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Published: March 25th 2006
ADVANCE WARNING- THERE ARE NO PHOTOS ON THIS UPDATE AS THE DISC WOULDN'T WORK IN THE COMPUTER I AM USING. SORRY. NOW READ ON (IF YOU CAN BE BOTHERED)...
We are no longer in Australia. The observant amongst you (or those who know our itinerary) will see that this update is brought to you from the southern part of the African continent. Yes, we are now in South Africa, over half way in to our journey from Cape Town to Joburgand about three weeks away from flying back to London. But let's not dwell on such maudlin thoughts.
We made it to Monkey Mia. And we saw plenty of dolphins. The set up there is a bit of a circus, but still, seeing the dolphins in such close proximity was worth it. Mia also had the good fortune of being chosen to feed one of them, which was quite appropriate, really. Jake was also given the option to feed, but decided against it for reasons he was unwilling to divulge. Aside from the dolphins, there isn't a great deal in Monkey Mia- apart from flies. Did I mention previously that the flies in Kalbarri were bad? They've got nothing on their Monkey Mian cousins. I seemed to be more affected than the others- though let's not read too much into that now- but the flies were on you in their hundreds. And not just buzzing round you in a vaguely irritating manner; no, these were in your nose, mouth, eyes, ears...the only respite was to sit in a closed camper van (which got too hot) or at the bottom of the swimming pool (which introduced an alternate issue centred round breathing). It was also exceedingly hot, so taking all things in to account, and despite the dolphins, we only stayed a couple of nights before making our way back to Perth.
That took a few days, of fairly uneventful travelling. Brief highlights: stopping in Horrocks for a night, which had the look and feel of somewhere where the inhabitants are a bit too closely related; feeding a sea-lion in Jurien Bay (where I also told Mia that she looked very pretty, and she giggled and turned to Claire, whispering "I think daddy's falling in love with me!"); paying a visit to Fremantle Prison; and an afternoon on Cottesloe Beach where Mia, after trying to play with another girl, gave up because she didn't "speak the language". Not that this has been a problem before or since, but there you go. And that was that for Oz. Next stop Africa.
We arrived in Cape Town, exhausted after over 12 hours of flying and a 6 hour time difference, to be met at the airport by Roger. Roger was from Manchester and the manager of the B&B we had booked. The place looked ideal on the web- unfortunately, it wasn't quite as it appeared. What awaited us was something reminiscent of a DSS bedsit in Peckham and Roger proved to be one of the most gracelss, uncharismatic people we have ever had the misfortune to meet. Alarm bells started ringing at the airport, where Roger was waiting for us in an old Man City top, waist-high slacks and bright blue moccassins. They rang a little louder during the drive to the B&B as Roger, by means of conversation, told me how he couldn't go back to England because his first wife would take half of everything- and as she was from Eastern Europe, and had arrived with nothing, she deserved nothing. And the bells were screaching when, on opening the door to our room, he tried to stamp on a cockroach and left it lying in the middle of the floor. Later, I saw it scuttle under a cupboard. There was also a horrible yappy little dog that kept trying to get into the room. We decided there and then that we'd leave the next day(having provisionally booked for a week).
As we were going out to breakfast the following morning (the first B had been bad enough-we were in no mood to try the second), Roger was shuffling towards us, in the same get up as the previous day, carrying a tray with tupperware containers with teabags, milk and some sugar.
"I've brought you some tea," he said. We declined and told him we were checking out. He seemed genuinely shocked.
"Why? What's wrong with it?"
We tried to be tactful, but Roger got very indignant, pointing out (repeatedly) that he charged much less for an airport pick up than anywhere else, and we wouldn't find anywhere cheaper to stay- which wasn't really the point. We also told him that if we hadknown he had a dog, we wouldn't have booked it, as the kids are scared of dogs (which is true).
"But she," he said, pointing at Mia, "Told me in the car that she liked dogs."
She? He had barely acknowledged the kids before, but was now pointing at Mia, arguing with us about something he knows nothing about? Without getting too graphic, we told Roger exactly what we thought of his guesthouse. And him. As we left, he was still bleating on about how much Mia liked dogs. Now, she may have said it to him. But she was lying.
