How I let this one slip by I don't know, but our flight to Amsterdam was at 5am which meant we had to leave at 3 am. Despite efforts to change it to a more reasonable hour, it actually turned out to be a great opportunity to spend the day visiting a place we'd never been to before.
We arrived at 7:30 am, and at the airport there is a train system right there at the terminal that takes you to the city center in 17 minutes. It was too bloody cold at 4C and too foggy to be wandering around aimlessly so we high tailed it to a corner restaurant for breakfast and to keep warm. From there, (where eggs and bacon came with fries) we watched the Dutch people hustling and bustling the start of their day 99% of them on a bicycle. Whereas everyone in Greece drives either a scooter or motorcycle, here it's strictly one gear pedal bikes. So much so, that next to the train station was a 3 level parking lot strictly full of bikes!
Not dressed for the weather but figuring we can't hide in the restaurant all day, we decided to venture out down the side street as there appeared to be some shops. And shops there were - mostly pertaining to sex and pot paraphanalia . Nothing hidden in these streets - whatever your desire is at your disposal and this wasn't even the reputed Red Light District. Hmm, OK a little early for all this, so after a few curious tourist-like peeks, with camera forever hanging from my neck, we sought further refuge by taking a tour boat ride along the canals that wind throughout the city. Definately somewhat more educational!
It was a beautiful 1.5 hour cruise during which time the fog lifted to reveal a very
European city with narrow 3 story 18th century row housing lining the endless canals. One building was reputed to be the narrowest of all - only 2 meters wide. The interesting thing about these building is that because they're so narrow it makes moving in and out very difficult so what they did to solve the problem is that at the gable of each building there is a beam sticking out with a hoisting cable attached. When you move house, as they call it, the cable is lowered to street level where crates can then be hooked on and hoisted up through the picture window each flat has. One thing that really appealed to us was that not only were the streets lined with buildings but so was the canal side with endless lines of float homes and house boats either one level bungalows or one level boats where moorage is no longer available.
Although the sun was shining and it was warming up, our time in Amsterdam was very short-lived, albeit somewhat educational in more ways than one! But alas, we had to hop the train back to the airport to catch that 10 hour flight home, thus marking the finale to our '09 winter escape.
Thanks for dropping in on my travel journal, and if interested, check back to see if I managed to get the pictures uploaded. Each week I had corresponding pictures to post but was unable to get Picassa program to cooperate. But we're home safe and sound now and help is on the way!
Happy Travels
KnR
Friday, April 3, 2009
WEEK 7-8 The Home Stretch
Greece is only 1000ks from Egypt, across the Mediterranean Sea but, much like our experience from going from South Africa to East Africa, you’d swear you were on a different planet. Calm, clean, we don’t stick out like sore thumbs causing locals to stare at us and cars actually stay in their lanes, use turn signals and we only heard one horn honk in the first 30 minutes. Those were the immediate things we noticed upon arrival in Athens aside from the fact that the jeans we haven’t worn in 7 weeks are tighter (so much for the African deprivation diet) and that our tan is going to fade real fast due to the fact that it’s unseasonably cold with intermittent rain showers. Call it preparation for the return to Vancouver weather I guess.
Athens is nestled in a basin surrounded by mountains, has a population of 4 million and thanks to the 2004 Olympics, transformed itself from a chaotic concrete metropolis to organized chaos, whose renaissance included a new airport, metro, more open green spaces, urban renewal of run down areas, and apparently is barely recognizable since cars were banished from the historic center creating Europe’s longest pedestrian promenade through an archaeological park. Happily, the hotel we stayed at the day we arrived was right in the tourist magnet area called ‘The Plaka’, Athens’ stone paved old quarter right below the Acropolis that is full of taverns, café’s, traditional stores mixed with modern boutiques and many significant monuments. As nice as it may appear, they’re still behind the times environmentally speaking, there’s no such thing a non smoker, everyone smokes regardless the activity or location. But apparently in Sept 2010 they will be joining the rest of Europe in a public ban, which will undoubtedly wreak havoc on their temperaments and lifestyle.
One thing that really stands out when strolling the streets is the abundance of stray cats and dogs. No animal control for these furry friends, they are technically homeless, but are fed in the streets by the residents of the neighbourhood they roam. Friendly as any well behaved pet, but they too underwent a transformation for the 04 Olympics. Fearing the tourists may be intimidated by the males’ natural tendency to show aggression at times, what the city did during the games was round up all the stray dogs, about 150,000, sterilized them and let them loose afterwards. And they are everywhere, outside restaurants, in squares, walking down a city street, even up at the Acropolis and other historical sites. After a scratch and a pat you’d swear they were going to follow you home, but once at the edge of their territory they stop and turn around.
Thankfully, for the last time we found ourselves back on a tour bus with a dozen others (luxury version this time) to spend 4 days on a 600kms mini tour of Greece. It was amazingly beautiful scenery with topography that reminded us very much of the West Coast with its 400 islands and snow capped mountainous ranges. To the far west coast over the Corinth canal onto the Peloponnese Peninsula, we saw the ancient Theatre of Epidauros that was built into a hillside at the end of the 4th century BC and is still used for special events because of its remarkable acoustics. But, having just spent 10 days touring the temples and ruins of Egypt that were also influenced by both Greeks and Romans, Roy and I had become quite adept at identifying individual construction styles and found ourselves totally disinterested in seeing yet another monument or historical site. However, the trip to Olympia and visit to the birth place of the Olympic Games, really perked our waning interest. Yeah, familiar construction styles we’d already seen in Egypt, but the sheer size of the venue, the skeletal remains of the athlete buildings, the sanctuary of Olympian Zeus, the still standing archway leading to the stadium’s dirt playing field where we laid on the grassy hillside speckled with poppies, the very same place thousands of ancient Greeks stood watching the games below. It really had us stop and imagine what it would have been like during those times.
To the northeast over the Corinthian Gulf back onto the mainland we drove 200 ks to yet another amazing place, Meteora. Wow, among striking scenery, perched on top of monolithic rocks which seem to be suspended in mid-air, stand ageless Monasteries one of which was where the Bond movie-For Your Eyes Only, was filmed. The terrain through the north is very mountainous with valleys of sage colored olive tree plantations - 2 million trees, 49 varieties that live 400 years.
Heading back south to the Corinthian Gulf is Delphi, a really quaint two street hillside town that overlooks the gulf. The ancient Greeks regarded Delphi as the ‘navel’ of the world because that is where two eagles met, after being released by Zeus at opposite ends of the earth. The spot is marked with cone-head type half dome and is near the Sanctuary of Apollo, where 4th century BC pilgrams once came seeking the wisdom of Apollo’s oracle, thought to be the mouthpiece of the god.
Back in Athens, the next 6 days were on our time. Thankfully no more tours!! The condo we rented wasn’t quite how it was depicted when I booked it online, but it was in a quiet area with all the amenities, bus, metro and within walking distance to the Acropolis and other sights. Our walk up to the Acropolis and Parthenon was really anticlimactic, partially due to our lack of enthusiasm and the fact that the antiquities are shrouded in scaffolds because of ongoing restoration. But the panoramic views of the city were awesome, with all the white washed buildings no higher than 10 stories, retail on street level and residential above.
One beautiful, warm and sunny day we decided to try out the metro system to go to the port city of Piraeus in the southwest, which is basically extension of Athens. From our condo it would have required two metro transfers to get to the right line and fearing we might get lost in transit, we decided to walk the half hour to catch it down line instead. Athens is not built on a grid system and although street names are marked in both Greek and English letters it’s quite easy to get twisted around, but with trusty map in hand, winding up and down and around the streets we finally found the station only to see a sign posted that it was shut down for repairs. Deciding to go by bus instead, from there it was quite the ordeal and a comedy of errors to find the right bus since we didn’t have a route schedule and very few people speak English. But, between another 40 minute walk to the bus stop, sitting for ½ hour and letting two #40 buses pass by because the sign showed it was going to Athens from Piraeus not the other way around, then getting on the third bus after confirming it was going to Piraeus even though the sign said otherwise, then only to get off two stops later because Roy left his jacket behind, run back to the bus stop (the jacket was still there), wait another 15 minutes for the fourth #40 bus, only then where we finally on our way to Piraeus.
But, not knowing where to get off we kinda over shot the main drag and had to hike back to where Roy thought he saw some action. And action there was, an entire street transformed into a Saturday open market where you could buy anything from undies to house wares to fresh fish and produce. Weaving through the hoards of people we head towards the water and find a restaurant for a much needed food and beverage break considering we should have been there for lunch and it was now 3:30. Ordering food and getting what you want has generally been hit or miss because of the lack of English. And one thing we discovered is the lack of anything other than Greek food restaurants. Aside from Pizza Hut or KFC, its only Greek served with dreaded French fries yet again. Definitely a global staple we discovered. Our last night we decided to try something different and went to look for an Indian restaurant recommended in a guide book, but after 2 hours of wandering in a less than desirable area to no avail, Greek it was once again!
All in all our time in Greece was really nice and very low key, a great way to unwind and prepare for the return to the rat race after 8 weeks. Definitely a place we’d love to go back to – we figure fall is the best time, not so hot and the hoards of summer tourists will be gone as well. Besides, there are 400 islands out there waiting to be explored and perhaps a business oppportunity of selling nictotine patches to the masses!
Next stop: 9 hours in Amsterdam
Athens is nestled in a basin surrounded by mountains, has a population of 4 million and thanks to the 2004 Olympics, transformed itself from a chaotic concrete metropolis to organized chaos, whose renaissance included a new airport, metro, more open green spaces, urban renewal of run down areas, and apparently is barely recognizable since cars were banished from the historic center creating Europe’s longest pedestrian promenade through an archaeological park. Happily, the hotel we stayed at the day we arrived was right in the tourist magnet area called ‘The Plaka’, Athens’ stone paved old quarter right below the Acropolis that is full of taverns, café’s, traditional stores mixed with modern boutiques and many significant monuments. As nice as it may appear, they’re still behind the times environmentally speaking, there’s no such thing a non smoker, everyone smokes regardless the activity or location. But apparently in Sept 2010 they will be joining the rest of Europe in a public ban, which will undoubtedly wreak havoc on their temperaments and lifestyle.
One thing that really stands out when strolling the streets is the abundance of stray cats and dogs. No animal control for these furry friends, they are technically homeless, but are fed in the streets by the residents of the neighbourhood they roam. Friendly as any well behaved pet, but they too underwent a transformation for the 04 Olympics. Fearing the tourists may be intimidated by the males’ natural tendency to show aggression at times, what the city did during the games was round up all the stray dogs, about 150,000, sterilized them and let them loose afterwards. And they are everywhere, outside restaurants, in squares, walking down a city street, even up at the Acropolis and other historical sites. After a scratch and a pat you’d swear they were going to follow you home, but once at the edge of their territory they stop and turn around.
