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Baby on board
We won ourselves a new friend with a banana and half a sandwich. The Roma Trading Post turned out to be exactly what we needed, a sanctuary. For the next two days we used it as a base whilst we explored on foot and via mini bus the surrounding area including small villages and local markets, our favourites, but also Maseru, the capital of Lesotho only 30km away, the National University, ancient bushman rock paintings, and among other things, dinosaur footprints. As was becoming the norm in Lesotho our adventures often yielded their own small, but very random and distinct chapters. After another colossal and comfortable sleep courtesy of "The Long Way Round Lads´" mattresses, we commandeered Thiddy (that´s P Thiddy to you and I,) a local employee of the TP to guide us on the short hike to the nearby dinosaur footprints. P Thiddy had excellent English and told us along the way of his dream to one day run his own tourist guiding company. I dont know what I expected, and the footprints were definately there, but they were somewhat overshadowed by the spectacular views of the dusty and rocky, Arizona desert like valley below us. Via the TP, where P Thiddy found some more whities to take to the prints, we
Footprints in the rock
The footprints were slowly being washed away by tourists splashing water on them to gloss them for the cameras. ventured into the town of Roma where we checked out the grounds of possibly Lesothos most important place, the National University. We were able to talk to heaps of students who were all keen to tell us of their studies and ambitions for the future and indeed the future of Lesotho. The friendly students were also able to give us directions on where to get mini buses to the near by Ha Barona rock paintings and although we followed their directions and those of the Lonely Planet, we still managed to end up in the middle of no where. After several attempts we managed to find someone who could speak English and give us further directions to the paintings which although apparently only a few kilometres away took locals an hour to walk to and whities two hours! Our new friend, who was sporting a brand new and very shiny Manchester Utd top drew us a map in the dust beside the road with his toe using the Police station and a farm centre as reference points before sending us on our way. When we thanked him and asked his name he introduced himself as David Beckham! I´m sorry but
On the road to Ha Baroano
As we always do, we picked up a hitch hiker! I had to do it and inform Becks that his namesake no longer played for Man U. I now wish I didn´t as I can still hear his heart breaking. After a good bit of thought he then informed us that we should call him Man U from now on and told us that we should get going. It did indeed take us two hours and after we payed a little old lady R1 each to guide us down the short path to the caves and river where the paintings were, we decided that we were glad it was only R1 and not the exhorbitant prices being asked by some other, unoffical tour guides. There was no doubting the paintings were there, but they certainly weren´t as fantastic as they were made out to be. Oh well, all we had to do now was walk the 2 hours back to Man U and find the first of two mini buses to take us back to the TP. Our plan for the next day was to get ourselves to a place called Semonkong to visit a 122m waterfall and maybe catch up with Morgan before coming back to the TP in
Daily Life in Lesotho
Africans can smell a camera from a mile away and immediately begin posing! the same day. Thankfully we took the advice of the locals who told us that although Sem was only 90km away, the roads were terrible and there was no way we would make it there and back in a day.We confirmed this with the owners of the TP who said if we could wait for a day they would be happy to give us a lift the next morning as they were going there for business. This gave us a chance to visit Maseru and not have to worry about our packs and valuables which makes it so much easier to explore the streets and markets. We had a great day and always enjoy visiting places that most tourists by pass, but agreed we had made the right choice in not staying there. As always we packed a picnic lunch and found ourselves a nice little park in the centre of town to eat our fruit and sambos. Ofcourse it very quickly became a zoo with us being the animals on display! After about ten minutes of blatantly staring at us from only a metre or so a big mama council worker of a lady informed us that we were
Wagging school
This little fella thought we were much more interesting than a day at school. not allowed to sit here and eat as it was not a park, but in fact a cemetary. At the back of the park was a large tombstone which we later found out was some kind of war memorial, but there were atleast a half dozen tables and chairs scattered thru the park. We asked why we couldnt use the tables and chairs provided but she just said they were for show, but didnt know why. We told her that until she could come up with a better reason for us to move, and also that if the two police people who had joined the gallery didn't feel the need to move us along we weren't going anywhere. For the next fifteen minutes her and her big mama council worker cohorts sat on our table glaring at us whilst we casually and very, very slowly ate our lunch! When we decided to leave we said how lovely it was to talk to her and that the roses in the garden she was tending were all dead and that when we came back next time for a picnic could she make sure they were in bloom! Smart arse whiteboy I know,
Rock art wall
The wall canvas was much more interesting than the art! but it did feel rather good! We told the people at the TP this who agreed that it was a load of malarky, before telling us our lift would be leaving at 6am sharp the next morning and there would be no African time involved! We hastily packed up, put on all our clothes in preparation for another night of minus three degrees, spent a quarter of a second admiring the amazing night sky and bid the TP good night.
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