Westward Ho!

May 9, 2002-Complaint Department

We had a lovely evening with relatives of some Akron folks. He filled David in on the situation in South Africa as he sees it while his wife and I talked about grand kids. He said that the fear about crime here is real. Even in good neighborhoods he would only walk with groups of 5-6 people but never just the two of them. There are 80,000 Jews in South Africa with most living in Johannesburg. Growing fundamentalist orthodoxy is fragmenting the community and the ultra-right wing orthodox don’t recognize the middle of the road orthodox. Young people are emigrating for economic reasons with most of them leaving the Johannesburg area. It doesn’t sound good. Many of you replied to my inquiry about a rise in anti-Semitism at home. Thank you for that. The news from the San Francisco and Bay area sounded worst of all. I’m so fed up with Jews not being supportive of other Jews. How can we expect outsiders to care?

Our morning started well enough, but began to go downhill. This is my litany of frustrations. We went to the waterfront for breakfast and to do email. We picked up a virus on our floppy at the Holiday Inn the last time we used their facilities so decided to try an Internet Café. We got on line only to realize they didn’t have a disk drive. They only had CD ROM. We read our mail but couldn’t send.

We then went to the South African Jewish Museum and got as far as the synagogue that was built in 1862. There was a charge to go further and we didn’t have enough Rand left to pay that and fill up the rental car before we returned it. Remember, they don’t take credit cards at gas stations here. When we did get to the gas station David was watching the Rands add up at the gas pump and gave a sigh of relief when it clicked off at a price we could pay. We went on to the airport.

Our luggage is lighter now that we’ve consumed all the bottled water and eaten the two-day old pizza. As I mentioned, we’ve managed to destroy two cameras on our journey. That will be a purchase we make in Akron. I’ve also trashed a purse, a pair of cargo pants and shorts. There’s nothing like conspicuous consumption to lighten a load.

I became angry with KLM even before we got onto the plane. We were at the airport three hours before flight time and were the second in line as the check-in gate opened. We always ask for exit row or bulkhead seating and are able to get it quite often. Exit rows are usually not assigned ahead of time since they want to see that you’re physically able to handle it in an emergency. KLM must have a different system, because there were none available. Bulkhead seating is assigned to people with babies first, so I have to assume there will be a lot of them on board.

When we tried to use our American Express Platinum card to enter the Northwest/KLM lounge, we were denied access. We paid $300 for the card so we could use the lounges on long layovers and it’s been useless so far. We thought it would certainly be good when the sign said NW/KLM. We called the AmEx collect number in the States and were told it’s good in Northwest lounges anywhere in the U.S., but is only good in four airports overseas. That certainly wasn’t clear in the literature we got when we bought the card. We also purchased it as insurance for medical evacuation in an emergency. They’ll evacuate to the nearest appropriate hospital at no charge. That sounded good until I realized that if we needed it on safari I’m sure that the “nearest appropriate hospital” would have been in Nairobi. No thanks. I’m not at all pleased with the money we spent for something that didn’t suite our needs. Now all seventy-three of you know about it and all the people you forward this email to do as well.

My last beef in what I hope is the end of my list of complaints is that when we were already past security and found out we couldn’t use the lounge, I asked about Internet facilities. They were only in the main section of the airport and we weren’t permitted to go back there.

So far it’s been a long day and we face a night flight and arrival at our hotel early in the morning with no room booked until the afternoon. I plan to stretch out in the lobby at the Park Hotel in Amsterdam. Let them throw me out.

May 10, 2002-Re-orientation

The flight from Cape Town to Johannesburg was two hours. We had to stay on the plane for security reasons since it was going on to Amsterdam. We left after 1-½ hours and flew another 10 ½ hours to Amsterdam. Fortunately, the hotel had our room available and that’s where we are. They didn’t even try to charge us an extra day for early check-in. The prices here will have us in sticker shock. Our Akron travel agent got a great rate at the hotel, but the price they’re quoting now is almost $450/night. Believe me, it’s not a $450 room. It’s 7 AM and I’m going to join David in a nap. The Park Hotel is about 150 years old and the rooms are European small. We stayed here in 1974 on our first trip to Israel. Nothing about the hotel looks familiar.

Security leaving South Africa wasn’t tough at all and we had no immigration forms to fill out when we entered The Netherlands. David doesn’t think they care why we came. It was all very loose.

There were a couple of hair-raising moments when we became disoriented on the taxi ride from the airport. We definitely have to get used to right side driving, especially left turns and roundabouts.

It’s hard to believe we’re back in the Western world at last.

Toby

Last Days

May 8, 2002-Information
(photo:-Road to Grooteschwartberge Mts.)

I have a question. Just where is the garden on the Garden Route? The guidebook says that some people rave about the drive and some say you don’t need to go out of your way to see it. I think it’s over-rated and I could have lived without it. I would have preferred more time in Cape Town. South Africa was a last minute addition when we made our final booking in the spring of 2001. At the time, it made sense to add it since we had an around-the-world ticket and it didn’t cost any more. Now, I wish we’d gone straight home from Kenya. In 2001, I didn’t have the overwhelming desire to hug and speak to a pregnant belly in Akron. David is happy we came here and, now that we’re about to leave, I am too.