Thankfully, for the last time we found ourselves back on a tour bus with a dozen others (luxury version this time) to spend 4 days on a 600kms mini tour of Greece. It was amazingly beautiful scenery with topography that reminded us very much of the West Coast with its 400 islands and snow capped mountainous ranges. To the far west coast over the Corinth canal onto the Peloponnese Peninsula, we saw the ancient Theatre of Epidauros that was built into a hillside at the end of the 4th century BC and is still used for special events because of its remarkable acoustics. But, having just spent 10 days touring the temples and ruins of Egypt that were also influenced by both Greeks and Romans, Roy and I had become quite adept at identifying individual construction styles and found ourselves totally disinterested in seeing yet another monument or historical site. However, the trip to Olympia and visit to the birth place of the Olympic Games, really perked our waning interest. Yeah, familiar construction styles we’d already seen in Egypt, but the sheer size of the venue, the skeletal remains of the athlete buildings, the sanctuary of Olympian Zeus, the still standing archway leading to the stadium’s dirt playing field where we laid on the grassy hillside speckled with poppies, the very same place thousands of ancient Greeks stood watching the games below. It really had us stop and imagine what it would have been like during those times.
To the northeast over the Corinthian Gulf back onto the mainland we drove 200 ks to yet another amazing place, Meteora. Wow, among striking scenery, perched on top of monolithic rocks which seem to be suspended in mid-air, stand ageless Monasteries one of which was where the Bond movie-For Your Eyes Only, was filmed. The terrain through the north is very mountainous with valleys of sage colored olive tree plantations - 2 million trees, 49 varieties that live 400 years.
Heading back south to the Corinthian Gulf is Delphi, a really quaint two street hillside town that overlooks the gulf. The ancient Greeks regarded Delphi as the ‘navel’ of the world because that is where two eagles met, after being released by Zeus at opposite ends of the earth. The spot is marked with cone-head type half dome and is near the Sanctuary of Apollo, where 4th century BC pilgrams once came seeking the wisdom of Apollo’s oracle, thought to be the mouthpiece of the god.
Back in Athens, the next 6 days were on our time. Thankfully no more tours!! The condo we rented wasn’t quite how it was depicted when I booked it online, but it was in a quiet area with all the amenities, bus, metro and within walking distance to the Acropolis and other sights. Our walk up to the Acropolis and Parthenon was really anticlimactic, partially due to our lack of enthusiasm and the fact that the antiquities are shrouded in scaffolds because of ongoing restoration. But the panoramic views of the city were awesome, with all the white washed buildings no higher than 10 stories, retail on street level and residential above.
One beautiful, warm and sunny day we decided to try out the metro system to go to the port city of Piraeus in the southwest, which is basically extension of Athens. From our condo it would have required two metro transfers to get to the right line and fearing we might get lost in transit, we decided to walk the half hour to catch it down line instead. Athens is not built on a grid system and although street names are marked in both Greek and English letters it’s quite easy to get twisted around, but with trusty map in hand, winding up and down and around the streets we finally found the station only to see a sign posted that it was shut down for repairs. Deciding to go by bus instead, from there it was quite the ordeal and a comedy of errors to find the right bus since we didn’t have a route schedule and very few people speak English. But, between another 40 minute walk to the bus stop, sitting for ½ hour and letting two #40 buses pass by because the sign showed it was going to Athens from Piraeus not the other way around, then getting on the third bus after confirming it was going to Piraeus even though the sign said otherwise, then only to get off two stops later because Roy left his jacket behind, run back to the bus stop (the jacket was still there), wait another 15 minutes for the fourth #40 bus, only then where we finally on our way to Piraeus.
But, not knowing where to get off we kinda over shot the main drag and had to hike back to where Roy thought he saw some action. And action there was, an entire street transformed into a Saturday open market where you could buy anything from undies to house wares to fresh fish and produce. Weaving through the hoards of people we head towards the water and find a restaurant for a much needed food and beverage break considering we should have been there for lunch and it was now 3:30. Ordering food and getting what you want has generally been hit or miss because of the lack of English. And one thing we discovered is the lack of anything other than Greek food restaurants. Aside from Pizza Hut or KFC, its only Greek served with dreaded French fries yet again. Definitely a global staple we discovered. Our last night we decided to try something different and went to look for an Indian restaurant recommended in a guide book, but after 2 hours of wandering in a less than desirable area to no avail, Greek it was once again!
All in all our time in Greece was really nice and very low key, a great way to unwind and prepare for the return to the rat race after 8 weeks. Definitely a place we’d love to go back to – we figure fall is the best time, not so hot and the hoards of summer tourists will be gone as well. Besides, there are 400 islands out there waiting to be explored and perhaps a business oppportunity of selling nictotine patches to the masses!
Next stop: 9 hours in Amsterdam
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Week 6 - 7
We started our journey in South Africa, then up to East Africa, and now we're at the top of the continent in North Africa (via a slight detour to the UAE). Our time in Egypt was a pre arranged tour, so we were met in Cairo airport by a representative who ushered us through all the entrance and customs formalities. Despite all the security police, xray and metal detectors buzzing off, they just wave you through without a second look. Our hotel was in Giza, 30ks from the airport on the west side of the Nile, 7ks past Cairo, and the trip there was a death defying 1.5 hours. Bumper to bumper traffic all crisscrossing and cutting each other off, absolutely no order, no traffic control, cars, trucks, busses with people hanging off picking up and dropping off in the middle of the road, donkeys pulling carts, people young and old with babies all crossing whenever, wherever because there aren't any pedestrian crosswalks nor do they have the right of way.
At night, many vehicles don't even turn on their headlights to "save the battery" and horns are used to indicate your intentions, not turn signals. Needless to say it was also very very noisy amongst all the confusion. At one point I asked our driver, Iman, exactly how many lanes there actually are, he jokingly replied " as many as we like, the lines are just for decoration". Not far from the truth because we also heard from a US expat living here for the past 15 years was that the "white lines were something the British left and the Egyptians don't know what they mean". I also asked Iman what a double flashing light meant, his reply "broken". Well at least they have a sense of humor to help you get through it.
So this was our introduction to Cairo, a city of 22 million (80 million in the country) where cars are dilapidated all honking at the same time. Speeding is rarely an issue because everything is at a crawl pace, but should you get a ticket it can easily be dismissed by giving the cop a tip. We also witnessed a parking enforcement official stop and put one of those wheel lock devices on three cars, as he was finished some guy ran out of a shop, handed him a business card and a few bills and before we knew it all three cars had their locks removed. On top of the road chaos, in some areas garbage is strewn everywhere, apparently by those who choose to not pay the monthly fee for garbage collection. Homes and shops are clean on the inside, they just sweep everything including garbage onto the street in what looks like not having any pride in their city. It may appear on the surface that it is a lawless country, but actually, crime is minimal despite 40% unemployment. Egypt is a poor country and people just accept their way of life, but for foreigners coming from 'orderly' countries it's mind boggling. No such thing a qeueing either, everyone just jostles for position. In the grocery store, I lost my place in line with people butting in and there was an actual tug of war episode that we witnessed when a clerk brought out a case of Pepsi. All of a sudden we heard this yelling, and screaming that we thought was a fight in the middle of the store but was a mob of shoppers practically attacking the clerk, ripping open the box all clamering for their one 5-pack allotment that we guess must have been on sale. They were shoving and pushing, screaming at eachother and pulling cans out of the arms of others. When the case was empty, everyone went back to shopping as calm as could be!
During the few days we had in the Cairo area, driver Iman and guide Rashia, took us on a couple tours. The Egyptian Museum was extremely interesting with over 250,000 exhibits. The entombing and burial process was really fascinating as well as the countless Tut Ankh Amen artifacts found within his tomb. Ancient Egyptians were buried with all their possessions from household items to jewels to chariots because they believed they would need them for when they returned in the afterlife. As far as is known, none have yet to return!
Down the street from our hotel were the famous 5000 yr old Giza Pyramids of Cheops, Chephren and Mykerinos which, oddly enough, really didn't appear that massive at all at 142 meters high. But none the less impressive just by the sheer volume and the work involved in their creation, which apparently took 20 years of working 6 months per year by farmers who were able to leave their crops during certain times. Being claustrophobic, Roy passed up on the chance to enter a tomb so I went on my own. The narrow, one person downhill ramp was only 4 feet high so for 150 steps you walked hunched over. The further I descended the more the air had become stale and humid and I started to feel my dislike of closed-in spaces getting the better of me. The after 150 steps, I reached the bottom where it opened up just enough to stand up and regain composure before having to walk an uphill ramp for about another 150 steps again hunched over, before reaching the tomb opening. The deeper I went the more humid and heavy the air got to the point it crossed my mind to turn around, but at ¾ the way, I was closer to the tomb than the exit so I persevered. Once there, space opened up to a large room with high ceilings that could easily hold 100 people. There was only one other couple in the room sitting on the edge of the empty granite coffin, but after one quick look around I decided to high tail it out of there as the dense humid air and the thought of no windows or escape was starting to take its toll on me. Back downhill hunched over I go, a few second break, then uphill all the way with the air now becoming fresher with every step. By the time I got out I looked as though I had just come out of a steam bath and was never so happy to breathe fresh air and see the light of day.
After a few gimicky photos with over a thousand other tourists all doing the same (we've never seen so many tour buses), Rashia took us to a papyrus paper making art store and another curio shop where naturally, I didn't leave empty handed. It was only later that we were advised not to buy at the locations guides take you to because they get a commission on the sale. Too bad we found this out after we gave her a hefty 'baksheesh' (tip) for spending the day with us. Tipping in general has become a real sore point with us, everywhere you turn everyone expects a 'baksheesh', but we really don't know what amount is appropriate. Especially on prepaid tours, how much to tip the driver and tour guide, who incidentally, is licensed by means of a 4 year program in ancient history of Egypt, Greece and Rome, archeology plus two foreign languages. On a large tour bus everyone chips in a few bucks netting the guide up to as much as $100, but in our circumstance it was just the two of us. Certainly isn't fair to give her $5 considering she spent 8 hours with us, but on the other hand, we shouldn't have to make up for the fact that there aren't others on board. Unfortunately we never did get this sorted out.
We also had the adventure of taking an 8pm sleeper train for the 12 hour trip to the city of Aswan situated on the east bank of the Nile River, 1000ks south of Cairo, to embark upon a 3 day northbound cruise to Luxor. Although our car is posted as being First Class, it isn't VIA or CN quality by any stretch of the imagination, but compared to the regular coach train that looked like a cattle car with broken windows, I guess it was an upgrade of sorts. Unlike Kenya where smoking in public is forbidden, everyone in Egypt smokes wherever they please. No havens for the non smokers what so ever, which I found unbearable at times. The seats and window in our berth looked like they hadn't ever been cleaned, in conjunction with the smell of smoke waffling down the corridor and into our berth, had me wishing I'd brought a mask, disinfectant wipes and a sleeping bag fearing what the bunks would look like. Since there wasn't a dining car, the airline style dinner was served in our berth and afterwards the steward folded down our bunks, which quite surprisingly, were made up with crisp white linen. Wow, at least something appeared clean.
When we arrived in Aswan, we had the day to ourselves while the boat was waiting for other passengers to arrive throughout the day, so we hopped on one of the many tourist 'caliches' (horse and buggy) for an hour tour around Aswan. Whip cracking 22 yr old Thomas and a pregnant Cinderella, skillfully maneuvered us around the streets with kids following us like the Pied Piper, with hands stretched out for money. Until arriving in Egypt we hadn't experienced begging to this extent because in East Africa begging is frowned upon and not to be acknowledged in order to discourage the practice. But here, they sure prey upon the tourists like little vultures. Even at the train station, they grab your bag despite protests then demand a certain amount in payment. In small change we only had the equivalent of $4 and this guy wanted $5 because the one bag he hoisted up onto his shoulders was very heavy. Yes, we agreed, but it's also has wheels which he didn't realize, and since we only have $4 that's all he got for a service we didn't want in the first place! He was not happy at all.
