The Road to Kruger

June 15-17

We had picked up our SUV from the Cape Town Airport. We received a white Renault Koleos who we aptly named Aisha, to give her some pseudo-African flair.

We were happy to leave Cape Town and the terrible weather we had encountered there. Our three day journey to Kruger would take us across the entirety of the South African coast, covering over 2000km.

The first challenge we had was driving on the left side of the road: all of us finding it difficult to habituate at first (more on that in a later post).

Grahamstown

The first leg of our journey took us From Cape Town to Grahamstown. As we hugged the Eastern Cape, we passed the Little Karoo mountains to the north and the Atlantic Ocean to the south. We traversed the renowned Garden Route and the surfing mecca known as the Sunshine Coast. Due to our schedule we could not stop in any of these beautiful regions, only admiring the scenery from our vehicle.

We arrived in Grahamstown in the evening and although it was not wet, it was bloody cold. We stayed at the Old Goal Backpackers, which was an active prison until 1978. In fact, we had to cross a courtyard where executions were carried out, in order to reach our room, a former cell.

The night was spent running around with the Chris' shouting Scooby Doo quotes and other ghost-related shenanigans.

Port St Johns

The next leg took us through the Wild Coast to the cliff side town of Port St Johns. We stayed at the jungle monkey backpackers: an ultra-laid back, Rasta-run, seaside hostel situated on a hill overlooking the Indian Ocean. This hostel was bliss, we easily could have stayed there for a week, but alas, the Azzurri awaited, we had to continue.

St Lucia

We had originally planned on going through the Drankensberg Mountains, but we were advised by a South African travel agent who suggested we divert to St Lucia, a UNESCO world heritage site.

Our evening was spent partying with far too many Canadians and the following morning was spent taking a river cruise, admiring lounging hippos and lurking crocodiles.



Immediately from there, we continued north through the land-locked nation of Swaziland, to finally reach our final destination: Kruger National Park.

Cape Town Part Deux

June 12-14

After another 21 hour bus ride, we finally arrived back in Cape Town. This time we stayed in a seaside hostel in the suburban area of Muizenberg.

Upon our arrival, we were greeted by Chris Ong Tone, Dan and Dora; along with cloudy skies and cold, rainy weather.

Our first afternoon was rather uneventful, but the evening was another story. We made our way to the Cape Town Fanfest: an event organized by FIFA to allow those who don't have tickets to still enjoy the atmosphere of the World Cup.

With the boisterous crowds dancing, the vuvuzelas blaring and every country coming together, the atmosphere can't be beat.

We capped our evening with some plastic cup soccer and some animated drinking games (fives and the beerfest game) at neighbourhood lounge.

The following day it was too cloudy to go to Cape point and Cape of Good Hope, so we decided to climb Table Mountain instead. The climb took 2.5 hours and was actually more challenging than I had anticipated. A warm up for Kilimanjaro? Probably not.

I would like to say that the views were stunning, but visibility was so poor you could only see 10 feet in front of you.

Rather than taking the vernacular down to the foot of the mountain, Chris M. and I decided to descend on foot. The cloud line we had passed on the way up was much lower than we had remembered. Around halfway down, the skies opened up and it started to rain. Actually, it poured. Wearing our only warm clothing, we were now completely soaked.

To add insult to injury, I crushed my ankle after slipping on some wet rocks. Needless to say, but we really should have paid the 10 dollars Canadian it would have cost us to take the vernacular down (My ankle is fine now though).

On our last day in Cape Town we were once again confronted by poor weather and had to face the reality that we were not going to visit Cape Point. Instead we settled for the best seafood I have ever had at the Brass Bell restaurant.

That same night we went to see the defending World Cup champions Italy, or the Azzurri as they are affectionately known, face Paraguay. To be honest, neither team showed much ambition and with the rain and the cold, the fans were relatively reserved. The match itself ended anticlimactically in a draw of 1-1.

Unfortunately, I have to say that our second visit to Cape Town also ended anticlimactically, with some of our plans and nights out being cancelled due to the terrible weather.