Our quaint little B & B last night had a quaint electrical system. We lost the lights twice. Fortunately, I’d finished writing the email and didn’t have to frantically unplug and hope to avoid a power surge. We decided not to eat at the B & B restaurant since the menu had nothing I wanted. We did go to Jemimas and learned that Jemima is a guardian angel. I also learned that the menus in the area are heavy on steak, lamb, and ostrich. I ended up with pasta. No, David didn’t try the ostrich. Evidently there’s a Biblical prohibition that specifically mentions that bird by name, so he decided against it. We also skipped the ostrich farms and the ostrich shows featuring ostrich riding. I did go into one gift shop to look at ostrich purses, but realized I had no idea what they should cost and left. We also skipped the Angora rabbit farms with Angora rabbit shows. I don’t know what kind of a performance a rabbit can put on and I guess I never will.

Imagination

Sometimes I forget where I am. It’s easy to do that in this part of South Africa. I’ve figured out that some of the architecture reminds me of the southwest U.S. Some of it reminds me of Florida. Oudtshoorn in sunlight is a cheerful conglomeration of those styles plus sandstone Edwardian buildings all of which have gracefully made the transition and have been adapted for modern use.

The main attraction in Oudtshoorn is the Cango Caves. A man armed with a tiny lantern discovered them in 1780. He never knew the extent of the caves or their beauty since he didn’t have the benefit of the electric lights that illuminate them now. The Bushmen used the cave entrance 10,000 years ago for shelter and left cave paintings, which have disappeared due to too many tourists touching them. They never knew about the caverns since they were afraid to go into the dark where they believed their ancestors spirits lived. They eventually left the entire region because of a lack of water. We explored the caves this morning along with 30 Taiwanese tourists, their guide/translator, and the English-speaking guide. Since my Chinese is limited to three phrases, I can say that I heard the commentary twice, but only understood it once. At one point the guide pointed to a formation with his flashlight and asked if we could see it. Before it could be translated, two loud voices called out, “Yes.” Guess who? At some points he cautioned us to “mind our heads” since the ceiling got rather low. I wonder to whom that applied? We were at the rear of the group and not one of the Taiwanese had to duck.

Gazing at rock formations was better than imagining shapes when looking at clouds. These ranged from the usual drapery effects of the stalactites to more elaborate arrays resembling tobacco leaves hung out to dry. There were delicate drippings that looked like a giant spider had woven a huge web and a column that looked as if it had been sculpted out of marble. Some shapes looked like fangs and others like gorilla faces. The “bridal bed” reminded me of the ice cave in the movie Superman I. One castle-like beauty appeared to have been intricately made by wet sand that had been drizzled by a child while playing at the beach. The guide proudly pointed to a wall that held what he said looked like a Bible and a cross. Boy, did he have the wrong audience. The grand finale was when all the lights were turned out and the guide played a throbbing drum-like sound on a wall of stalactites. He said it was what darkness in Africa sounds like. It was a primally visceral sensation.

The oldest formation was dated at 10.5 million years old. Unfortunately, the stalactites and stalagmites are no longer growing. Unlike other caves we’ve toured, there’s no dripping water here. This one is dry. The green tinges on the walls were algae growth caused by the lights they now use when the cave is open. They’re trying to limit the number of tours. The guide and translator repeatedly asked the people not to touch anything, but human nature is funny. They not only rubbed and touched the rocks, but also walked and climbed on them to get a better vantage point for photos.

Trekking Back

Cape Town was 4 ½ hours away and we had to cross the Klein Karoo, a high desert, and scale Grootschwartberge, an imposing mountain. This is when David and I had one of our more inane conversations. We had lots of mountain passes ahead of us. We thought it was better than having to go around and around the mountains to get to the other side. We decided that passes are good things. Passes are our friends. We went through one tunnel. Tunnels are even better than passes. We also drove through what is billed as the longest wine route in the world. It could have been worse. We were not interested in stopping for any wine tasting. If we found anything we liked, we couldn’t take it home with us. We have no room in our bags for anything but flat items. Shipping is costly and I don’t want to carry any more. We’re trying to keep track of six bags as it is.

The scenery was broken up by the occasional picture postcard village in a valley and by signs for Ronnies Sex Shop. I guess it fills a need in the middle of nowhere. We also rode by a primary school where children were playing next to walls that were decorated with red AIDS ribbons. It’s an overwhelming problem in Africa where one in four people is infected with HIV. Perhaps Ronnie can work something out in the way of condom distribution.

We could see Table Mountain from about twenty miles away and listened to talk radio as we rolled into the Cape Town area. The commentator said there is 25-40% unemployment in South Africa. It’s a big spread, but out of the six million unemployed, two million are unemployable due to age and physical condition. Even graduates of universities and technical colleges aren’t finding jobs. The Rand has fallen drastically in the last few years and economic growth just isn’t there. It sounded pretty bleak.

We’re meeting the in-laws of people we know in Akron for dinner. We’re looking forward to the evening and will bring regards from home.

Toby

One Week and Counting

May 7, 2002- Getting In Deeper
(Photo:De Opstal Country Lodge )

Our host at the ocean front guesthouse last night, Gary, is originally from South Africa. His family moved to Switzerland during apartheid when he was small. That probably makes him one of the good guys. He just returned two years ago and built the B & B. He’s a gracious host and let us use his email. As it turned out, he’s also a good cook. Breakfast this morning consisted of fresh fruit, crepe-like pancakes and eggs made to order. That was in addition to a selection of cereals, cheeses, and breads. He also has a sense of humor. There’s a sign on one of the garage doors that reads, “Please do not block this door. This parking space reserved for owners girlfriend.” He had crossed out girlfriend and written in fiancée. One of the other couples was from England. The Englishman proposed to his girlfriend on the beach yesterday before the rains came. The place just has that romantic effect on people. Eva and Heinrick, from Germany, didn’t show for breakfast. She was finishing the better part of a bottle of red wine last night when we went to bed. It’s lucky that we like animals. The B & B in Hermanus had a dog and this one had two dachshunds and a bullmastiff. I love them in all shapes and sizes. Being comfortable with cats and dogs may be a pre-requisite for staying at B & Bs.