The Nile cruise was quite interesting, with no less than 400 boats going up and down the Nile at one time, each having about 30 – 40 staterooms, dining, bar and pool etc, but certainly not typical cruise ship quality, but quite comfortable and clean, and of course smoky! We spent three nights onboard with several stops for guided tours; Aswan's High Dam, built by the Russians, it took 11 years using profits from Suez canal shipping rights and was completed in 1971; via a small boat we went to the west bank to the Philae Temple of Isis that, because the dam raised the water level by 40 feet, was under water for 9 years before being raised in 1980. Aside from a water line having left its mark, it was nothing compared to the devastation caused by looters, rock scavengers and the defacing of carvings through transition periods of Greek and Roman rulers.
The Nile River is 6,666 ks long, starts its northbound journey from Lake Victoria in central Africa and empties into the Mediterranean Sea. It's quite narrow, only about 1k across in the area we covered, with the bank lushly fringed with date palms, sandy dunes beyond and sporadic settlements and developed towns popping up periodically. Really very very picturesque and quite the tranquil ride. We stopped in Kom Ombo to tour the temple of the same name built in the Ptolemaic period of 4th century BC, that was more of a ruin than anything, due to typical destruction.
Our first night on board we got a chance to meet some of the passengers while sailing to Edfu to dock for the night. We ended up bonding with four women from South Africa, Hans, a German/South African man and a couple from Windsor Ontario with their teenage daughter. First time in our travels that we were actually with people around our own age so social butterfly Roy was in his glory. Next morning everyone took off for another temple tour in Edfu but I stayed behind with a nasty sore throat and the beginnings of a head cold that ended up knocking me out for pretty much the whole day and night. I got up briefly to see us go through the locks and take some pictures but that was about it. Roy was on his own for dinner and the costume dance party that followed, where he and Hans danced the night away with the four women.
We arrived at our last stop in Luxor the next morning and with the head feeling better I joined in on the tour to the Valley of the Kings, the in-mountain tombs of several Ramses. Originally, pyramids were built as the final resting place, but the custom was stopped because not only did it take too long to build but, also the high profile location made them subject to tomb robbers, knowing they were packed with worldly possessions for the afterlife. So, the ancient Egyptians decided to hide their Kings, deep into secret mountain side locations with the entrances covered over to prevent detection. The problem is, that the locations were so secret they didn't leave maps behind hence the continued discovery though at times, purely accidental.
After the tour we said goodbye to our new friends, some of whom were staying onboard continuing up the Nile and others, like us, taking the night train back to Cairo. We weren't leaving until the next night and our package included one night in a hotel with a morning tour of Luxor and the temple of Karnak, the largest in Egypt. The Lotus hotel was supposedly 4 star, but like the First Class train, the Egyptian grading system is way off international standards. Luxor is a lovely city, 2.5 million people, well organized, very clean and with real traffic control to the extent of LED countdown signals. Hotel operations are really archaic though, no one handles cash, not even front reception or the poolside restaurant/bar, you give them a bill and they have to walk over to some obscure office in the depths of the hotel to make change. It takes forever to receive or pay for anything and the level of service is quite substandard.
While waiting for our night train we ventured out into one of the side streets to eat for fear we'd miss the train if we ordered anything at the hotel. All the signs were in Arabic so we had no idea what to expect but we ventured into one place to discover it was more a pool hall/hooka piping hang out that appeared to display a menu, so we asked for something small, like soup and salad. Well the guy ran out the door and returned with a tray full of food, rice, two meat dishes, soup and two salads, enough to feed six. Where he went to get it we have no idea, but we often notice people coming and going down the street with food. Almost like there is a central kitchen somewhere.
Our train ride back to Cairo was uneventful, although we did discover a club car this time only because the sign posted in our berth promoting it wasn't scratched out like the one on the way there. I popped in ever so briefly, wading through the cloud of smoke only long enough to tell Roy I was taking the top bunk this time. Aside from his hooka pipe experiment in Dubai, he's been smoke free for the entire trip, but I thought for sure he'd break down either on the cruise with the girls who smoked like a chimney or in the train club car, but credit to him, he didn't break down. The pressure to smoke is immense, since liquor is taboo amongst the Muslims (80% of the population) accepting an offer to smoke is considered being socially gracious.
Having a day to ourselves we decided to check out a golf course not far from our hotel near the Pyramids. The Mena House Course is Egypt's oldest at 117 years old and was quite cheap relatively speaking but a bit of a cow pasture due to the fact that watering is done by hand and it's about to close down to undergo a complete makeover. During a beer break after the first 9, we sat with an American, Glen, whose been working here for the past 15 years. Although we didn't, most people take a caddy along and when he decided to join us for the back 9, he put his caddy with me. That was quite the treat to have someone coach, fetch balls, carry and pass clubs to me not to mention his undivided attention. What a difference in my game for the extra $15, wish we had that offered at home.
Our last tour with Imen & Rashia was up to Alexandria, 180 ks north of Cairo right on the Mediterranean. It was close to a 3 hour drive along what is called the Desert Route, which was primarily an industrial area now turning commercial with outlet malls and proposed gated golf communities. Alexandria is situated on Qait Bay, is home to 5 million, is the gateway to Europe and was home to Alexander the Great (hence the name), his granddaughter Queen Cleopatra, and her beloved Mark Anthony. We really liked the city and would have loved to have added it as a stopover before heading to Greece, but little did I know at the time of booking it was such a great destination. The Roman Theater was awesome as well as the outdoor museum of artifacts from an underwater ruin accidently discovered in the bay by a scuba diver only 15 years ago. The historical double walled Qaitbay Fort and mosque overlooking the harbor entrance and Alexandria offered a fabulous panoramic view and was a wonderful way to end our sightseeing time in Egypt and a memorable seven weeks in Africa..
Positives: Really different cultures, great weather, very interesting sightseeing, geography, wild kingdom
Negatives: Roads in East Africa, service, in-your-face merchants, food, tipping (even to use a public toilet), locals staring at us all the time like we have 2 heads, garbage
Next and last: Greece
Til then
KnR
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Week 5
So here we find ourselves in Dubai. Located in one of seven regions that make up the United Arab Emirates, Dubai is by the Arabian Sea and, thanks to oil discovery, grew from a population of 59,000 in the 60s, to 1.2 million in 2008, but only 15% are born Emiratis the rest all expats. Built primarily on lease-hold land (fee simple is new), it has no income tax, which is especially attractive to foreigners, and for lower income naturalized citizens housing is free. It adheres to a strict Islamic culture to the point that there are absolutely no alcohol sales, not even in restaurants unless they are situated in a hotel only. Actually, expats (foreign residents) can buy from obscure back alley stores hidden behind warehouses, but they have to show a residency card and it is illegal to bootleg to tourists. So unless you brought your bottle in via Duty Free (which we didn't) you're stuck to hotels starting at $15 for a 5mm shot, beer and wine the same price. Needless to say it was a very dry week, but one night we decided to splurge and eat in a hotel just so that we could enjoy a glass of wine with dinner, and wouldn't you know it, an hour earlier they cut off alcohol sales for 24 hours in observance of Prophet Mohammed's birthday. Back to the juice bar we go.
At this time, Dubai is a city where millionaires are paupers. In my exhaustive research of hotels, I was unable to find anything for under $300 a night but an apartment goes for less than half the price so we took one across the street from the upscale Dubai Marina. The map showed a major road between us, with a cross road that would take us to the marina which is jam packed with hotel residences, skyscraping condos, eateries and shopping. Great we thought, all we'd have to do is walk over to all the action. Wrong! The road between us was a 12 lane freeway and the cross road was a yet to be finished rapid transit pedestrian walkway. To make things worse, the whole area is built around the ring-road one way concept, so for us to simply cross the freeway, was a 13k ride. 3ks to circle our development, 5ks down the freeway to the exit, then 5ks back tracking on the other side. All in a taxi, because that's the only way you get around, that is until rapid transit opens in the fall.
Our time here was pretty tame primarily because we were 25ks out of the city in a new area and Dubai isn't a walking destination so you're at the mercy of taxis unless you're in the old side of the city center. In hindsight, the old side called Diera, would have been the place for us to stay, but once again, following the online advice of other travelers, I avoided that area and went to the new part instead. I had prearranged a few tours, one was the hop-on hop-off city tour bus which we always take when in cities, that had a pick up point at a mall 20ks way. The bus took us all around the city, along swanky Jumeirah Beach home to the famous Burj Al Arab hotel that looks like a sail and the Al Qasr Hotel on a lovely waterway and onto The Palms, the man made development in the shape of a palm that juts out into the Indian Ocean. The main trunk of the palm from the mainland is 4ks long with about 8 rows of 'fronds' on either side. The center of each frond is a street with identical low rise houses on either side, all having ocean frontage. At the top end of the Palm is the mega resort Atlantis, a mind boggling structure in itself that includes an aquarium and a water park.
After being overwhelmed with the opulence and the construction (no less than 20 cranes outside our condo window) we got off the tour bus at the Mall of the Emirates which was a bit closer to the condo at 15ks. That mall deserves a couple of days visit on its own, with the Ski Dubai hill, aquarium, hotel, high end stores and quite excitedly, a food court! So yes, instead of a $100 nothing special meal with no wine, we decided on the food court, which in itself wasn't cheap by our standards – at $30 US. The one and only inexpensive shop I found was one called Le Carrefour, Dubai's spin on Walmart, and it was packed. Need I say where we shopped? But the highlight was when we went to catch the cab home. They've got a very organized taxi system at the mall, drop off at one place only and pick up at another part of the mall. When we got outside, we were in a covered valet roundabout where no less than 100 people were cued in 2 lines with a probably 200 cabs lined up waiting their turn. What was really fascinating though, was that while we were in the line, we watched with amazement the cars coming into the valet area. Rolls Royce, Masserati, Lamborghini, Bentley, Astin Martin and lots of high end SUVs (Infiniti FX & EX35 are really popular btw), with women and men in full Islamic dress jumping out of the drivers seats and passing the keys to the Valet. Hello, these people are going to the mall, not a ball! But we soon discovered that shopping is a major pastime of the oil rich Emiratis. Odd to see women in full dress, most even their face covered going into a clothing store, what could they possibly be buying? Turns out the traditional dress is for public appearances only, at home they become runway models wearing the latest and most expensive fashion. And the reason why all homes have 10 foot concrete walls around them is so that they can't be seen from the street when outside. But for the public appearances, they do love their designer bags (no knock-offs here) which is about all they can display.
Dubai is divided by a 15k creek the newer side called Bur Dubai and the old side Diera. To cross from one side to the other people take Abbras, which a little long boats that operate like bumper cars jockeying for dock space. The Diera side, where I read not to stay, is filled with old world charm, boutique hotels, merchants and open markets called Souks. Unfortunately my experience of shopping in Africa and the UAE isn't pleasant, I have no patience for the haggling and the in your face sales tactics. And forget about window shopping, if your eyes even glance sideways, you're taken as a buyer and not left alone.