We found somewhere better nearby, and the rest of our stay was fine. Cape Town is a beautiful city, with Table Mountain towering over it wherever you are, imposing and majestic. We took a trip up the mountain in a cable car. There were stunning views, right down the Peninsula as far as Simon's Town and (almost) Cape Point.
We also visited Robben Island, which was a worthy, if heavy, excursion. The best aspect of the tours is that the guide is an ex-political prisoner, so one gets a dramatic insight in to the place. Our guide was funny, articulate, open and honest and remarkably free of anger or malice.
Another day was spent on Fourth Beach at Clifton. This is the beach where all the beautiful people go (apparently). So we fitted right in....It's a glorious beach- a long stretch of golden sand, framed by the hills of the Cape Peninsual National Park. The sea, however, is freezing. The Atlantic here is the second coldest stretch of sea in the world (possibly), thanks to the Benguela Current sweeping straight up from Antartica. It's the kind of cold where you get in (eventually), try and swim about, get out and don't feel your feet for the next hour or so. But Claire and I braved it. Mia and Jake didn't thought, the wusses.
After taking delivery of our car, we took in the Cape of Good Hope (the most south-westerly part of Africa) and Cape Point- the unofficial meeting place of the Atlantic and Indian Oceans. Unofficial because the official spot is at Cape Agulhas, further round the coast. Though who decides such things is unclear. The area is also home to a wide range of animals, including chacma baboons which wander around trying to look hard, and unique flora, found nowhere else on earth.
Having heard rave reports, we headed to the Winelands next. Stellenbosch, to be exact. Sadly, having no interest in wine, and finding it to be rather expensive, we didn't stay too long. However, whilst there, we did experience at first hand the siege mentality many of the whites seem to live with in the "new" South Africa. Stellenbosch is a wealthy place, and is about as threatening, in daylight, in the centre of town, as Woking. However, in this very situation, as Claire and I walked along, and elderly-ish lady stopped us and asked if those were our children (pointing behind us at Mia and Jake). When we said yes, she became borderline hysterical- "You mustn't let them walk behind you! The crime! The crime!" Admittedly, Mia and Jake were a little behind us, as they sometimes are, without a lead. But we knew precisely where they were and how safe or otherwise the scenario was. We do have some sense of responsibility and are not utterly naive. Naturally, Claire got a little irritated and told the woman off, using some words not fit for publication. The lady, chastised, scurried off to hide behind her electric fence and imagine all the horrible crimes being carried out. By blacks.
We have come across this attitude a number of times. And it is very sad. Perhaps crime is bad, but it is only now that whites are being affected by it that it seems to be SO bad. The country is a stark mix of first and third world, delineated on very clear lines of colour, despite the end of apartheid. Changing things will take a long time, and will be tough. But I hope the country manages it, however long it takes.
Before driving the renowned Garden Route, we detoured to Oudtshoorn, a town in the Klein Karoo famous for ostriches. When ostrich feathers were all the rage in Europe and the US in the 1920s, Oudtshoorn became exceedingly wealthy. Whilst the clamour has died down somewhat, there are remnants of the wealth, evident in the many of hte buildings. It is a pleasant town, albeit extremely hot. We visited the Cango Caves, which were okay, but the guide was excellent and treated us to the "click" song- a song in Xhosa which makes use of the variety of "clicks" in the language, and which doesn't really work in translation. He also played the drums on some hollow stalactites (or was it stalagmites?).
Oudtshoorn is also home to the Cango Wildlife Ranch, where Mia and I survived a close encounter with a huge Burmese python and saw cheetahs being rehabilitated as part of the cheetah rehabilitation programme. Interesting fact no. 43: cheetahs cannot roar. But they can make a funny croaking sound. Mia and Jake also rode camels, although I had to go with Jake as he was too young to go by himself. He was a bit reluctant at first, but soon warmed to it and by the end was declaring camels his favourite animals ever.
The Garden Route was...well, nice. Like a garden. We stopped at Wilderness, which may have once been so, but isn't really now. However, whilst walking on the beach, we did see dolphins frolicking in the surf, which was great to watch. As they lept out of the sea and dived through the waves, it made the dolphins at Monkey Mia seem lazy and overfed. Which, funnily enough, they are. Still. All dolphins are fine by me. Unfortunately, Jake got stung across the hand by a bluebottle at the very same beach. Poor thing was hysterical (Jake, not the bluebottle) until we managed to get some vinegar on it. It was all forgotten the following day, when we went on the Outeniqua Choo-Tjoe (sic), a steam train which winds it's way along the coast to Knysna and back. Rather slowly. Enjoyable enough, though, if a bit dull.