The farther we get into this part of South Africa, the less English is spoken. The first language of choice is Afrikaans and we’ve even found some who don’t speak English at all. We noticed that most of the clerks in stores were colored while the blacks held more menial jobs. Apartheid is legally over, but the social and economic stratification remains. The language division exacerbates this as well. The blacks are less likely to speak English and I think that dual language ability is necessary to be upwardly mobile.

We went to Knysna in the rain today. It was a picturesque drive around forest lakes into a one-robot town. We read directions to the wharf shops and they included the notation that we had to turn at the only robot in Knysna. When we asked, the woman fumbled for an explanation. At last, she asked us if we were from the U.S. When we said we were she told us that we call it a traffic light. I never would have figured that one out. We parked the car and were given a bit of entertainment with our security car- watcher this time. He did a little dance as he directed the cars and helped them to maneuver in and out of the spaces. His arms waved, his hands moved in a syncopated rhythm with his feet as he used just the right amount of body language to get his point across.

We’ve found some very good food in South Africa even though the guidebook said the cuisine consisted mostly of meat and starch with sugar or honey added for interest. At lunch we were treated to tunes that seemed to come from an era of their favorite oldies. We were serenaded with “Wake Up Little Susie” and “Tammy” among others of that ilk. I’ve noticed that here and in Australia, and perhaps elsewhere out of the States, restaurants don’t necessarily have their own rest room facilities. There are public toilets nearby that serve a cluster of eateries. In India and Kenya I was lucky if they had a hole in the ground. We also noticed that their use of what we’d consider “racial slurs” is acceptable. I mentioned “colored” when they refer to someone of mixed race. Today we saw a children’s clothing store called “Piccanins.” It sold Aunt Jemima dolls. Tonight we’ll eat at a restaurant called Jemima’s.

The ferries into the lagoon on which Knynsa is situated weren’t running due to the weather, so we opted for a scenic crafts route on the way to Oudtshoorn and failed. It was called the Rheenendal Ramble, but the ramblin’ road stopped at a dirt track and we weren’t going to risk taking the car there. It was a pretty drive as far as it went with tinges of purple heather to distract from the monotony of the green hillsides. We have real heat tonight, a fireplace and a heater. We’ve been making do with space heaters and down comforters until now. We’re staying in Oudtshoorn at De Opstal Country Lodge. The owner, Matilda Schoeman, is the 9th generation of her family to live in the Schoemanskoek Valley. Established in 1831, it’s comprised of converted farm buildings. We’re staying in the stable. The floors are terra cotta tiles and the ceiling is covered with bamboo and beams. Eclectic is an understatement. We have a sitting area in front of the fireplace, our bathroom has two steps down then one up to the commode, and if we don’t cripple ourselves in the night we’ll live to enjoy the Cadbury chocolates on our pillows. Right now David is mesmerized by the fire. It’s not quite the ocean, but it will do. When it got dark last night he whinged that “they took the ocean away from me.”

In another vein, we’ve gotten some email from Australia telling about a rise in anti-Semitism there due to the crisis in the Middle East. We’re totally out of touch with U.S. news. Perhaps some of you could let us know if it’s the same there. We’ll be home in less than a week. When we spoke to Wendy this afternoon I said we’d see her soon. This time we really will.

Toby

Oh Wilderness

May 6, 2002-Paranoia
(photo:View from room at Dunes Lodge)

We had breakfast in the main house of the B & B. I didn’t realize the thatched roofs were visible from inside. The ceiling was vaulted and beamed and the thatch was exposed. It was charming. Unfortunately, one of the guests had their car broken into last night. Despite the wall and security alarms, someone got into the parking area, popped their door open, and took their radio. The wine that was in the back seat was untouched although it looked as if an attempt had been made to access the trunk from inside the car. We left just as the police arrived. Other than making a report for insurance purposes, there was little to be done.

When we parked to go into an Internet café, we were pretty paranoid. It was metered parking but there was also an official looking “car watcher” wearing a fluorescent vest who was offering to take care of the vehicles. I know there’s a saying in business: find a need and fill it. The people here seem to be very entrepreneurial and have come up with a variation on that theme. They’ve created a need and filled it. The locals are the ones who rip off the cars and other locals can extort “protection.” Even if we get out of the car for a short time we’ve started to put the backpack that sits in the back seat into the trunk.

No Eden

When we left Hermanus, we anticipated the beginning of the highly touted Garden Route. So far we’ve been disappointed. We’re not hard to please and reveled in the fact that the road was blacktopped and had a centerline. Drivers out here tend to pass in the Greek way by moving to the shoulder so faster cars can go around them. The courtesy is acknowledged by the passer briefly putting on the hazard lights (flashers) and the pasee saluting with his headlights. The way out of town was lined with rainbow hued rock walls of red and yellow and pink and brown, orange and mauve and gold. The road doesn’t hug the coast as we thought it would and we’ve spent today driving through pastureland. Although that’s not my favorite scenery, there were some sheep that deserved a second look. In this land where color and race is such an issue, I’m happy to report they have white sheep with black heads.