But Dubai is suffering from the economical crisis. Tourism is down 35%, construction is almost at a grinding halt, many projects in progress have stopped because the banks aren't financing, even work on the awe inspiring Burj Dubai, the world's tallest building has stopped. It's a shame to see, they've built this mega city and suburbs with stretches of 100 story residential towers as far as the eye can see. But for whom? Many are empty, the rest unfinished, rents are dropping and with projects shutting down, laborers mostly from foreign countries are going back home. Even progress on The World islands has stopped as well as the planned Dubai World to rival Disneyland. At this rate it'll be a ghost town before long.
One evening we did a Desert Safari that included an under the stars buffet dinner and belly dancing out in the middle of the desert. I guess I didn't read the fine print, because what I thought was going to be a nice ride in the desert, was actually a white knuckling, hair raising dunes bashing ride to get to the venue. The 6 passenger 4 x 4 Land Cruiser that picked us up at the condo, went off road and did all the tricks you'd see of a dune buggy. At top speeds we rode along top the crests with barely 4 wheels touching, sometimes sliding down off the top onto the sides to the point I thought for sure we were going to tip, made sharp 90 degree turns diving down into gullies, and then blindly back up to the top where I prayed another vehicle wasn't doing the same on the other side. At one point we got really stuck in a gully and we all have to get out to push. It was good timing because one more turn and I was going to toss my cookies – partially from fear. Unfortunately, that death defying roller coaster ride on the Oregon coast aboard Shimmeron has left me with PTS, and as soon as my body senses a tipping movement, I go into panic mode. When we finally got to the dinner venue, it was all I could do to hold back the tears, that was until Roy asked how I was. Fortunately the return trip was going to be along the flat route taking into consideration we would have just eaten.
It was quite the Arabic spread they laid out within an open corral something out of the Arabian Nights. One corner even had a Hooka Pipe area, where much to my disappointment- Roy indulged himself after being 5 weeks smoke free. Hooka Pipes are common place, many restaurants have them for your use, and in the evening all the patrons are puffing away on the rock hard tobacco. After dinner and the crowd pleasing Belly Dancer, we did indeed take the flat road out of the very very dark desert. I was never so glad to hit the pavement.
Last tour we did was one to the Gulf of Oman on the east coast. We drove through Dubai along the coast through neighbouring city Sharjah where the majority of Dubai's labour force lives, crossed over inland through the Al Hajar Mountains over to Dibba on the east coast, where we stopped for lunch at an ocean side resort. Odd thing about this place, aside from being consumed by 'red tide', was that all the beach signs around the area were in Russian. I asked about this and apparently the Gulf of Oman is a huge vacation destination for the Eastern Block. From there, down the east coast to the city of Fujairah, checked out a couple of 15th century Portuguese forts, where at one, there was a small mosque at the base of it that had a sign that said "No Tourists". The guide explained that although mosques are generally open to the public, this one was closed because it would reek of alcohol after being visited by the heavy drinking Russian tourists!
All in all, it was great to have had the opportunity to visit Dubai because it worked with our northbound itinerary. But would we come back or recommend it as a vacation spot? No. Neither of us is fond of cities, but if it's constant sunshine you're after, like the exclusive beach resort lifestyle, love to shop and above all have very very deep pockets…… then Dubai just may be the place for you.
Next: Egypt
Til then
KnR
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Week 4
We managed the 5:20 am wake up call by Malu, but it sure is hard crawling out of a tent at that time, or any time for that matter! After a light breakfast we took off for the Norongoro Crater in two separate 4x4s because only half of us were continuing on to the overnight excursion in the Serengeti after the morning game drive. Our campsite was just on the outside of the park reserve so we got there by 7 am as planned. It was an awesome drive winding up the side of the lush volcano then stopping at a view point to look down into the crater before our descent. Norongoro Crater is the world's largest and oldest caldron, 20k across, has a lake and is host to all game except giraffes because there aren't any acacia trees to eat. Upon entering the crater we were amazed at the amount of traffic there! There had to have been over a hundred pop up roof 4x4s tracking back and forth over marked, potholed dirt trails, through gulleys and when you see a group all stopped at one spot (our driver calls it a 'traffic jam') you know there's some sort of action going on so you drive over to check it out as well. Because of the crater's openness it is easy to spot game, and boy they were all out in droves. Huge herds of zebras, wildebeest, gazelles, impalas, warthogs, you name it they were there. No action from the lions though, 3 cubs were doing their own playful thing while the male was sleeping in the tall grass by a creek unfazed by the cubs or the other animals. Apparently the crater lions are fat and lazy because hunting is so easy. Wildebeest are their favorite catch because they aren't the brightest of species which is why zebras like to hang around them as well!
Our 2 groups met up for a bagged lunch at a rest stop picnic area that had a large pond with hippos that were quite entertaining, especially an active little baby. Afterwards we went our separate ways, they to stay in the crater longer before heading back to camp outside of Arusha, and the 6 to continue our way through to the opposite side of the crater for the ascent, and drive towards the Serengeti for 2 nights. Once again the drive out of the crater was magnificent, but this time in particular because once you reached the top of the rim, on one side was the drop off back into the crater and on the other the drop off into the arid, desert-like Serengeti Plains.
We were to spend the night at a campsite in the Seronata area of the Serengeti National Park and wanted to be there before 6 to ensure we got a good spot before other safari trucks piled in. Once inside the park we game drove for 2 hours heading towards the campsite along vast open very bumpy dirt trails with so many lefts, rights, junctions and switchbacks that no one could ever find their way out of the scrub brush maze should they be stranded. In comparison to the crater, it was pretty quiet in the Serengeti, no large herds of anything, just the occasional lone animal here and there which was quite a surprise. Although we did come across a pair of lions basking the sun high up on a rock bed, but once again, totally disinterested in their surroundings.
Campsite was basically a place to pitch a tent with some sheltered areas for cooking, no running water with hole in the ground for toilets. By dark there had to have been 10 tour groups there, so it made for a busy and hopefully safe environment for sleeping humans eager to get back out in the morning. Throughout the night I kept hearing really odd unfamiliar animal noises quite close to our tent. In the morning sure enough all around the campsite and near our tent were manure piles that were identified as belonging to buffalo. It's amazing what comes out when we sleep.
We were back game driving by 7 am and unlike yesterday, the area we went to was very much alive. We saw a Cheetah posing for us on a high mound and when we joined a "traffic jam" we focused in on a leopard sleeping in a tree. We were beginning to think that all the cats do is sleep or lounge around when went to join another traffic jam, and found a whole pride, spread out on the right of us with one female watching and slinking towards a herd of zebras on our left. She crossed the road behind us and walked right along side the row of vehicles while we, along with 2 cubs sitting and watching from the sidelines, waited intently for her to make her move.
Then quite suddenly the zebras changed their direction and just when we thought the action was over, the lion changed her interest onto a dozen or so warthogs who were coming right towards her. Slinking closer and closer when suddenly, a chase took place with warthogs scattering everywhere and the lion zeroed in on a baby. Game over for the little one we thought, but amazingly enough, the incredibly fast side to side darting of the warthog was no match for the lion, whose short spurt stamina tuckered out.
Grinning from ear to ear, we left the Serengeti after lunch and headed out on the 5 hour bouncy drive back to the campsite near Arusha to join up with the rest of the group. We arrived with some time to spare before dinner, so after pitching our tent for the last time, one of the girls was beckoning Roy to join in on the head shaving that was going on. Well before I knew it Roy said, "why the heck not, it'll grow back before we get back home" and off he went! Within 5 minutes there he was looking like a cue ball just like the girl who egged him on.
While we were away for 2 nights in the crater and Serengeti, those who stayed behind had discovered a disco next door just outside the campsite gate and invited us to go back with them that night. It was our last night in Tanzania before heading to Kenya where most of the group would disband, so, despite facing another early morning wake up call, we thought we'd go for it. We were quite the sight in there, Roy, myself and five 20 something girls all taking to the dance floor in a club where we were the only white people among 300 locals. In Swahili a mature woman is called "Mama" similar to our "madame" or the dreaded "mam" designation. Although I had become somewhat used to it, never more did I actually feel like a mama as when we were in that club. Like a sorority mom watching over her charges!
The 250k drive to Nairobi was once again, an absolutely horrible ride over nonexistent, unpaved or under construction roads that seem to be the norm in Tanzania. Because of the seating rotation, we got the dreaded back row, but I actually prefer it because Roy can stretch out while I lay down and doze to ward off motion sickness. We had hoped the roads would improve once we crossed over to Kenya, but no such luck, it's just the norm in Africa. The long rides with pitching and heaving are taking a toll on us and we can't wait to end the overland portion of our trip.
Our first stop in Kenya was in a south Nairobi suburb called Karen of all names, so named after Karen Blixen, of the Out of Africa book fame. Everything there is named after Karen, the hospital, mall, town, buildings and an animal refuge. But what a great westernized suburb with African presence, the first of its kind we've experienced thus far. Comfortable integration, shops, air conditioned stores, lattes, great mall, houses and buildings, very upscale in small town way. We stopped to refresh and recharge and buy more bottled water which from what we've seen throughout Africa, is an environmental disaster. There are no recycling facilities with heaps of plastic bottles everywhere from road sides, to Masai villages right through to urban areas. Beer and pop (coke, sprite and fanta orange rules) all come in worn out recycled bottles that look like they've been around for a century, but as far as plastic goes, it just litters everywhere.
After our short visit to Karen, about 15 minutes away was the campsite where Tilly the truck, and crew Malu, Moses and Cyrus end their 42 day Capetown to Nairobi journey as well as 4 others people. They will be staying there overnight whereas the remaining seven of us will change trucks in the morning and continue through to the Masai Mara and Uganda. After a teary goodbye to new friends, Roy and I and the 2 Aussie girls grab a cab to the hotel we're staying at for one night before heading out on our last overland trip in the morning. After seven days of roughing it, a hotel and pool was much appreciated. Fortunately the campsite in the Masai Mara is a raised floor grass hut over raised floor army style walk in tent with twin beds. Yipee, no more tenting pitching.
After a great night's sleep the new truck and crew arrives at our hotel to pick us up along with 8 new faces and 6 from our original group. This truck is basically doing the return trip Cape Town via the Masai Mara, where we and 2 others end, then onto Uganda for the gorilla trek where the remaining original 4 end their journey as well leaving the rest of the trip to the newcomers only. Malu had warned us the day before that if we thought the roads to Nairobi were bad, wait til we see the roads to the Masia Mara. Apparently they are much worse, more like off roading style due to never ending road construction.
At the road side lunch stop we got a chance to talk to the 20 something year old newbies, 2 Aussies, 1 Brit, 1 US and 4 Canucks and show them the ropes of communal living. The tour company is strict about not spread germs and has a standard hygiene procedure for hand and dishwashing. At meals there are two sets of 3 pans, one set for hand washing and the other for dishwashing. For hands, first pan is soap and water, second to rinse off in a water & Dettol solution (Africa is Dettol crazy), and the third pan for final rinse, followed by air drying. For dishwashing one soapy, second mix with bleach and third for final rinse followed by what is called 'flapping' the dishes to air dry before returning them to the plastic bin. Our new guide took it a step further though, every time you got off the bus, you had to spray your hands with a Dettol water mix before re-boarding. Needless to say our bodies may not have always been the cleanest but our hands were certainly germ free. Frankly, having the process in place is a good thing because the toilet facilities at stops or campsites can range from literal bush stops, to hole in the ground types with or without a toilet. This road side lunch stop was by far the worst, four side by side concrete cubicles with open fronts and a hole in the ground. Since there is no running water judging by the crappy insides (no pun) it is safe to say they are never hosed or at best shoveled out. Truly a disgusting, yet necessary experience. But that's Africa.
