Avenue of camphor trees, Stellenbosch
I only drove around the Durban airport once before I found the right intersection that led us out of the airport and on to the highway. Kristen patiently endured the tour, but I could tell she wasn’t in the mood for a second lap, so I think we were both relieved when we were finally under way. Considering we could have missed our connecting flight from Jo’burg because Kristen forgot she had her Swiss-Army knife—the one she’s had since middle school—in her carry-on bag and airport security made us go back and check it through, I knew I had some leeway. Thankfully I didn’t have to burn too much of this valuable capital so soon after earning it.
I counted Kristen not realizing that cars in South Africa drive on the opposite side as we’re accustomed to in Madagascar (and the US) until just before we left Tana a blessing. The rental car, a budget Corsa-LITE, came thoughtfully equipped with a sticker in the upper right-hand corner reminding me to “KEEP LEFT!” This I faithfully did, and also, for at least that first day driving up to Hluhluwe Backpackers Lodge in the Kwa-Zulu Natal, Kristen let me know when I would wander out of my designated lane. All in all, I’m glad the switch over came more quickly this go-round than the last time I was driving in South Africa, twelve years ago.
For years Kristen has been fond of saying occasionally, “I want you to show me South Africa.” Somehow she was convinced that the six-months I spent there so many years ago made me uniquely qualified to fulfill such a request. Two weeks is hardly any time to spend in South Africa, you’ll barely scratch the surface; so as a compromise, we agreed to squeeze in a bit of the old (Sodwana Bay and Cape Town) with some new (St Lucia, Hluhluwe Game Reserve, and the Drakensberg Mountains).
I think even as early as landing in Jo’burg, I felt my memory begin to betray me. Granted South Africa has boomed since I left in 1994, but even so, I think there’s more to this feeling. I believe I was a very young and hedonistic 19 years old when I first set foot in South Africa and never got curious beyond whatever was happening immediately around me. Much of my memories are suspect and lacking in detail, and now that makes me a bit sad. I like to think I’m more clued in these days, so, in some ways I was seeing everything as fresh, and with as much awe, as Kristen.We spent the first part of the trip in the Kwa-Zulu Natal region of the north-east. From Hluhluwe we organized trips into the Greater St. Lucia Wetlands, which is designated as a World Heritage site, and contains a Living Lake in Lake St. Lucia. Our rangers were two Afrikaner brothers, who were fun. Like most of the Afrikaner folks we encountered, these guys were BIG and they ate (and talked about eating) a lot of MEAT. They recommended a restaurant in Jo’burg called The Carnivore, and to hear them talk about it this must their idea of paradise.
The older brother had spent 6 months in the US a few years back playing rugby and killing turkeys in South Dakota. Apparently a group of 15 South African boys went over en masse and spent their time playing exhibition matches with different College or club teams on the weekends. Then during the week, they’d return to South Dakota and the turkeys. He estimated proudly that he’d killed on order of 1.6 million turkeys during his tenure at the processing plant.
From Hluhluwe, we made our way farther north towards Sodwana Bay, but not before taking a game drive through Hluhluwe’s eponymous park. We didn’t see all of the Big Five, but Kristen’s bright eyes led us to see 3 out of 5: rhino, Cape buffalo, and elephant. We’ll have to go back and look for lions and leopards another time. Kristen was particularly taken with the impala, which were plentiful and lively.
Here are some pics from:
1) Champagne Castle in the Drakensberg Mts.
San rock painting2) Hluhluwe and St. Lucia Wetlands
Hungry hippos3) Cape Town
Prisoners on Robben IslandOne thing we found amusing about South Africans was their rigid sense of order. They seem to be very particular about how most things get done. At one place in the Drakensberg Mts. if you’re going on an organized group hike you need to be present at exactly 9:15 am and you will hike for exactly 5 hours with a 20-minute break for lunch and be back at the parking lot at exactly 2:35 pm. In our hotel rooms signs posted in the bathroom reminded us that we were not to fiddle with the settings for the water heater and that the candle and matches were not to be taken outside of the room. I think the coup de grâce came at the cinema in Cape Town: after purchasing our tickets we were asked to choose our seats. This we found totally hilarious and completely over the top.
When we were planning our trip, we left Cape Town for the end, as a kind of treat, and it didn’t disappoint. Cape Town must be unique among cities, framed by two very different oceans and tall, spectacular mountain peaks. Add to this the ability to shop at malls, eat at fancy restaurants, and take in movies, and you have all the elements for having a very good time. And that is exactly what we had during our four days at Cape Town.
Our time wouldn’t have been half as nice had we not met up with Bertha, a friend from my first trip to South Africa. Bertha is one of those people with boundless amounts of energy and generosity. She opened her home to me and Hewett for more than a month and made sure we did everything we wanted. This time around was no different. With little advanced planning, she cleared a weekend and drove Kristen and me around the Cape. She crammed into one morning and afternoon a weekend’s worth of sight-seeing. We blitzed Kirstenbosch botanical gardens and saw, among other things, the avenue of camphor trees planted by Cecil Rhodes for the Queen of England. At a small fishing village en route to Cape Point we ate the most divine fish and chips. The fish was so fresh that it must have been swimming around, happy as Larry, earlier that morning before becoming our lunch. We made a quick stop and saw penguins swimming in the ocean and socializing on the beach. Cape Point, the southern-most point (well, not technically the most southern point, but effectively so), was fogged in, cutting down visibility dramatically, but we still got our pictures taken at the sign, for posterity. And if that weren’t enough, we caught the last gondola up to Table Mountain before the sun set. All the while Bertha kept a running commentary on the history of the area and sharing with us her opinions about what the new South Africa is and where it’s going. And, at the end, Bertha drove us to the airport to catch our flight back to Jo’burg. I told her I hope it’s not another twelve years before we see one another again; she’s a gem.
In Jo’burg, we spent a really bad night at an airport hotel. The food was revolting and until around 10 o’clock it sounded like a plane was taking off or landing in the parking lot about every 20 minutes. I suppose it was a small price to pay for having an otherwise good vacation.