Aloe products are a thriving business in Albertinia and it was suggested we stop at an aloe factory. It was pouring and an indoor activity seemed like a good idea. They had a small café where we had pretty respectable hamburgers. There’s no heat in any of the buildings in the area even though temperatures dip into the low 50’s. The door to the café was open and a fire was going in a walk-in fireplace. We chose a table close to the fire and I kept sliding closer until David suggested we just move ourselves onto the hearth. When it came time for the tour, there was only one real English speaking person to guide us. Afrikaans is very pervasive in the Western Cape area. It’s the primary language of the coloreds, as they’re referred to here, and most of the whites. This is the route that the Boers took for their Great Trek in an attempt to leave the British behind. The factory was pretty rudimentary and the stench got into David’s nose and mouth. He had to eat a bag of small chips and drink some pop before it would go away.

Mossel Bay was a quaint little town that was eaten by a petroleum refinery. The plant dominates the approach from the West but doesn’t detract from the historical importance. Bartholomeu Dias landed in Mossel Bay in 1488. He was sailing a Portuguese caravel and was the first to sail around the Cape of Good Hope in search of a route to India. There was a model of the ship in the maritime museum and it was a wonder. In 1988, it actually was sailed from Portugal to Mossel Bay to celebrate the 500th anniversary of Dias achievement. It is 70 feet long and 20 feet wide. It’s the size of a modern tugboat. Even on land, the deck was slanted and the footing was insecure. The railings were very low and there just wasn’t a lot to keep a sailor from falling overboard. It was steered by using sails and a rudder and tiller system since the use of a wheel to steer hadn’t yet been invented. The enormity of the challenge was emphasized when we saw the navigational instruments available then. They were so primitive, but they seemed to do the job.

Near the museum is a 500-year-old milkwood tree called the Post Office Tree. Since 1501 sailors would put letters into a shoe under the tree. Anyone going in the direction of the recipient would pick the mail up and deliver it. Today the tree is the size of a large house and looks like it can go on for another 500 years. The branches have gotten so heavy they drape all the way to the ground. It’s very private and peaceful when you walk underneath.
Heaven

We slept well last night in spite of a thunderstorm. As I was dozing off a massively loud clap of thunder nearly lofted me out of bed. That was the last thing I heard until the alarm and the voice of our granddaughter Alex saying, “Love you Sabba and Savta. Hope to see you soon. Miss you. Bye.”

We’re sipping hot cocoa and eating cookies in our room at The Dunes Lodge, our B & B for tonight in Wilderness. There was a change in topography as we came into this area. All of a sudden we were in densely forested terrain. Our room has the most magnificent view of any place we’ve ever stayed. There’s an entire window wall with sliders out to a deck on the beach. The Indian Ocean is literally lapping at our door. There have been rainstorms on and off today and it’s reflected in the angry green-gray color of the sea. The waves are intimidating, large, and topped with foam that looks as if it has the consistency of shaving cream. The wind is whipping the white caps into froth and spray is flying two to three feet into the air. The house itself is new and modern in its adaptation of terra-cotta color stucco with a Mediterranean flair. The entry opens to a great room with soaring spaces that overlook the pool and ocean. With breakfast, the cost is $65.

David wants me to buy him an ocean. It will be very hard to tear him away to go to dinner. It’s dark now and all we can see is the white of the foam, a fading blue corner of sky, and the last glint of the sun on the clouds.

Toby

Hopes and Fears

May 5, 2002-Helpful
(photos:Us at Southernmost point of S. Africa,
Road compannion)

A question I would never think to ask at a Shell Gas Station: Do you take credit cards? We found one in Hermanus that only takes special bank debit cards for use at petrol stations. Credit cards aren’t accepted at any gas stations in South Africa. The gas was pumped and in our tank when we found out. We’re getting short on Rands and have to pay cash at our B & B tonight. I guess it’s a trip to a bank tomorrow to cash another travelers check.

I was interested in the explorers of long ago when I was a child. I was fascinated by them as a teacher. Names like Vasco de Gamma and Magellan sound to me like the Scott Carpenters and John Glenns of today. There was no way I wasn’t going to the Cape of Good Hope. It’s about an hour by car from Cape Town and we left before breakfast. We meandered along the shoreline to the town of Camp Bay and on to Hout Bay. There we stumbled into a restaurant called The Rumblin’ Tum. The food was plentiful and lovingly prepared, but the bonus was that there was a TOBI (Tourist Office of Booking Information) at the back of the place. We chatted with the owner/agent about our planned itinerary to the Cape and along the Garden Route. While we inhaled our breakfast she got us organized. She provided us with maps, routing, bookings, and a detailed verbal compass of written directions to our B & B’s as well as sights along the way. She cautioned us about dangerous roads to avoid and suggested driving times so we didn’t have to rush as we “tootled” along. Although one route looked shorter on the map, she said we could be assured that if the car broke down we’d be robbed, the car stolen, and perhaps our lives taken. This was in an area between the sand dunes and the highway to the airport. There are miles upon miles of “township” settlements just like the shantytowns of Soweto that we see on the news. From a distance, the bright colors of the patchwork shacks jump out, but up close it’s deadly.

The way to the Cape took us through the wine country of Constantia, upscale walled residential neighborhoods, past horseback riders in traditional English habits, and cottages with thatched roofs. We climbed up into the Tokai forest and down through seaside dunes. Towns were pastel blurs hanging between the crags and sea. Buildings were a hodge-podge of Cape Dutch, tile roofs, and stucco construction giving them a Mediterranean ambience. Scuba divers were parked on the roadside at every turn and unabashedly changed into and out of their wet suits..