One of the reasons people visit South Africa is to see wild animals and so, partly to fulfil this requirement, and also because we wanted to, we went to the Addo Elephant Park. The park has one of (if not the) largest populations of wild elephants in the world, and as we drove round we saw loads of them- at very close quarters, on a couple of occassions. Which made us wonder what we would do if one of them decided to walk
across the car rather than around it. No answer was particularly satisfactory, but as I am writing this, you can rest assured we never had to find out for sure. We also saw warthogs, zebras, ostriches, red hartebeest and the elephant dung beetle which eats poo. Elephant poo, specifically. Well, someone has to.
On our way out of Addo (the village), we popped in to the Addo Croc and Lion Park. It's a bizarre place- a bit like a zoo, but with only tigers, lions and crocodiles. It had gone to seed quite dramatically and you felt that, if they could really be bothered, one of the big cats could escape quite easily. Whilst there, we witnessed feeding time. This involved huge chunks of meat being slung into the various enclosures. As the tigers were munching away, Claire noticed a lioness from the neighbouring enclosure had got through a small hole and was creeping up on one of the tigers, with the express intention of taking his lunch. When the tiger noticed, he reared up, giving the lioness an almighty swipe. The lioness, being smaller and weaker, was unable to escape. I asked one member of staff (as they ran around, freaking out) if the lioness would be okay.
"No," he replied bluntly, "The tiger will kill her and eat her." We took that as our cue to leave.
Heading back along the coast, we drove through Transkei. This, under apartheid, was a homeland - a semi-independent region for the Xhosa people (or, another way of looking at it, a dumping ground). As such, it felt far more African than any part we had previously been to. The drive was glorious; rolling green hills, dotted with traditional mud huts and goat herds throwing stones at wayward flock on the roadside. Here, as well as avoiding the potholes, I had to swerve to avoid goats and cows that wandered aimlessly across the road. The coastline is wild and untouched. We stopped at Cintsa and Port St. John's, bith with beautiful long stretches of beach, pummelled by the huge waves rolling in from the ocean. Absolutely stunning.
Claire was desperate to visit Ramsgate- a coastal town, but there the similarity with it's English namesake end. Nice beach, and we got tumbled by the waves a few times. Having spent so much time on the coast, we decided to once again head inland, and so went to the Drakensberg Mountains for a few days. Rumour has it they are spectacular, but we couldn't tell thanks to the constant cloud and incessant rain. Still, we ventured out for a walk which was good exercise if nothing else. Jake fell over four times, which left him covered in mud as well as soaked to the bone, so the enjoyment of the scenery wasn't quite there for him. The promise of sweets at the end went a considerable way to ensuring both Mia and Jake didn't moan too much- even when we took a wrong turn and added an extra hour to the walk. I did have to carry Jake on my shoulders towards the end, but both kids did extremely well in the wet and muddy conditions, and as a reward, we let them have some dinner that night. We also took a walk, the following day, to Giant's Castle which we were disappointed to discover is not a literal name. It wasn't raining, and this, coupled with the glorious scenery, added up to a better walk all round. We visited the caves there which house some fine examples of San Rock Art. Some dating back as far as 3000 years.
Now, we are in Umhlanga, a resort area just north of Durban. Seems nice enough, we have a week here before heading up into Zululand for the last couple of weeks. If I can sort it out, I will add some photos. Please accept my heartfelt apologies- I know how dull these things are without pictures to spice them up....
Incidentally, the car we hired- a Ford Focus- has inspired Mia and Jake to compose the Ford Focus Song. In essence, it goes something like:
"Ford Focus song.
Ford Focus song.
Ford Focus song.
Ford Focus song."
Repeat tunelessly for at least 10 minutes. Destined to be a classic.
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Mum/Sylvia/Manmar
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Another good long blog - thanks Matt. The kids' behaviour (including the fascinating song) sounds par for the course - or course. Sounds as if you'v ebeen exploring the land of your father pretty well. We're looking forward to April 16th now.....