mostly disappeared.
Another thing that was noticeable: all along the 
Victoria Embankment, the main drag at the centre of Durban, next to the harbour bay, there are very many art deco buildings, so that at times you'd think you are in
Miami, pastel colours and all. It seems the Brits developed a taste for it at the time...
Oh yes: at night, in the park next to the beach, a group of kids would congregate and train to beat the English. At cricket, that is...
For dinner we repeated our Indian experience - I seem to be converting my mom towards a liking of mild curries... :-) I'm sorry to report, Danny, that we had white yet again - but we had tried some local Merlot and Pinotage along the way, and lovely they were, too.
16.1.01
This morning we had to rise and shine with the sun, quite literally, at 5 am, in order to catch a flight to PE (Port Elisabeth). 
It's not recommended to drive that bit from Durban to PE: some 900 km through the former homelands of
Ciskei and Transkei over non- existent roads and no accommodation worthy of attention. Those homelands had been neglected and badly run during the Apartheid years. It's
now more known as bandit country. Today, there's a new province, Eastern Cape, which incorporates those areas, but development will take years, of course.
PE is known as the friendly city, and it looked it. Industrial but not disagreeably so, again with lots of art deco buildings. Still, there is a move to the suburbs, on the American pattern. There are now shops in the former homes along the main roads, little or even not-so-little houses converted into offices for lawyers, doctors, software companies, and so on. The burbs are nicely done and look clean and wealthy. Striking: no signs of security concerns! The houses have only low walls or none at all, US-style open gardens. As the last time when we were here a few years ago it still seems to be true that crime is not nearly as bad as up North.
BTW: most cities are now being renamed to mostly the traditional local African name. PE, on the other hand, is now (or will be?) Nelson Mandela City; only Cape Town seems to escape that fate. I don't really believe in renaming things, yet it seems to have worked with Zimbabwe. Remember the former name of Harare? The Eastern Cape area is known in Xhosa as Kragga Kamma...
Your Explorer's party then made its way towards the Garden Route (cf. map ). We passed many a tree plantation;
interestingly enough, a forest fire a couple of years ago destroyed most of the commercially planted trees but left the
indigenous plants alone... what is this trying to tell us? At the Blaukrans Bridge your reporter pondered the possibility of
jumping off the highest bridge in the Southern hemisphere - a bungee jumps of 216 metres; after careful consideration,
he declined the offer. Apparently, suicide candidates are encouraged to bungee jump first, as a dry run, as it were. Should they not change their minds, they can jump again, no strings attached.
It is still quite warm, some 20°, but the sky is overcast, and an occasional drop of rain may be felt.
The Intrepid Explorer then passed the settlement of
Plettenberg Bay, a former fishing village which has been elected the Playground of the Rich and Famous. One may observe that most of
the carriages - those of the more luxurious kind (i.e. not a Kalahari Ferrari [a donkey cart]) - are identifiable by the number plate as
being from Jo'burg - "GP" (Gauteng Province), also known as Gangster's Paradise - whereas those visitors call themselves the Good People. Plettenberg Bay is only populated over Easter and
Christmas; for the rest of the year this town provides employment for security firms and gardeners... At "Millionaire's Row" a house
can be had for c. 2m Rand (c. DM 400.000); in Durban the same house will cost 600.000 Rand (c. DM 150.000). A dead give-away by European standards. The purchasing power of a Rand is the
same as a D-Mark; for the locals the price-earning ratio (i.e. salaries vs expenses) is the same as for us.
There's been a reform of the car-number plate system: Eastern Cape is now EC, Northern Cape is NC, and Western Cape? No, they complained about that one! It's now WP, as in Western Cape Province...
Having progressed to Knysna on the Garden Route the rain developed into a steady drizzle... Waterfront of Knysna: short sleeves, bermudas, plastic rain cape... brill.
However, the rain lets, and it still being warm, a stroll on the beach is called for - lots of people, actually, seem to be of the same opinion. And unlike the beach of Durban, where one's shoes are nicked within 10 minutes, nobody here seems too worried about the occasional mugging. Nevertheless, your faithful reporter did not go out unarmed - the pepper spray was well within reach.