We paid our entry fee at the Cape Peninsula National Park. David later noted that no one checked our tickets to be sure we’d not sneaked in by bribing an official as they did in Kenya. For a minute we did think we were back on a game drive. The road was posted with warnings about the danger of feeding the baboons and we were kept alert dodging ostrich. There were enough ostrich to say there was a herd but I didn’t know if this was the correct terminology. I knew that a gaggle was of geese and ostrich are too big to be a flock. I decided that a large number of ostrich was an oodle. Oodles of ostrich has a nice ring.

Hopeful

The Cape of Good Hope is where the warm waters of the Indian Ocean meet the cold Atlantic. We were headed for the south-westernmost point in Africa overlooking this region called Cape Point. It was raining as we boarded a funicular that went up to a promontory where there was a lighthouse built in 1857. By the time we reached the top, the sun was out and the clouds had lifted. We ended up in the midst of a Turkish tour group whose English consisted of “Istanbul, Turkia, and Bosphorous.” Everyone was taking each others pictures and we understood when they offered to take ours. We returned the favor.

As we were leaving the park, we saw a road going down to Cape Point at sea level. It was a terrifying and impressive experience. We were face to face with enormous roiling breakers and could easily see white caps crashing over daunting reefs. A freighter was rounding the Cape and making its way West from the Indian to the Atlantic Ocean and the plight of the early mariners became clear. Our respect for them grew as we thought about how they were out in the elements in small ships without the aid of sonar, radar, radios, satellites, or global positioning and weather data.

Our drive towards the Garden Route took us through Strand, an unimpressive seaside town of bland buildings across from a bleak beach littered with kelp and pebbles. I think the beaches of the Gold Coast have spoiled me forever. The natural beauty surely outshone the manmade. The sun was bouncing from sea to mountains as it illuminated the vertical rib-like rocky protrusions that clung to the cliffs. Black storm clouds hung over the peaks as we admired the red rock face that covered the lower ranges. The drive was so pristine that even the overlooks were paved with tidy red bricks in neat geometric patterns. I’ve seen mountains, sea, and sky in such a splendid display before this. I guess I’m blessed with a poor memory since each time I look upon those wonders it’s like seeing them for the first time.

We made good time since we realized that certain stretches of road had no speed limit. We got to Hermanus at dusk and had trouble finding our B & B, Westcliff House. The voucher had the wrong house number on it. We sorted things out as the heavens opened and we had to dodge the rain as the thunderstorm that avoided us all day hit with a vengeance. It was short lived and we moved into our cozy $30/night room. Westcliff House is behind a wall and has an electric security fence. All the houses in this neighborhood do. All the houses in all of the nice neighborhoods do. The B & B is a salmon colored stucco building with a thatched roof. I feel like I’m going to be sleeping with Shakespeare tonight.

We had pizza for dinner. We tried one with beef and peri-peri sauce. That’s a spicy African marinade. It was delicious even with the gherkins that were on the pizza. They served a dish of minced garlic on the side. I was in garlic lovers heaven and liberally applied the mushed cloves making a big dent in the bowl. I hope Shakespeare likes garlic.

Toby

Uhuru

May 3, 2002-Making A Getaway
(photos:Table Mountain,
Mandella's jail cell)

Computer “Chai” (lives)! I didn’t want to give it a “k’ayna hora” (to jinx as in giving an evil eye), but it has survived the highways and by-ways of Kenya. We held our breath after every ride and Jackson always checked with us to see if we were still up and running. He was a sincerely conscientious guide and put our comfort and safety first. He put in a bid for us to promote tourism in Kenya and emphasized that it was safe to go on safari. I reminded him that it was not long ago that the U.S. embassy was blown up in Nairobi. He agreed that might still be a deterrent for Americans.

I must say that the staff at the tent camp was on the spot when things didn’t go right. When I mentioned my ultra hot shower, they sent a crew of four men over to fix it. They all jammed into the stall and made a mess as only plumbers can. A maid who cleaned it up followed them. David had a blissfully temperate shower.

We’re now waiting for our flight on South African Air to Cape Town. David has only panicked three times since we got to the airport. He thought he’d lost his passport, a boarding pass, and a ticket on separate occasions. They were all found safe and sound where they should not be. We always like to look at the departure board to see the names of places we haven’t been. I decided I didn’t want to go anywhere I couldn’t pronounce.

The faces of passengers in the boarding area here are so white. It was a bit startling. Where are all the black Africans? I guess they’re not flying today. We got hit with another $10/person “insurance tax” but paid it with $20 U.S. cash so we didn’t have to mess with a credit card this time. We shifted the weight around in our carry-on bags in case they weigh them. We’re carrying water from India (we found it at the bottom of a suitcase) and Kenya, granola bars that came to us from the U.S. by way of Australia, and bread and butter sandwiches from our tent camp. We will not starve or dehydrate. When we bought film with our leftover shillings I saw a bill in the cash drawer that confused me. I questioned the cashier and he said it was a new U.S. $5 bill. We’ve been away too long.

I think the Hong Kong brothers made it to Nairobi, but we had to stop to help two vanloads. One was stuck in the mud. Six drivers pulled up and helped push. The second one had electrical trouble and help was on the way. We couldn’t take on their passengers since we were deadheading to the airport. Another “k’ayna hora” is that we never got stuck and we didn’t break an axel.