Sossusvlei

June 8th-10th

We had joined a tour that was headed to the remote area of Namib- Naukluft National park. Due to its remote location, an unguided tour would have been impossible.

Along the hundreds of kilometers of dirt roads, we bounced along in our 4x4, passing some of the most desolate and sparsely populated areas I have ever seen.

We spent the trek with new friends: Hans, the tall Dutchman; Sven, the red-lipped German; Dan, the witty Englishman; Teddy, the only female and a gaggle of Asians.

We all passed 2 nights beneath the most spectacular night's sky I have ever witnessed. The day

was mostly dedicated to travelling to and from what we had come to see: the red dunes of Sossusvlei.

We had even climbed the 1000-foot Dune 45 at 6:00 am in the morning to watch the sun rise and illuminate the desert. It was amazing to see the dunes change colour as the sun rose in the sky. We walked over peaks where our presence would be erased in an instant by the ever-present winds.

We walked 5km through the dunes and among trees that have been dead for hundreds of years, in an area called Deadvlei.

The scorching-hot days and the near-freezing nights were more than worth the immaculate landscapes that nature had allowed us to witness.

We finished our tour of Namibia with dinner at Joe's Beerhaus in Windhoek, surrounded by new friends and a new perspective on a country we had known so little about.

Swakopmund Seas, Skies and Dunes

June 6th-7th

We had taken a local minibus from Windhoek to Swakopmund, known to many as the extreme sports capital of Namibia and possibly southern Africa.

We checked into the Desert Sky Hostel and made our way to the extreme sports booking centre, knowing full well that it closed at 2:00. We tried our luck at 2:15.

Fortunately, they made an exception for us and we were on our way to see the heavens first hand: we had signed up to skydive!

Registration to reflecting on what we just did, took but 2 short hours. However, the experience will surely last a lifetime.

As the small propeller plane ascended, so did my anxiety. We climbed higher and higher, the ground beneath us becoming more distant and more surreal.

To look out of the plane and see the world's oldest desert (the Namib). with its flowing dunes and the mighty Atlantic ocean, dancing at the edge of Africa, is a sight like no other.

As we leveled off at 10,000 feet and our instructors assured us we were not going to die, we sat at the edge of the open door. Chris left first and then I was soon to follow. I assumed the skydiving position at the edge of the door and all the fear I had, seemed to disappear.

As we left the plane, time seemed to stop. I didn't scream because it was not necessary. I remained silent and thought about how fortunate I am.

As the chute deployed and I was shot back into the air, the instructor described the flight of an eagle. As we floated back to earth, back to whatever surreal reality I am living, I understood why he said it. Everything just made sense.

We celebrated that night at the Swakop Lodge and met some local Namibians (Jason, Alex and Constancia), who were willing to celebrate with us.

The following morning, we were picked up and driven to the dunes of the Namib desert. Our legs were our chairlift, the dunes our slopes, we tried our luck at sandboarding.

Hardly as easy as it looks. As I write this, sand is falling falling out of my nose and onto the keyboard. No desert challenge comes without its rewards.

When you float over something as old as time itself, approaching speeds in excess of 70 km per hour, there is no better feeling... except for maybe skydiving. I apologize, I know I'm spoiled.

Ghosts, Women and Chicken

On June 5th, we had contacted a local Namibian through Couchsurfing. Her name was Marita, and although she could not host us, she still invited us to go on a picnic with her and her friends.

We went to a place known as the Ghosthouse, a place feared by local children, but to be honest it was actually quite nice during the day. Among smashed walls, broken glass and rubble was a beautiful desert landscape and some very nice people.

Everyone had brought organic goodies that would impress any pallet, vegetarian or not. Around our circle, sitting on blankets that softened the rocks and shards of glass beneath us, were people from all over the world. There were several Namibians and South Africans, a New Zealander named Pete and a Lithuanian named Tango.

We feasted and discussed life, travel and other commonalities. We took pictures and admired how the sun danced off the Ghosthouse.

As dusk approached, we watched the sun fade and the stars which had taken its place. After the sunset , we pulled away in separate cars but with a common satisfaction.