Finally, it seemed appropriate to have a look at the local pub, Irish, as it happens. Just a bit odd, though, if the barkeepers talk to each other In Xhosa... I spent some time with a (white) local, bought him a drink, and listened to his tale of woe. A farmer from the North-west, the Kalahari, who had to sell is farm because of the drought, and who is now a bus driver. He thinks he country is going to the dogs. There is very deep mistrust between the groups (no just white vs black, but also among the rest); the Black Empowerment Act is a mistake (top new black civil servants haven't a clue), the road system, once the best in Africa, is deteriorating rapidly, there is a brain drain, one of the greatest mistakes the old government did was not to elevate the coloured to the same status as whites ("Coloureds are 75% white, they know how things work!"), the ANC makes wild promises to the poor, black proletariat which then goes on a rampage if these promises (houses, jobs) can't be met, and that murders of white farmers (a regular occurrence) are politically motivated (the only reason the government doesn't openly advocate the expulsion of whites is because they are all militarily skilled and would fight back). Prison is not a punishment for may of the very poor blacks - they can't get decent shelter and regular meals elsewhere. AIDS will, however, kill millions of blacks, maybe the balance of power will change again. He prays for "the world" to put a stop to this; thinks it a mistake that the world lost interest after the fall of the apartheid regime. Well, that was one voice of the common man...
17.12.01
Inspection of the troops and replenishment of supplies!
Oudtshoorn (cf. map )
has for the past 200 years been the secret source of the strength of the Imperial Mounted Ostrichry, for it is whence that the Regiment receives those
noble beasts! Ostriches have been bred here for ages; the local industry cunningly disguising itself as suppliers of feathers and meat so that no-one else
may ever learn that these glorious animals are in reality bred for their ability to charge the enemy at full speed (at 70 km/h for several miles). Unfortunately,
martial prowess was found to be incompatible with a keen mind; ostriches are extremely curious and will eat anything; thus the Regiment has yet to devise a
way from preventing its mounts from eating the decorative brass buttons of their riders' parade uniforms... (embarrassment had been caused in the past when,
whilst at attention on parade, members of the regiment have lost parts of their full dress uniform from ostriches picking off the buttons from behind...)
There is a massive mountain range which stretches parallel to the coast, the effect of which is to catch the humid clouds coming from the South. Once you cross these mountains (there are a number of spectacular passes!) you find yourself in the Little Karoo, a semiarid area. Looking back you'll see the clouds caught in the mountains...
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18.12. - 19.12.01
It's about 500 km from the Garden Route to Cape Town. Turning off the N2 at Swellendam, we made our way through the Little Karoo to CT, passing spectacular landscape once again. The character of the land changes constantly, from huge wheat fields at Swellendam to the first wine growing areas, through massive gorges to the suburbs of CT. There is a tunnel, over 4 ks long, the Huguenot Tunnel, where all heavy vehicles go through a compulsory inspection for lights, brakes, leaking fluids... Dangerous loads can go through with an escort only - a 100% safety record since the tunnel opened 20 years ago. Of course, if they did the same at the European tunnels you'd get a traffic jam a million miles long... Might be worth it, though.
Cape Town! Everybody keeps going on and on how beautiful it is - well, IMHO it is nice but so are quite a few other cities: Sydney, San Francisco, Milton Keynes... The Table Mountain, I think, is only fussed over because it dominates the city so much - otherwise, there are zillions of table mountains just as high elsewhere; seen no end of them in Namibia, for instance.
Equally, there's a lot of hype about the
V&A Waterfront, a former derelict old harbour that's been rejuvenated (as in Docklands, London, or Darling Harbour, Sydney). It's become
a monster Shopping Mall, indistinguishable from any large American Mall. OK, there IS a waterfront, and there are many eateries - if you like crowds and small kids waving ice
cream cones, it's all right, I suppose. I just found it very tiring.
The CBD (Central Business District) of CT is seemingly becoming Americanised as well - large sections are inhospitable to pedestrians; just offices. There is a smallish section, along St George Street Mall, where one may walk a bit, the old Botanical Garden, and Adderley Street, the main regular shopping area. Now that I think about it: at the Waterfront you find mainly white families, in town black families... Still segregated, unofficially.
Then, of course, there are the suburbs, which start very quickly outside the CBD. Lush gardens, lovely villas, expensive cars in the driveways; across the road, shanty towns have sprung up. The government has a hard time coping with these people hungry for a job, just as in any other major 3rd world city, be it Mexico City or Shanghai...
20.12.01
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The winelands start at about 50 klicks outside CT. Luckily, the Intrepid Explorer had learned from his experience the last time round and did not try to take the overland route, through town... Then he had gone on an unwelcome sightseeing tour of the, shall we say, lesser parts of town; this time he quickly found the Nasionale 2 to Paarl. Happily, he steered his trusty carriage through the plains and valleys of the winelands all the way to Stellenbosch; there, time was spent to search for appropriate accommodation.
The plan is to stay in CT until Saturday and take advantage of our guide
who will be available until then; afterwards we're on our own! As it happens, Stellenbosch has plentiful to offer in terms of appealing inns, and
it took us little time to find The Oldest Inn in South Africa, D'Ouwe Werf; the manager has a lady friend who lives a stone's throw away from my
mother's, and he involved me in a discussion on the intricacies of writing a thesis in economics... to stay we had! (cf. map )
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Some miles further took us to
Franschhoek, which at first sight seemed hot and sunny. Yet, undaunted, we found a lovely spot by a lake, with a grandiose view on the mountains, to relax and refresh
ourselves with provisions brought along for this purpose.