We went from primitive life to the sophisticated city and it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended. I don’t really think there’s a division at all. As we passed a glistening white satellite substation, we came upon goatherds and gazelles wandering in the road. When we entered the city limits of Nairobi there were still women toting huge bundles on their backs that were supported by straps that went around their foreheads. The swales and ditches along the roads are public domain and were being cultivated by people who live along the way. A truck had jack-knifed and the traditional way to alert drivers was to cut branches and lay them in the road similar to the way we use flares. Never without a machete, drivers stopped to help with this project. We rolled past public housing that make tenements in the Bronx look luxurious. In the city traffic jams, men were hawking wares as they set up a roving marketplace and wove in and out of the slowly limping traffic. It was a patchwork of eras, societies, and civilizations. My last sight of the “wild” was a hartebeest running across a field. His powerful muscles drove him on in pursuit of nothing but the feel of the wind in his face. He epitomized what black Kenyans fought for: Uhuru, freedom.

May 4, 2002-Detainees

The pilot on our flight to Johannesburg was a real card. He announced that one of the passengers decided to go into Nairobi to shop and was not back yet. His luggage was off the plane and we were ready to go. We went. When we were landing the pilot addressed the cabin crew and told them he had a 1 ½ hour drive home and didn’t want them to drag their heels getting off the plane once the passengers were unloaded. They seem to be a folksy bunch. I know this will sound pathetic, but I really got excited about the food on the South Africa Air flight to Johannesburg. There was a marinated salad that actually had flavor and a really nice chicken and rice. The food on safari was so average.

We only had one glitch when we landed in Johannesburg. We were finally at a real airport with shiny floors and high ceilings. It was an airport that looked complete. It was neither being renovated, partially built, nor falling apart from neglect. Aside from admiring the airport, we found out we might be denied entry to the country and have to spend 7 DAYS in the lovely airport. It did not seem so lovely anymore.

They wanted our vaccination certificates at immigration. All those papers were in a suitcase that had been checked through to Cape Town. We had to retrieve our luggage at baggage claim in Johannesburg, go through customs, and re-check them since Johannesburg was our entry point into the country of South Africa. David’s knees got weak. The official said he would keep our passports until we got the certificates for him. David told him we had to make a connection to Cape Town at which time the official stamped the passports. David offered to come back with the certificates but the man said he believed we had them. I wasn’t freaking out since I was having trouble understanding the official’s accent and in my mind things seemed to be moving along swimmingly.

Needle and Haystack

As an added bit of excitement, one of our bags was the last to appear at baggage claim in Cape Town. David was getting philosophical saying that somebody’s has to be last. We picked up our rental car in Cape Town at 11:30 PM after having traveled from the tent camp since 8 AM. We didn’t want to get lost going to the hotel late at night. We’d heard it’s not prudent to be driving around Cape Town in the evening without knowing where the safe places are. We got explicit directions from Avis and they were explicitly wrong. We were looking for the Holiday Inn Waterfront and had to stop at a gas station to ask. They tried to help us, but we went astray again. The place didn’t seem that sinister, but David was punchy and had stopped functioning. To add insult to injury, the rental car had the windshield wiper and directional signal controls reversed from the cars we’d driven in Australia. Every time David went to signal he put on the wipers. It unnerved and irritated him to such an extent that it became a real distraction. I was able to keep track of where we’d been in relation to where we were. I remembered passing a Holiday Inn off the highway and decided we should go there to ask where ours was. We lucked out and a local couple was just leaving that hotel after visiting a friend. They told us to follow them and led us to the doorstep of the Waterfront. We collapsed into our lovely room that actually has sheet rock walls and ceiling and electricity that stays on 24 hours a day. It’s a little piece of heaven.

Tarnished Jewel

Europeans first approached Cape Town as a way station while sailing around the Cape of Good Hope to the Indies. In 1652, the Dutch came. French Huguenots and British followed them. There were battles among the Europeans, among the African tribes, and between the Africans and Europeans. When anything of value was discovered like gold and diamonds, the British solution was annexation of that territory. In the end, South Africa was run by the Boers (Dutch, Germans, etc.) and the British. Apartheid and its evil was institutionalized in 1948 and mostly supported by the Boer population with Brits going along without much protest. It’s hard to imagine the Dutch settlers were so bigoted since The Netherlands is such an open society today. I guess the Calvinist Church of the 1600’s was the instigator for that mind set. When apartheid ended, the country was left with eleven official languages. English and Afrikaans are the most common and most signage is in both. I was surprised by how many people speak Afrikaans as a first language and how many speak heavily accented English. It’s kind of like French Canada. Those here of British stock have an accent similar to New Zealanders in that they say “fush” for fish and “sucks” for six.

We woke up to a stunning sunny day in the 70’s. We drove out to ride the cable car up Table Mountain and enjoyed the neighborhoods along the way. Cape Town seems to be a charming city sprawled at the base of the mountain and hugging the bays. It’s a miniature Sydney, Australia or a huge Queenstown, New Zealand. In any case, it’s a piece of Eden. Living here is cheaper than Australia. In South Africa we might live like multi-millionaires. David had a T-bone steak dinner tonight for $US 4.80. Unfortunately, its affluent white population who doesn’t trust the economy of the country is abandoning Cape Town and are afraid that the violence that has taken hold in the Johannesburg area will intensify here.

We’ve been on many cable cars but never one like this. It’s a huge round pod that holds about forty people standing. As the car goes up or down the mountain, the floor rotates while the glass walls stay in place. That affords everyone a 360-degree view. The mountain is rather steep and we watched in amazement as we sailed past rock climbers. We had breakfast at the top and realized that the coffee bar menu was intelligible. In the country that had overthrown apartheid, there was no such thing as a long black or a short white coffee. We were back in the land of espresso and cappuccino.