Malu was indeed right about the road conditions, and apparently the unfinished state has been like that for a couple of years, typically known as "African time". Granted, road improvements can take a while, but why tear up 200 ks of it all at once, why not tackle one Km at a time? Every time a vehicle approached, we'd all have to close our windows as we'd be smothered in a cloud of dusty sand. Open, close, open, close, pitch, heave that about sums up the 4 hour ride with exception to two highlights, one when we pulled over to view the amazing Rift Valley, 4200 km long that stretches from Kenya all the way to Jordon, and second, when we had a blow out that jolted us out of our seats even more.
Edging our way over to the side, we had come to a full stop right in front of a Masai settlement. Most came running to the road side to check out the action, and as we piled out the truck we had to reign in the camera happy newcomers telling them that Masai do not permit picture taking of them. Regardless, we all managed to discreetly sneak in a few snaps by pretending we were taking pictures of each other, tire changing and scenery. But one of the new people, a ballsy Aussie with a camera lens as long as my arm, decided to approach one of them and ask permission. Well it turned out that for money, they will abandon their belief system, thus starting the handing over of money in turn for picture taking. Even Roy stepped up to the plate enabling me to take a great group photo. After a half hour the tire was changed and we waved goodbye to one happy Masai tribe beaming from ear to ear with their unexpected riches.
As we turned off to the final 3ks to the campsite we were to stay at for the next 2 nights, we passed by large Masai village at which point our leader announces that a tour with unlimited pictures has been arranged for the next evening, for a dollar per person, to be followed by a traditional Masai dance show, for another dollar, right at our campsite. Hmm seems like money buys anything around here, but wow, how great is that we all thought, can't wait until tomorrow. Roy and I are totally fascinated with the Masai and their culture and are eager to learn more right from the source.
The campsite was fabulous, hot showers, real toilets, a thatched roof bar, fire pit and above all, we were off the ground and didn't have to lift a finger! This kind of camping works just fine for us. Over dinner our leader briefed us on the next day, breakfast at 6, pack a lunch and off to the Masai Mara to game drive all day. Then, I overhear one of our group mention he was going on a hot air balloon ride in the morning. We had wanted to go on one in the Serengeti but the schedule didn't allow it so I was eager to get us signed up, and that I did. Only downside (aside from the cost of $415 US each, but hey, its my birthday as well), was that it was a sunrise ride and we would be picked up at 5:15am. Ugh, another super early waking, what kind of a vacation is this anyways?
I don't sleep well when I have to depend on an alarm for fear it doesn't go off, so to get a jump start on some Zs, I headed straight to bed leaving Roy by the campfire with some others. When he joined me a short while later, he told me how he had had a great conversation with a Masai, learned a bit about their culture and tomorrow, had made arrangements to buy a lion's tooth necklace from him for $25. Masai are often hired to do 24 hr security around campsites, lurking in bushes during the night and day. This guy was on duty and obviously saw the opportunity to supplement his income at the same time!
We managed to sneak out of our tents in the pitch black trying to keep quiet so as to not wake up the others. The Masai in the bushes were somewhat helpful by shining their flashlights to help lead the way to the parking lot. After a 45 minute drive in the pitch black, the three of us arrived at the balloon launching site with 9 others also standing by. After a do's and don'ts briefing by our Brit pilot, the 12 of us pile in, 3 persons per quadrant and quietly lift off into the darkness just as the sun was rising over the "sleeping Masai" mountain range. We coasted anywhere from 3 up to 2200 feet off the ground looking for wildlife even sneaking between trees without a sound. We did however startle a bunch of elephants out of the bushes to the point that although they didn't go far, one of the 5 kept running and running long after we had passed leaving his group far behind. It was quite funny , although I did feel a twinge of guilt for scaring the poor animal considering we were the intruders.
To end the amazing hour and a half ride, we gently landed in a clearing where a long banquet table had been set for us to have a champagne breakfast. Wow, how great is that! Endless champagne, croissants, cheese, fruit and yogurt and more champagne in the middle of the Masai Mara after a hot air balloon ride on my birthday. Couldn't have been any better.
After our indulgence, we three were driven to meet up with the rest of our group who had stopped for a break at a resort called Keikbrook, and quite the resort it was. Very high end, for those who do safaris in high style unlike us bus travelers for whom the rest of the day of game driving was most displeasing. Game driving is done in an open topped 4x4 not a closed in huge army truck with no suspension. Despite the bouncing around Roy and I promptly dozed off due to the early start in conjunction with the champagne we had drank. We stopped for lunch at a ranger's station right on the edge of the Mara River, where the famed wildebeest migration from the Masai Mara in Kenya, to the Serengeti in Tanzania takes place twice a year in July and December. We stopped for about an hour, and were back on the trail, pitching and heaving for what was the worst 4 hours of all time. The last thing we wanted was to do more game driving we had had our fill of it and wished we could have been taken back to our campsite to chill instead of having to meet up with the group.
I barely survived the afternoon and we were relieved when at 5:00 we turned the corner and pulled into the Masai village for our tour. The tour guide turned out to be one of the chief's seven sons from four mothers. What we witnessed and learned was so incredible that it's a whole story in itself that I'll post later. But in a nutshell, the Masai are a primitive chauvinistic tribe who choose to retain their barbaric rituals and rites of passage, while at times crossing over into western civilization for purely self serving reasons. They live in round villages built upon dried manure with a center corral for their animals. Children are covered in flies, run around barefoot (unlike the men) and are surrounded by deplorable living conditions. Roy and I both are totally fascinated with them and eager to learn more, so much so that I'm currently reading the book "The White Masai" a true story about a Swiss woman who fell in love with a Masai while on vacation, and lived the life as we have witnessed it. Remarkable story and apparently a new movie.
At the end of the tour we were led into a section where the women had set up curio stands inside raised chicken brooding booths, to sell their wares. Their tactics make Mexican street vendors look tame to the point all I wanted was out of there! I did however buy one of their traditional blanket style wraps because I was chilled, but Roy ended up shunning the original lion tooth deal from the previous night for a better price. Along with his shaved head and African top he now wears a lions tooth around his neck. Good thing we're leaving Africa soon, lest he start wearing a loin cloth and carry a spear
Done with the tour, about a dozen Masai warriors escorted us on the 3k walk to our campsite. After our dinner, around the campfire they performed three ceremonial dances pertaining to; warrior's rite of passage, contest to win a "free" wife (the higher you jump the fewer cows you have to give) and a wedding dance. It was very entertaining and interactive to the point that we were individually singled out to participate. At the finish, the lead Masai was very quick to hold his hand out ensuring each every one of us gave him a dollar. Then before we knew it, they all quietly disappeared into the bushes where they remained unseen throughout the night.
Next morning we departed on what was our last 3 hour bumpy ride in a truck. Roy, myself and the two Aussie girls were dropped off in Narok, the halfway point to Nairobi, where we were meeting a minivan to take us to Nairobi,, while the rest of the campers headed towards Uganda. It was a sad goodbye to the 4 remaining originals who had started out as 28 people two months ago and were now the minority amongst the 8 newcomers. Although we were only with them for 10 days, we thoroughly enjoyed our time with them and will cherish the experiences we shared in our trek across East Africa.
By noon we were back at the hotel in Nairobi eager for food and a beer and to reminisce about our month in Africa. We weren't leaving for Dubai until late next night so we thought we'd tackle site seeing Nairobi in the morning and chill by the pool instead. When in foreign cities we favor taking a city tour bus which is a great way to learn about its history and such. Unfortunately, Nairobi quite surprisingly didn't have one, so all we managed to do was walk to the heart of the city to the Nairobi International Cultural Center where there is a 360 observation deck. As far as cities go, from what we saw, we quite liked Nairobi, professional attire, contemporary yet with older buildings, no modern skyscrapers and a very welcoming feel to it despite the student riot that happened earlier this year. Its been reported to have the best worldwide climate, averaging of 22C all year round with no seasonal changes whatsoever. Sounds perfect to me, including the fact that it is illegal to smoke in public throughout Kenya! Progressive in so many ways, now if they would only do something about the roads!
All in all we loved Africa and wouldn't hesitate to come back. But no more overland trips for us – next stop Dubai!
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Week 3
We flew out of Durban, connected in Johannesburg for the flight to Dar Es Salaam, (aka Dar) Tanzania’s port city on the coast of the Indian Ocean. A 4.5 hour flight, we arrived at 7:30pm and it was as hot and humid inside the airport as it was out. The whole visa thing was a joke, 8 wickets with only 2 people serving a whole plane load of people. Took us an hour and 50USD each before we got out of there, fortunately our prearranged ride sent by the campsite where we were meeting up with our safari group, did not abandon us.
Wow, what a culture shock East Africa is so different compared to prim proper SAfrica. The night streets of Dar es Salaam was rundown, noisy, full of erratic traffic, horn honking and people everywhere. If you didn’t know where you were you’d think you were somewhere in the middle east. It was close to 10pm by the time we pulled in, and were met by our tour leader Malu , a lovely S.African woman who was staying in one of the campsite tents along with the others. Not quite ready to start pitching a tent, I had prebooked us into one of the beachfront cabanas about 200 paces down a very long sandy path. Primarily a backpackers retreat, we looked out of place dragging our non cooperative pull along luggage down the loose sandy trail leaving deep plow marks leading to our cabana.
Following our luggage trail, we were able to retrace our way to the main entrance where the bar was to meet up with Malu for a quick briefing and to meet the rest of the group. It turned out that this safari was 56 days long with various enter and exit points, and we were joining in on day 42. At this point, the group had dwindled down to 13 from 28 which meant there was sufficient room in the truck for our tourist size luggage next to all the backpacks. We had known that this safari was a grass roots version for all ages, but we were surprised to see that with exception to Malu who is 42, they were all in their mid 20s. Roy figured if he doubled the eldest’s age, he would still be older, followed very closely by me! The plan was to meet at the truck for camp style breakfast at 7, then head to the ferry in Dar to go over to Zanzibar for 3 nights. Recommendation from Malu to us was to ditch the wheeled luggage and just take what we needed for the 4 days in a carryon. Good advice!
After a hot and sweaty rather, sweaty, sleepless night in the ginormous netted platform bed, we were awakened for the last time at 5am by the distant Islamic “call to prayer” chant. I managed to rearrange our gear into a carryon and off we headed down the sandy trail leaving yet another plow mark behind us. We went into the campsite where breakfast making was in full swing, headed by the cook Moses and assisted by the others. It was obvious that the group had been travelling together for awhile given the organized manner of slicing and dicing, dishwashing, setup and tear down. Every person has a rotational chore based upon their designated animal name. One day, Jackels are sou-chefs, whereas Lions have dishes duty and Monkeys will clean the interior of the truck. After breakfast and clean up, all gear is packed into the military style truck fondly called “Tilly” who would drive us only as far as the ferry in Dar, and would remain there (with the unecessary luggage) until our return from Zanzibar in 4 days.