Chris and I, with our Lithuanian and kiwi friends were invited for a Braai, or Afrikaner barbeque. Our gracious hosts grilled the steaks and sausages we had bought at the butchery.
We sipped wine and cheap scotch and debated about who drives on the correct side of the road. We discussed differences in our lifestyles and talked about the similiarities that permeated through all our cultures.

We told jokes and funny stories, but none of which got more laughs than a popular lithuanian expression:

"We handle our chicken and women the same way. With our hands"
- Tango, 2010

I can assure you, it sounds much better in Lithuanian.

Ignorance Is Not Bliss

As I sat on the 20 hour bus ride between South Africa and Namibia, I gazed out the window. I admired the lush landscapes, the jagged mountains that seemed to pierce the clouds. I marveled at the large array of vegetation, fruits and flowers that painted the countryside. Each blink like a still photograph etched in my mind.

I watched the fertile land gradually become arid, the jagged peaks rounding as we headed north. I listened to Namibian adolescents discuss life, wealth and God. What I thought would be a long and arduous, almost torturous experience actually turned out to be great.

The journey also gave me time to reflect. I have come to this place, this continent; to explore, to learn and to share. Although I find myself humbled and almost guilty by how little I know know about the African people.

It's sad that I did not even know the language the black South Africans are speaking, nor how to say thank you or please in any indigenous language. What saddens me even more is how little I know about the Apartheid, which WAS going on during my lifetime!

On June 3rd, Chris and I visited Robben Island. We saw the cells where Nelson Mandela and other political prisoners were held. Our tour was even guided by a former political prisoner who was held at the prison for 8 years.

We were taught about the racial segregation and how even in prison, blacks were treated worse than other inmates: receiving less food and rights.

Now the floodgates have been opened and now I will make more of an effort to learn about this terrible time in history. Unlike the flocks of tourists that are coming for the world cup: those who are only here to party, consume and celebrate. I too, would like to partake in this, but I would also like to understand and recognize the struggles that the Black South Africans have had to endure in order to become this rainbow nation, to host this global event.

For me, ignorance is not bliss.

White Sharks, the shakes and projectile vomit

It would be nice to report that my voyage to South Africa was uneventful, but unfortunately since it is me we are talking about, this was not the case.
Around 7 hours before I was prepared to wake up to start my voyage, I conveniently came down with the stomach flu: yes, firing out of both ends, painting my parent's bathroom wall with "the exorcist" like accuracy (and if my parent's are reading this, I really did try my best to clean the walls!)
Needless to say, I did not get any sleep that night, but my stomach seemed to calm down a little or at least for the time being.
On our flight between Montreal and Washington, things were quite uneventful, even quite enjoyable. That was short lived, because in our impromptu stopover in Dakar, Senegal, before continuing on to Jo'burg, my stomach came back with full force and I started with a fever and uncontrollable shakes. It was enough that the guy next to me asked if I needed any medication.

It seemed I had developed Ebola even before entering Africa!

I wrapped myself in blankets and prayed that it would all pass.
After our stopover in Dakar, things quickly improved, thanks to my best friend, Ambien, which allowed me 6 hours of drug-induced sleep. Upon waking up, my fever was gone, my appetite was back and I was able to eat again!
The rest of the way was quite uneventful (luckily), and we were now in Cape Town, South Africa.

Holy Phoque (As in Seal, the only thing in danger from a Great White)

The following morning, we awoke at 5 am to embark on a day trip to Gaansbai, home of The Great White Shark.
The ship's crew started off by chumming, or baiting the sharks with a piece of tuna and a fake rubber seal. Once they had the immense animal near our ship, we got into wetsuits and went into the cage. Even though they are probably 12-15 feet long and you literally needed to move your hands out of the way so that their flippers didn't hit you, it is actually a really calm and non-terrifying experience. It is just amazing to see such an immense and falsely- vilified animal up close and in its natural habitat. We stayed in the cage for around 45 minutes and just marveled at these magnificent beasts. Spielberg, you got them all wrong.



Not a bad way to start off the trip...oh yeah, my health is back to 100%...for now at least...heheheh (I shouldn't laugh).

Tah Tah

Underwater pics courtesy of Chris Mainella.