We returned to where we’d parked and were happy to see that Bonnie and Clyde had protected our car while we were gone. It’s common here for people to offer to watch your car and belongings for a “donation.” Evidently they perform a needed service and the names of our protectors gave it a unique twist.

We wanted to go to Robben Island where Nelson Mandela had been incarcerated so we drove on down to the ferry. It’s not hard driving here since the traffic proceeds in an orderly fashion and the rules of the road seem to be obeyed and enforced. The ferry dock is in a bustling area of the waterfront centered around an old clock tower and lined with shops and eateries. I got a rush when we came out of the parking lot into a new, modern shopping mall that was spotless. The inventory was clean and the shopkeepers didn’t ambush me. I told David I intended to move in for the day. My statement was prophetic since we had over an hour wait for the ferry and then decided to have dinner at the waterfront when we returned.

I didn’t know if the water here was safe to drink, so I asked people who looked like tourists about their experience. They said they had no problems with the water or with eating fresh uncooked fruits and vegetables. I’m looking forward to my first sandwich with lettuce and tomato in a long time. I’ll also revel in being able to rinse my toothbrush under the tap instead of sloshing it in a glass of mineral water.

Another Prison

We’re once more able to gaze out over the Atlantic Ocean. It’s the wrong side of it, but we’re closer than ever to the U.S. A sign indicated we’re equidistant from Miami, Florida and Sydney, Australia. Robben Island is seven miles off the coast of Cape Town. It ‘s had a long history as a way station for passing ships, a slave trading depot, a leper colony (5100 are buried there), a WWII battery, and a prison. In 1960 the criminal population was increased by the addition of political prisoners. The ANC and PAC civil rights movement had begun and wouldn’t quit until apartheid was dead. Prisoners were put to hard labor in quarries until 1971. Those not working in the quarries were put to work breaking up the rocks into little pieces. In Kenya we saw people along the roads doing that voluntarily just to earn a living. The rules of apartheid weren’t surprisingly applied within the prison walls until 1979. Food and clothing was apportioned by perceived “race” with the lighter “coloreds” getting more than the blacks. No whites were interned on Robben Island. Eventually Mandela was permitted to run a school there and many of the prisoners were ready to take a seat in the new government when they were freed. The last prisoner left in 1996. In its heyday, the island had 450 prison staff and 2000 prisoners living there. Now the 250 staff of the site and cultural center lives and works there. There have been three escape attempts with the only successful one being in 1600.

In the scheme of things prisons are awful places even if they have a million dollar view of Cape Town. We’ve seen our share over the last nine months. Certainly the Hanoi Hilton was worse than this. The conditions and maltreatment of the prisoners in Port Arthur and Sarah Island in Tasmania was more abysmal. No view could make up for the abuse and degradation that took place on Robben Island and the political prisoners fought a worthwhile fight. A lot of the impact of that battle was tarnished for me by the knowledge that today Nelson Mandela has taken the stance of sympathizing with the Palestinians and labeling Israel as promulgating their own form of apartheid. Even though Mandela has come up on my side of several issues and has been instrumental in promoting social action for AIDS treatment in Africa (a great number of people here wear the red ribbons), his anti-Israel position certainly taints my feelings about him.

Toby

Natural and Other Dangers

May 2, 2002-Too Close For Comfort
(photos:Jackson & me at border,
Guard, AK-47, & me,
Hippo family)

The birds woke us this morning. It was a good thing since the alarm didn’t. We’re a thin piece of canvas away from nature and it’s apparent from the sounds. I would have preferred something more substantial last night between the outside world and us. Another chorus of birds was lulling David to sleep after lunch when one raucous renegade sounded off in a different key. We started laughing and that was the end of his nap for a while. We came back after dinner to find a large and mean looking spider on our front flap. One benefit of living in a tent is we can never lose the key. All we have is a zip lock.

Before we left this morning, I told the people at the reception desk where we were headed and when we’d be back. I also took bread and jam from breakfast this morning. If we were going to get stuck I wanted to be ready. Truth be told, I also crammed some toilet paper into my fanny pack. I had little to worry about since several vans headed in the same direction as we did and Jackson managed not to drown us in any of the pond size puddles we navigated nor did he get mired in the mud. I’m happy to report that the Hong Kong brothers didn’t get stuck either. I spotted my first animal all on my own today. I thought it was a fox, but it turned out to be a jackal. They travel in pairs and sure enough the mate showed up. It was not that great a sighting but it was my first solo. We also saw hartebeest and a pair of male lions as we headed towards the border of Tanzania and the Serengeti Plain.

Border Crossings

It took us 2 ½ hours over you-know-what kind of roads to get to the border marker between Kenya and Tanzania and two hours to get back. Jackson drove in a circle around the marker and we got out to take photos. The Serengeti is empty now. In June it will be overrun by millions of wildebeest. They’ll migrate from Tanzania into Kenya and in October, they’ll return to Tanzania. Our destination was the place along the Mara River where they cross. It’s a known habitat for hippos. We were met at the river by a heavily armed (AK-47) guard in camouflage gear and wearing military issue boots. He was to be our guide on the walking tour in search of hippos and crocodiles. It was the first time we’d been permitted to step outside the van when it was not in the compound and I was a bit nervous. The guard’s artillery calmed me a little, but I did wonder how long it had been since he’d practiced. I literally followed in his footsteps as we made our way through mud and tall grass. We were now in the lions’ playground and walking through snake grass. I was reassured that lions sleep during the day, but I had no such confidence in the daytime habits of snakes.