Zanzibar island is about 40k off the coast and is a 2 hour foot passenger ferry ride. Although part of Tanzania, the island has arms length independence which means they require all foreigners to have enter and exit stamps so we arrived 1.5 hours earlier so Malu could deal with the authorities on our behalf. We had an hour to kill in Dar, which in the daylight was worse than what we’d seen the night before. Could have been just the area we were in, but given the heat, all we managed to check out was the nearest ATM and a store for bottled water then quickly head back to hide under the designated meeting point tree for 45 minutes until sailing time. Predominantly an Islamic culture, all women are required to cover our shoulders in public and the additional shrowding, although with just a sheer shawl, made it even hotter for me. How they do it I don’t know. Roy too was perspiring profusely, so much so that when we returned from the 15 minute ATM walk, he had to change out of his sweat stained grey Tshirt under the tree. Looked like he’d been working in the fields all day.
Embarking on the ferry was like a cattle call, people from all walks of life, even a young man dressed in a traditional Masai tribal outfit all racing for the best of the 120 forward facing theater style seats on the economy deck. To keep us entertained, the TVs along the front quite appropriately played the old 60s movie, Born to be Wild, followed by Mr. Bean episodes. The one thing we’ve noticed during our travels is that no matter how primitive the surroundings or appearance, most everyone has a cell phone.
Zanzibar Island is 95% Islamic having originally been settled by Arabs. There we were met by a bus and dropped off at a hotel in Stone Town where everyone else was staying for one night only before heading up to the north coast for the other 2 nights. Since the Zanzibar portion wasn’t part of the prepaid tour, I had decided that we would spend all the time up the north coast area called Nungwi just so that we could stay put for 3 nights. Based on the reviews on Trip Adviser, I decided against the hotel the rest would be staying at (more hostel like) and booked us at a “resort” about 10 minutes away. After an hour taxi ride through some incredible road side Swahili & Arabic villages made of red clay, we checked into our thatched roof cabana at Tanzanite Beach Resort where at first, it appeared we were the only guests. Odd we thought, maybe the others are out exploring. Anxious to cool off, as fast as we could get our bathing suits on we were down at the water only to find that we were on a coral reef not sand. Good thing I brought aqua sox, but the coral was too slippery to walk on so we had to go down the shore about 5 minutes to find sand. I guess “beach resort” doesn’t mean “sandy beach resort”. But, believe it or not, the water was actually too warm, 28/29, absolutely nothing refreshing about it to the point that all it did was wet you to allow the breeze to cool you down when you got out. As well as being deserted, we were disappointed to discover the place didn’t have a pool, but best not to complain we decided, it was otherwise a beautiful setting. At dinner 4 tables had been set up on the sand next to an ambient burning fire pit, then soon after, all 5 other guests showed up. True to our experience thus far, being European they kept to themselves despite Roy’s efforts to make conversation.
Next morning we decided to rent a scooter or a motorcycle and go explore the island. Reception obviously made arrangements through a local who was merely renting out his own bike, and between an assortment of issues including the gas tank being empty and the chain needing to be tightened it took 4 hours before we actually got on the road with the not exactly built for two, 250cc dirt bike (which turned out to be a good thing). We had to pick it up in the area where the rest of the group was staying, so we got to check out the location I didn’t choose based on “hostel” rating. Whereas our spot was eerily void of people, had no beach or pool and really really bad overcooked food, theirs had a beautiful sandy beach, several eateries, 24 hr beach bar, merchants, water sports, and lots of people milling about. Although there were other places to stay, true to the ratings, I’m glad I hadn’t booked where the others were staying.
We ended up putting on 80k travelling (which our butts severely paid for) along some intense one lane paths of heavy sand through several tiny villages of a dozen or more dwellings tucked in between tourist accommodations. People were very friendly, mostly dressed in traditional Islamic attire, children waving and shouting out either “Jambon” or “Ola” both a greeting in Swahili. The only unfortunate part of the day was not being able to take any photos of the people or their surroundings because of the Islamic belief that you take away their soul. Even the cop who set up a block to check for drivers licences wouldn’t let me take his picture, and when I pulled out my camera to take a picture of Roy helping push out a truck stuck in mud, two little kids next to me who thought I was going to take their picture, had waived No to me.
On the drive back to our non-resort, we stopped in at the one next to us called Ras Nungwi. Here we were looking like a pair of rif-raf coming in from a day of dirt biking all dusty and sweaty, but they let us in regardless. Now this was a real resort – lots of guests, a sandy beach and wonderful pool that I very quickly helped myself to while we had a couple of drinks poolside to whet our sandy whistle. We contemplated coming back for a real nice dinner on our last night, but once back at our place we felt guilty as it looked like they were down to only 2 couples remaining. But it turned out that 5 more had checked in – a group from California working as consultants to improve fisheries in Zanzibar, which meant we probably wouldn’t have been missed.
Our last day, Roy booked us for a 9am dive so we gingerly hopped onto the bike after breakfast and headed over to party central where most people were just going to bed. At the last moment I decided not to join in on the dive, to make it my one, undisturbed beach day. As it turned out, Roy didn’t rate the dives very high and told me how they had lost one guy who had surfaced early due to ear problems but when the rest came up he was nowhere to be found! Apparently he didn’t see the boat when he surfaced and the current drifted him away so much so that he couldn’t be seen. Fortunately another dive boat in the area saw him bobbing around and picked him up and returned him to safety.
We thoroughly enjoyed our very short time on Zanzibar and wished we’d had more time, especially to do the hour plus drive back down the coast to tour Stone Town, which everyone does upon arrival. But alas we met up with the group next morning for the drive through the town we didn’t see back to the ferry for the mainland. Once at the ferry I had discovered that I inadvertently threw away the ticket Malu gave us on the way there thinking it was one way not return. Because she had to deal with immigration once again on behalf of the entire group, chances were that there wouldn’t be enough time to get us new tickets since they aren’t bought at the ferry, but at an office 4 blocks away. Worse comes to worse we’d have to handle it ourselves take a later ferry and find our own way back to the campsite in Dar. To start the ball rolling, I talked to several ferry officials who were talking on their cells to other officials, all trying to find the ships manifest that would confirm return passage had been paid by Malu on our arrival day. After 40 minutes of passport shuffling and phone calls, they still didn’t have confirmation but they let us on just as the horn was blowing. One good thing about being the last ones on we got to sit upstairs in first class for an extra $20, no different than economy, just half the people, this time all watching the movie Congo .
So back at the same campsite where we first arrived, again we upgraded to the cabana again but this time we didn’t drag the roll along luggage through the sandy trail, just left them in “Tilly” and worked out of the carryon instead. But we laughed to see remnants of our first plow marks still marking the way.
It was a 5 am wake up call, and on the road by 6 for what turned out to be a brutal 12 hour ride to Arusha with one toilet break in the morning and a road side lunch. To keep things fair, there was a pre established order to where you sat on the truck. Every day you rotate 2 rows and with the group having dwindled to half its size, all those who joined long before us now had a row to themselves, (except for us), and were promptly asleep within 2 minutes of departure and pretty much throughout the whole trip. Whilst bobbing around 2 rows from the back of the bus we managed to see Tanzania pass by which is predominantly rich red soil farm land of sisal, wheat, corn, rice and coffee interspersed with towns and villages. A few hours after passing Mt Kilimanjaro whose top half was covered in cloud and therefore unseen, we finally arrived at a Masai campsite called Snake Park just pass Arusha, for our 1st official night of sleeping in a tent. We got there just at dark so setting up the tent was a bit of a fumble act, but we managed to get it up in time for Roy to assist Moses in making dinner. He was on salad duty, which was quite comical since he’d never used a vegie peeler before! After dinner Roy went to the campsite bar with the others in an attempt to try and bond with the group whereas I was bagged from that 12 hour ride and hit the tent soon after dinner. It was going to be another busy morning and I wanted to get some serious shut eye.
Next day we weren’t hitting the road until after lunch, so we all went into the town of Arusha for banking and grocery shopping for personal munchies and water. Malu gave us an hour and we spent the entire time scouring ATMs that would give us money and a bank that would cash travelers cheques. After 45 minutes in a bank line up and 5 minutes before our time was up, I finally get up to the teller who informs me she can’t cash them without the original purchase receipt, which of course I didn’t have with me because according to the instructions it was to be kept in a separate location. Meanwhile Roy found a machine that worked for his debit card raced back to the truck to tell them to pick me up along road side, which they did. Banking system in Africa is quite different, not all banks accept travelers cheques and ATMs are usually designated either Visa or MC but not both.
We arrived back at the campsite just in time for lunch and to take a peek at the Masai auction that was being held in an open arena next to the campsite. Masai people are strictly herds people/shepherds tending to their cattle only. They eat only red meat from domesticated animals, consider the ground sacred and therefore do not cultivate. So what they do once a week is bring their prized cow or goat out to the auction, and with the money buy the other necessities of life. The auction was quite a sight – thousands of Masai and livestock all milling about. Between the campsite and the arena there were a few huts with a Masai woman sitting outside one selling her wares. I asked permission to take her picture, which I could for a dollar, as well as having to go into her boutique hut. Masai is another group who do not like their picture being taken, so I was glad to have had the opportunity.
After a quick peek at the auction we ran back to take down our tent as we were about to be picked up by Land Cruisers to go to the Noronogoro Crater and Serengeti. Only half the group was going to both destinations, so we were in two six seaters with pop up roofs designed for game viewing. It was a 3 hour drive down a rich red dirt road to the campsite in Karatu on the edge of the Norongoro Crater. It was a lovely campsite, nice restaurant, bar, internet room, beautiful grounds, hot showers, and our group of 13 had the whole place to ourselves. Next morning was going to be a 6 am departure to be inside the crater for the morning game drive so Roy and I retreated back to our tent just before 9 pm to the distant sound of African drums. What a nice way to be lulled to sleep I thought, only to find out in the morning that it was live music and dance show not a CD playing from the bar! Everyone else was there except for us, being the old folks who go to bed early. Definitely a case of ‘you snooze you lose’!
Next posting: Norongoro Crater, Serengeti, Nairobi and Masai Mara
Til then,
KnR
Wow, what a culture shock East Africa is so different compared to prim proper SAfrica. The night streets of Dar es Salaam was rundown, noisy, full of erratic traffic, horn honking and people everywhere. If you didn’t know where you were you’d think you were somewhere in the middle east. It was close to 10pm by the time we pulled in, and were met by our tour leader Malu , a lovely S.African woman who was staying in one of the campsite tents along with the others. Not quite ready to start pitching a tent, I had prebooked us into one of the beachfront cabanas about 200 paces down a very long sandy path. Primarily a backpackers retreat, we looked out of place dragging our non cooperative pull along luggage down the loose sandy trail leaving deep plow marks leading to our cabana.
Following our luggage trail, we were able to retrace our way to the main entrance where the bar was to meet up with Malu for a quick briefing and to meet the rest of the group. It turned out that this safari was 56 days long with various enter and exit points, and we were joining in on day 42. At this point, the group had dwindled down to 13 from 28 which meant there was sufficient room in the truck for our tourist size luggage next to all the backpacks. We had known that this safari was a grass roots version for all ages, but we were surprised to see that with exception to Malu who is 42, they were all in their mid 20s. Roy figured if he doubled the eldest’s age, he would still be older, followed very closely by me! The plan was to meet at the truck for camp style breakfast at 7, then head to the ferry in Dar to go over to Zanzibar for 3 nights. Recommendation from Malu to us was to ditch the wheeled luggage and just take what we needed for the 4 days in a carryon. Good advice!