The way back was less enjoyable;
your faithful reporter had to battle the heat, rush hour traffic and incompetent drivers (yes, these do exist here as well) before collapsing on the terrace of the Nelson, the
classic Grand Hotel of town, where a most civilised cup of tea was enjoyed.
Stellenbosch! The centre of town is still very "historic", if you will - a number of streets still lined with buildings from
the 18th century, lovely cape-Dutch white mansions, genteel buildings on oak-lined streets. Oaks? Yes, indeed, some
of the early settlers brought these "exotic" plants with them; now there's thousands everywhere. Check it out at www
.stellenbosch.org , or www.stellenbosch.org.za , or www.stellenbosch.co.za , or www.stellenboschonline.com .
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On the countryside, vineyard after vineyard, planted in neat rows. At the end of each row they planted a rosebush; alternating in red and white so that you know what sort of wine to make from which grapes, red or white.
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Stellenbosch Centre has a lot of little ditches next to the road, which once were the water supply, and now serve to cool the town in Summer. A fun entertainment is to watch tourists trying to park: they will regularly run a wheel into a ditch and are then stuck...
Driving is quite easy, road-manners gentle. They also 4-way stops, i.e. a crossroad where everybody has to come to a full stop; then, being polite, a lot of hand-waving ensues, where everybody wants to let the other go first; after that went on for a while, they all start to drive simultaneously.
Roads tend to be excellent. On this particular occasion, however,
the road simply ended - came to a dead stop. Just because a highway crossed it at right angles...
Apart from that not a lot happens, except little excursions about the winelands... (Have read with glee that German roads are clogged with snow - hee, hee!)
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There is an odd meteorological phenomenon here: it seems that it will always rain at Christmas - not in a happenstance sort of way, no, it WILL rain, as in weeks and weeks of sunshine and then, on the 25th, RAIN. It is so regular that no restaurants will take outside bookings. However, next day everything's back to normal - the sun is shining!
Had a long chat with the manager of the Hotel, nice young chap, and listening to him, the situation in the country is different yet again. He says that race is not the issue, economics is. When people emigrate it is because there is no confidence that they'll be better off in 10 years; elsewhere in the civilised world people think they will be. Also, according to him, there is a substantial coloured and black middle class, and it is THEM that emigrate more than Whites. Economic and Central Bank policy is good/conservative, he says, exports are up. But AIDS will put a huge strain on the country's budget which it may not be able to afford. Further, there is dismay that the government has not put its foot down vis-à-vis Mugabe; this leads to a remnant of racial fear that maybe Whites will be chucked out later, after all. He wants to stay; but most of his friends have already left...
Today, 26.12., we went on a longish excursion down to Arniston, some 250
klicks Southeast to the Indian Ocean (cf. map ). A lovely drive, excellent roads,
through miles and miles of wheat fields, which then give way to coastal flatlands. Arniston happens to be a relatively boring collection of holiday houses, but the beach
was nice, lots of dunes on which one can sit and gaze at the sea - "There's India, dear".
Then back via Hermanus, another summer holiday resort which we hated - far too touristy, fast food joints, rowdy pubs, you get the picture. It's strange how people will, lemming-like, congregate on relatively small areas to spend their holidays with the same people they work with back in CT or Jo'burg...
28.12.01
Today, we'll move from Stellenbosch to
Wellington - we found a cottage in the middle of a vineyard - 2 verandas, one with a view on the mountains, the other
with a view on the Paarl valley, and wine all around us... mmmh!
The exchange rate does wonders. Just worked out the price of the meals at the d'Ouwe Werf in Stellenbosch: under DM 50 for 2 including a bottle of wine!
Later: we've now moved in at Diemersfontein - fabulous! Set on top of a hill, enclosed by green vineyards, hills and forest in the background, the sun shining brightly (and hotly!), sitting on a comfy chair on the veranda, sipping a glass of you-know-what, mentally picturing a parade of the troops... it can't get better than this!
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29.12.01
Langebaan
is another seaside resort up on the West Coast (cf. map ). This area is completely different once again: much more barren, with
far fewer people living here. It's the Atlantic Ocean, of course, with a cold current coming from the South; whales, seals or penguins may be
spotted along the coast. There's a strong surf but also a strong undercurrent so that people are not really advised to go swimming. Not
much to do there except wander about the dunes or watch the sea... but people come anyway, lots of holiday cottages. The constant,
strong wind would get on my nerves after a while, though - you can't really sit outside without bits and pieces of your belongings flying away...
And thus was the time whiled away... a wonderful trip!
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