The crocodiles didn’t intrigue me, but we were very lucky in our hippo search. They’re usually in the water during the day and hard to see. We found several families on shore and one enormous year old baby settling down for a nap. Papa was standing (swimming) guard duty in the river during siesta time. Evidently, they’re monogamous. There were 15-20 hippos in one place as well as several other groups along the way. We spotted several sets of ears bobbing in and out of the water and it was obvious when one of the adults either submerged or surfaced. There was a giant sucking sound and a loud snort. I can’t exactly say that the hippos were romping or frolicking since they’re so cumbersome those words do not apply. They did look as if they were “making fun,” as Jackson would say and seemed very tranquil.

All we seem to do is sleep, eat, and ride in a van. It was good to get out and stretch our legs. When we returned to the van, the pop-top was closed. There’d been hostile baboons in the area. We’ve learned to take it all in stride.

Last Chance

When we came back from our afternoon drive I decided to take a shower. I had plenty of hot water but not enough cold. I did an original little dance as I hopped in and out of the water trying to rinse and not get burned. Neither one of us showered last night. It’s been cool and I’ve been chilled in the tent. I also dread staying in the bathroom longer than I have to. Last night I slept in David’s socks and my bathrobe. Tonight I asked for another blanket. At least in this place we have one bed so I can get some body heat. The rule in the lodges seemed to be twin beds.

Our last game drive was extremely rewarding. I think I’m becoming inured to the violence out there. It’s similar to what the critics of TV violence claim. When exposed to it enough you get used to it. We came upon two cheetahs eating an impala they’d killed. They were sharing nicely and every once in a while they shifted the carcass. At one point a long leg bone and hoof was sticking up. I’m sure the impala was a relative of the nearby herd. The cheetahs were in tall grass and would pop up from time to time to check the crowd. Maybe they were counting the house to see if their performance was a success. At one point there were twenty vans surrounding them. That didn’t include those vans that had come and gone already. These elegant cats are distinguishable from leopards by a black teardrop shape under their eyes. We couldn’t get too close, as there are rules about where the vans can go, but the binoculars brought them into our laps.

David and I both made our own separate sightings of hyenas on the hunt. We tried to follow his, and were roaring along until we hit a really sloshy area. We began to slip and slide and ended up doing a 360 and heading back to find another route. We let that one go and found another cluster of vans gathered around a pride of lions. These were different ones than we’d seen yesterday. There were two females, a male, and six cubs of about two months old. The cubs were the epitome of cute. They were full of life and squirmed around making bath time hard for their mom. The dad just lolled around on his back and stretched until one of the cubs decided to play pounce with his nose. It was the picture of iconic happy family at rest.

The grass is lush and green and all the animals are walking around with full bellies. There are gorgeous scenes everywhere we turn and the light paints fantastical shadows as it plays along the hills. The animals are all photogenic and there’s every opportunity to catch them in magnificent poses. Then we realized that our camera is terminally ill. We bought it eight months ago in Australia and the motor seems to be dying. The zoom only reluctantly zooms and we’re managing to pull it out manually. We’ll check at the duty free shops when we leave, but I have a feeling there are no deals there. We’ll also look in Cape Town, but I think we can limp along with this one. We only have ten days to go.
May 3, 2002-Mud Run

The Hong Kong brothers did get stuck in the mud briefly yesterday afternoon. I don’t know what’s with their driver. They’ll leave half our earlier for the airport than we this morning so we can help them if they need it. We all watched at dinner as the mystery of the silverware once again occurred. The waiters come to the tables from time to time and rearrange the flatware. They remove some and move some into new positions on the table. I have not figured it out. I think they take away that which they suspect will not be used. This bothers me, because they remove it very carefully and only touch the handles. I suspect that it’s not washed before it’s re-set. Last night David had all his flatware taken away while he was eating dessert. Mine was just shifted to another position. Go figure.

We enjoyed some Amarula after dinner. It’s made from an African plant and tastes like Bailey’s Irish Crème. We were waiting in the bar by the fireplace for the Masi Warrior Dance Show. The dancers burst in wearing full regalia and marched through to an open lawn where the show took place. The dancing consisted of walking in a line or a circle using a strutting step that alternated with a skip and a lope with the neck thrust forward as a bird would. When they stopped, they began to do their famous leaps. They took turns showing their skill one at a time sort of like break dancing. Some of the guests were invited to join in. Frankly, I wasn’t impressed with the height of the jumps. Michael Jordan has done better. The chants were low guttural atonal sounds interspersed with “yips.” I’m not disparaging them when I say “yips” since that’s what was actually said. There was no explanation of the performance, but I overheard one of the workers telling a guest there were three dances: one for a wedding, one for circumcision, and one for dying. It was all very authentic I’m sure, but it was done with a lack of enthusiasm. The performers were only too happy to put n their fifteen minutes and run.

We will head for the airport this morning and confront our nemesis, the unsurfaced roads of Kenyan parks. Jackson sounded bitter when he said they collect $27/person as an entry fee and he has no idea where the money goes. It certainly isn’t used to grade the roads. The brochures for these kinds of safaris always warn away people who have back or neck problems but they don’t and cannot capture the extent or severity of the conditions. I’m amazed that neither one of us got a muscle pull or strain. We figured we’ve spent thirty-seven taxing and rigorous hours traveling from place to place in the van. That doesn’t include the twenty-two hours we spent on game drives. The reward of seeing the game is phenomenal but individuals have to weigh it against the effort.

I’m glad we came, but I’m ready to be someplace where things aren’t damp all the time. I’m also over the condescending, obsequious, fawning, and servile behavior of the workers here. I’m ready for some casual, familiar, and perfunctory American service.

Toby