After a hot and sweaty rather, sweaty, sleepless night in the ginormous netted platform bed, we were awakened for the last time at 5am by the distant Islamic “call to prayer” chant. I managed to rearrange our gear into a carryon and off we headed down the sandy trail leaving yet another plow mark behind us. We went into the campsite where breakfast making was in full swing, headed by the cook Moses and assisted by the others. It was obvious that the group had been travelling together for awhile given the organized manner of slicing and dicing, dishwashing, setup and tear down. Every person has a rotational chore based upon their designated animal name. One day, Jackels are sou-chefs, whereas Lions have dishes duty and Monkeys will clean the interior of the truck. After breakfast and clean up, all gear is packed into the military style truck fondly called “Tilly” who would drive us only as far as the ferry in Dar, and would remain there (with the unecessary luggage) until our return from Zanzibar in 4 days.
Zanzibar island is about 40k off the coast and is a 2 hour foot passenger ferry ride. Although part of Tanzania, the island has arms length independence which means they require all foreigners to have enter and exit stamps so we arrived 1.5 hours earlier so Malu could deal with the authorities on our behalf. We had an hour to kill in Dar, which in the daylight was worse than what we’d seen the night before. Could have been just the area we were in, but given the heat, all we managed to check out was the nearest ATM and a store for bottled water then quickly head back to hide under the designated meeting point tree for 45 minutes until sailing time. Predominantly an Islamic culture, all women are required to cover our shoulders in public and the additional shrowding, although with just a sheer shawl, made it even hotter for me. How they do it I don’t know. Roy too was perspiring profusely, so much so that when we returned from the 15 minute ATM walk, he had to change out of his sweat stained grey Tshirt under the tree. Looked like he’d been working in the fields all day.
Embarking on the ferry was like a cattle call, people from all walks of life, even a young man dressed in a traditional Masai tribal outfit all racing for the best of the 120 forward facing theater style seats on the economy deck. To keep us entertained, the TVs along the front quite appropriately played the old 60s movie, Born to be Wild, followed by Mr. Bean episodes. The one thing we’ve noticed during our travels is that no matter how primitive the surroundings or appearance, most everyone has a cell phone.
Zanzibar Island is 95% Islamic having originally been settled by Arabs. There we were met by a bus and dropped off at a hotel in Stone Town where everyone else was staying for one night only before heading up to the north coast for the other 2 nights. Since the Zanzibar portion wasn’t part of the prepaid tour, I had decided that we would spend all the time up the north coast area called Nungwi just so that we could stay put for 3 nights. Based on the reviews on Trip Adviser, I decided against the hotel the rest would be staying at (more hostel like) and booked us at a “resort” about 10 minutes away. After an hour taxi ride through some incredible road side Swahili & Arabic villages made of red clay, we checked into our thatched roof cabana at Tanzanite Beach Resort where at first, it appeared we were the only guests. Odd we thought, maybe the others are out exploring. Anxious to cool off, as fast as we could get our bathing suits on we were down at the water only to find that we were on a coral reef not sand. Good thing I brought aqua sox, but the coral was too slippery to walk on so we had to go down the shore about 5 minutes to find sand. I guess “beach resort” doesn’t mean “sandy beach resort”. But, believe it or not, the water was actually too warm, 28/29, absolutely nothing refreshing about it to the point that all it did was wet you to allow the breeze to cool you down when you got out. As well as being deserted, we were disappointed to discover the place didn’t have a pool, but best not to complain we decided, it was otherwise a beautiful setting. At dinner 4 tables had been set up on the sand next to an ambient burning fire pit, then soon after, all 5 other guests showed up. True to our experience thus far, being European they kept to themselves despite Roy’s efforts to make conversation.
Next morning we decided to rent a scooter or a motorcycle and go explore the island. Reception obviously made arrangements through a local who was merely renting out his own bike, and between an assortment of issues including the gas tank being empty and the chain needing to be tightened it took 4 hours before we actually got on the road with the not exactly built for two, 250cc dirt bike (which turned out to be a good thing). We had to pick it up in the area where the rest of the group was staying, so we got to check out the location I didn’t choose based on “hostel” rating. Whereas our spot was eerily void of people, had no beach or pool and really really bad overcooked food, theirs had a beautiful sandy beach, several eateries, 24 hr beach bar, merchants, water sports, and lots of people milling about. Although there were other places to stay, true to the ratings, I’m glad I hadn’t booked where the others were staying.
We ended up putting on 80k travelling (which our butts severely paid for) along some intense one lane paths of heavy sand through several tiny villages of a dozen or more dwellings tucked in between tourist accommodations. People were very friendly, mostly dressed in traditional Islamic attire, children waving and shouting out either “Jambon” or “Ola” both a greeting in Swahili. The only unfortunate part of the day was not being able to take any photos of the people or their surroundings because of the Islamic belief that you take away their soul. Even the cop who set up a block to check for drivers licences wouldn’t let me take his picture, and when I pulled out my camera to take a picture of Roy helping push out a truck stuck in mud, two little kids next to me who thought I was going to take their picture, had waived No to me.
On the drive back to our non-resort, we stopped in at the one next to us called Ras Nungwi. Here we were looking like a pair of rif-raf coming in from a day of dirt biking all dusty and sweaty, but they let us in regardless. Now this was a real resort – lots of guests, a sandy beach and wonderful pool that I very quickly helped myself to while we had a couple of drinks poolside to whet our sandy whistle. We contemplated coming back for a real nice dinner on our last night, but once back at our place we felt guilty as it looked like they were down to only 2 couples remaining. But it turned out that 5 more had checked in – a group from California working as consultants to improve fisheries in Zanzibar, which meant we probably wouldn’t have been missed.
Our last day, Roy booked us for a 9am dive so we gingerly hopped onto the bike after breakfast and headed over to party central where most people were just going to bed. At the last moment I decided not to join in on the dive, to make it my one, undisturbed beach day. As it turned out, Roy didn’t rate the dives very high and told me how they had lost one guy who had surfaced early due to ear problems but when the rest came up he was nowhere to be found! Apparently he didn’t see the boat when he surfaced and the current drifted him away so much so that he couldn’t be seen. Fortunately another dive boat in the area saw him bobbing around and picked him up and returned him to safety.
We thoroughly enjoyed our very short time on Zanzibar and wished we’d had more time, especially to do the hour plus drive back down the coast to tour Stone Town, which everyone does upon arrival. But alas we met up with the group next morning for the drive through the town we didn’t see back to the ferry for the mainland. Once at the ferry I had discovered that I inadvertently threw away the ticket Malu gave us on the way there thinking it was one way not return. Because she had to deal with immigration once again on behalf of the entire group, chances were that there wouldn’t be enough time to get us new tickets since they aren’t bought at the ferry, but at an office 4 blocks away. Worse comes to worse we’d have to handle it ourselves take a later ferry and find our own way back to the campsite in Dar. To start the ball rolling, I talked to several ferry officials who were talking on their cells to other officials, all trying to find the ships manifest that would confirm return passage had been paid by Malu on our arrival day. After 40 minutes of passport shuffling and phone calls, they still didn’t have confirmation but they let us on just as the horn was blowing. One good thing about being the last ones on we got to sit upstairs in first class for an extra $20, no different than economy, just half the people, this time all watching the movie Congo .
So back at the same campsite where we first arrived, again we upgraded to the cabana again but this time we didn’t drag the roll along luggage through the sandy trail, just left them in “Tilly” and worked out of the carryon instead. But we laughed to see remnants of our first plow marks still marking the way.
It was a 5 am wake up call, and on the road by 6 for what turned out to be a brutal 12 hour ride to Arusha with one toilet break in the morning and a road side lunch. To keep things fair, there was a pre established order to where you sat on the truck. Every day you rotate 2 rows and with the group having dwindled to half its size, all those who joined long before us now had a row to themselves, (except for us), and were promptly asleep within 2 minutes of departure and pretty much throughout the whole trip. Whilst bobbing around 2 rows from the back of the bus we managed to see Tanzania pass by which is predominantly rich red soil farm land of sisal, wheat, corn, rice and coffee interspersed with towns and villages. A few hours after passing Mt Kilimanjaro whose top half was covered in cloud and therefore unseen, we finally arrived at a Masai campsite called Snake Park just pass Arusha, for our 1st official night of sleeping in a tent. We got there just at dark so setting up the tent was a bit of a fumble act, but we managed to get it up in time for Roy to assist Moses in making dinner. He was on salad duty, which was quite comical since he’d never used a vegie peeler before! After dinner Roy went to the campsite bar with the others in an attempt to try and bond with the group whereas I was bagged from that 12 hour ride and hit the tent soon after dinner. It was going to be another busy morning and I wanted to get some serious shut eye.
Next day we weren’t hitting the road until after lunch, so we all went into the town of Arusha for banking and grocery shopping for personal munchies and water. Malu gave us an hour and we spent the entire time scouring ATMs that would give us money and a bank that would cash travelers cheques. After 45 minutes in a bank line up and 5 minutes before our time was up, I finally get up to the teller who informs me she can’t cash them without the original purchase receipt, which of course I didn’t have with me because according to the instructions it was to be kept in a separate location. Meanwhile Roy found a machine that worked for his debit card raced back to the truck to tell them to pick me up along road side, which they did. Banking system in Africa is quite different, not all banks accept travelers cheques and ATMs are usually designated either Visa or MC but not both.
We arrived back at the campsite just in time for lunch and to take a peek at the Masai auction that was being held in an open arena next to the campsite. Masai people are strictly herds people/shepherds tending to their cattle only. They eat only red meat from domesticated animals, consider the ground sacred and therefore do not cultivate. So what they do once a week is bring their prized cow or goat out to the auction, and with the money buy the other necessities of life. The auction was quite a sight – thousands of Masai and livestock all milling about. Between the campsite and the arena there were a few huts with a Masai woman sitting outside one selling her wares. I asked permission to take her picture, which I could for a dollar, as well as having to go into her boutique hut. Masai is another group who do not like their picture being taken, so I was glad to have had the opportunity.
After a quick peek at the auction we ran back to take down our tent as we were about to be picked up by Land Cruisers to go to the Noronogoro Crater and Serengeti. Only half the group was going to both destinations, so we were in two six seaters with pop up roofs designed for game viewing. It was a 3 hour drive down a rich red dirt road to the campsite in Karatu on the edge of the Norongoro Crater. It was a lovely campsite, nice restaurant, bar, internet room, beautiful grounds, hot showers, and our group of 13 had the whole place to ourselves. Next morning was going to be a 6 am departure to be inside the crater for the morning game drive so Roy and I retreated back to our tent just before 9 pm to the distant sound of African drums. What a nice way to be lulled to sleep I thought, only to find out in the morning that it was live music and dance show not a CD playing from the bar! Everyone else was there except for us, being the old folks who go to bed early. Definitely a case of ‘you snooze you lose’!
Next posting: Norongoro Crater, Serengeti, Nairobi and Masai Mara
Til then,
KnR
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Week 2
Week 2
It poured rain throughout our last night in KNYSNA, and was cool with gloomy grey drizzle on the morning drive to TSITSIKAMMA , short trip of about 100ks. Tsitsikamma is known as the garden of the garden route, because of its 68 km stretch that is covered in large tracts of indigenous primeval rainforest, and Fynbos (low laying coastal shrubs and proteas). Main attraction is the National Park and abundance of nature hikes, one of which runs 60 km from Storms River to the Indian Ocean and takes 5 days to complete.
We stayed in the village that has 3 merchants, 2 eateries, an adventure center, a few spa like B&Bs, and the Protea Hotel where we were booked to stay. The Protea is SA’s national flower after which the hotel chain throughout SA is named. This location wasn’t typical hotel style, but a white walled property with gazebo entrances and clusters of 2 storey wooden chalets and cabins amidst a wonderful garden. Almost like a village within a village. The place was deserted when we first arrived so we thought there’d be no problem booking the canopy ride (zip line through the forest) and horseback riding as well. But the canopy ride was pre-booked (2 bus loads of Korean tourists were about to arrive) and apparently the horse rides are cancelled when raining. So we just did the 2k hike through the hilly rainforest that, much to our surprise, was totally void of any signs of wildlife. Kinda odd for a nature reserve when the only wildlife noises you hear are coming from the human with me!
Next morning, much to our surprise, the sun was shining bright, a perfect day for a 9 am canopy ride We were the only ones at that hour, I guess it was too early for other tourists or they all went the day before. As apprehensive as I was, the experience was pretty anticlimactic although quite enjoyable zipping through the fresh smelling forest from tree to tree like a monkey.
Before heading out on the road, we went to the National Park that encompasses a marine reserve of 80k long coastline, a 1k hike to the suspension bridge over the Storms River (which we did) and magnificent forests that edge the mix of sand and sharp rocky coastline. Upon closer look of the rocks, Roy informed me that the sharp vertical plates of rock were actually flat laying sedimentary rocks that at some point in time, the plates shifted and pushed the rocks upwards onto their edges. They were quite an amazing sight actually, almost prehistoric.
After a 185km drive we arrived in PORT ELIZABETH, situated in Nelson Mandela Bay, the 3rd largest port and 5th largest city in SA, often referred to as the Friendly City, and the most budget friendly. Can’t imagine it being any cheaper than what we’d experienced thus far. Despite not having a city map and having deviated from the point A to B driving instructions wed been given so Roy could see if PE airport had anything of interest (which it didn’t) we arrived at the 5th Avenue Guest House on Marine without getting lost. It was an absolutely lovely courtyard English manor with 22 rooms and pool, owned and operated by a couple who lived next door and 8 full time staff. The wife, Anthea, a was quite a bubbly and very talkative character, so much so that within 5 minutes of our arrival she had told us how she’s Methodist, her husband Jewish and they were going to Utah for the wedding of their 25 year old chef daughter whose marrying a Mormon whom she had met last year after breaking up with her then boyfriend while travelling in the US and went on to work as live-in chef in a family home who introduced her to a church elder who had a grandson looking for a wife. Hmm, Fundamentalists was the first thing that crossed my mind, but apparently not. That was the first of many chats we had with Anthea, thereafter Roy had tried to steer clear of her as to not engage in never ending conversations. Her husband was quite like Roy, a big kid with bikes, has a glider and other toys, but not a man of many words, not surprisingly!
After tearing ourselves away from Anthea, we decided on a quick walk along the water front to take in some Port Elizabeth sights. The wind however, was so strong , around 70km Roy guestimated, that it was impossible to move, so we high tailed it back to the guest house, sneaking in without being seen by Anthea!
The unfortunate part of this pre-booked kind of travel schedule where you arrive in the afternoon and leave the next day, is that you don’t get the time to see anything which was the case in Port Elizabeth. But, that’s OK, we’re here to see and experience ethnic Africa, not yet another British dominate city. Frankly I’m ready to abandon cups and saucers, traditional English breakfasts, which Roy thoroughly indulges in every morning, and chips with everything. Fish and chip, lamb chops and chips, curried lamb and chips, sandwiches and chips, calamari and chips, and he wonders why his belly isn’t getting any smaller! Mind you I shouldn’t point the finger, I have my own indulgences.
We left the clutches of Anthea, and for the first time in our east bound coastal drive, we headed north/north east into a town called ALICEDALE in the Addo Elephant Park area, about 90 minutes from PE. After a 17k trip down a dirt road we arrived at our destination BUSHMAN SANDS, that, much to our surprise is a new hotel, golf course, game reserve in the middle of a small African town. We were pre booked for a 4:30 game drive which gave us a few hours to chill, Roy to eat, and me to lounge around poolside for the first time since we started this trip.
The 2 hour game drive was quite the adventure. Once again, there was just the two of us, in the open topped safari truck driven by our guide Brian. It was a very hilly and bumpy course but within 100 yards of entering the game reserve, there were the elephants, who apparently Brian said, have been quite elusive of late. Must be the lucky people from Canada he said. Chances are he says that to everyone! Further on into the bumpy journey he pointed out various flora, one intriguing one they call Uphobia, whose long green strands contain a poisonous milky substance that in old times hunters used to poison their arrows with. We also saw zebras, giraffes, rhinos, wart hogs, amazing hip high termite hills – and a few drops of rain as well. Then, with 45 minutes left in the 2 hour drive, the sky opened up, thunder, lightning and torrential downpour. Brian had brought along light weight nylon lined canvas ponchos, just in case it rained, but within 10 minutes they were soaked right through that the nylon lining stuck to your skin. Fortunately we had ball caps on to somewhat protect our faces from the pelting rain while driving, but I felt so sad for Brian trying to maneuver the roads in rain covered glasses. We three were quite the sight when we arrived back at the resort, from the gate staff to concierge they were all laughing at us. Needless to say we gave Brian a big tip ($20) for perseverance.
Although the rain wreaked havoc on us tourists, it was much needed by the area as a severe drought had cause extreme water shortages and drying up of dams. So all in all it was a good thing to have happen and an experience we’re not soon to forget.
Next day, 300k drive ahead of us. One thing we noticed since leaving Port Elizabeth is that we are now travelling through areas that are no longer Afrikaans/Dutch named, but all very British. About 50ks into the drive we stopped in a major town called GRAHAMSTOWN to buy some camera batteries. Its history is that originally settled by 4500 Brits whose intentions were to farm the lush foothills, but they preferred urban life instead and the town became the second largest artisan area next to Cape Town. We drove down Georgian and Victorian period streets, neat as a pin but not a pale face in sight, when all of a sudden we were distracted by groups of really tall young white people out for a run. When the crowd cleared we discovered ourselves approaching a massive Rhodes University smack dab in the middle of the town.
Back on the road with batteries in hand, the highway passes though another British settled town called KING WILLIAMS TOWN, (which was pretty run down and no visible integration) then onto the next town of BUTTERWORTH, a name that brought on the comforting image of Mrs Butterworth’s syrup. Wrong image! The 2 lane highway slowly passes through the several non working street lights of the dirtiest, urban shanty town imaginable. Tipped over trash cans with garbage piled high all over the street corners, bars on windows and people glaring at us as we drive through. The intimidation I feel is due to the fact that we really haven’t determined how the blacks feel after apartheid. Do they embrace their white neighbours and happy travelers just passing through, or is there unspoken resentment lurking below the surface?
Happy that we’re outta there and didn’t need to stop for gas, we continue on the now rainy drive through never ending lush rolling hills of farm land dotted with clusters of aboriginal communities with brightly painted concrete small bungalows and thatched roof round houses. Often you’d see a group of buildings all in the same color, which we figured to be when the family had built more within their property, they kept to the same color scheme, like a familial identifier.
Shortly before our turn off to the day’s destination of HAGA HAGA, I had asked Roy how the gas situation was, to which he replied was “fine”. But, no sooner did we turn off onto the dirt road that said we had 24k to go, the gas light came on. No worries Roy said, surely there’ll be gas somewhere down there. Well, no such luck, Haga Haga was a dead end road with a dozen houses and the lodge we were staying at. Even a desperate plea to the proprietors to buy some of their weed eater fuel didn’t work. Roy referred to the car manual and given the road conditions and distance, he figured we could just about make it back to the highway. If not, he’d wear his runners so he could run there. Great, leave me behind on a dirt road!
Not much happens in Haga Haga, it was pouring rain, but we had a nice cabana and deck, there was a great Saturday night buffet and a bar filled with, as usual, vacationing S.Africans glued to the TV watching rugby. We’ve noticed that people pretty much stick to themselves and don’t go out of their way to socialize, but after dinner Roy befriended a 10 year old boy playing pool so he was happy to have a playmate!
In the morning we took off up and down the gravel road and much to my amazement and Roy’s relief we made it to the unadvertised local hangout/run down store with a gas pump across the highway in the middle of a wooded secluded area that went nowhere. Back on the road again, I happened to notice a little airport, the first that we’ve seen on the trip because recreational flying is not an African pastime. Roy makes a U-turn and we drive up to the gates of this modern looking terminal and tower, huge parking lot with not a single car in it. Out back, 5 flight school Cherokees and one instructor walking around aimlessly. Apparently it was built as a public airport but was never used and is now only a flight school, primarily for training SA air force pilots. Odd the place was built in the first place, because there’s nowhere to go once you’re there anyways. By the looks of it people from King Wiliams Town and Butterworth are not air travelers nor tourist destination points!
Driving in the rain and intermittent fog was taking its toll on Roy so about halfway I took over. The highway has pretty much been a 2 laner, 80 – 100K with cattle and people crossing from one side to the other for who knows what reason considering there’s only pasture and rolling hills. As we approached a town called DUTYWA we saw that both sides of the road was jam packed with double parked 12 passenger vans and people everywhere. As we got into the town center, traffic was down to one lane, almost a grinding halt as we see a massive banner toting, fist shaking, chanting crowd of 100s marching down the street towards us. Again no road blocks, this time the car in front disappears into the crowd not smoke, and now I’ve got the car at a dead stop as we are swallowed up with people all around us. Oh my gosh what are we into now! Turns out it was merely a political party rally running in the upcoming election, not white tourist lynching day! We made it through without a dent or scratch, but Roy said he heard one guy who peered in the window call me “creamy”. Was that a racial slur?
We finally make it to UMNAGAZI river after more long dirt roads littered with loitering livestock and the odd monkey swinging by. And wow, what surprise - the accommodation is yet another resort spa, this time in an oasis jungle, with gorgeous thatched roofed cabanas and outbuildings overlooking the river flowing into the ocean. Swimming pool, tennis court, boats, you name it they had it. Too bad it was pouring rain though, and that I was coming down with the chills and waves of pain in the pit of my stomach. So down and out I am for the night leaving Roy to wander around and dine on his own.
Next morning the sun was glorious and we managed a walk around the beautiful property before having to sadly check out. Chills were gone but the stomach was still wrenching so I was glad our next stop was only 20k away in PORT ST JOHN. More dirt roads with livestock, we arrive at the log cabin facility on beautifully manicured grounds along the Zambezi shark infested river that runs into the ocean. Apparently they hang around the mouth of the river and come upstream to give birth. The proprietor told us about a fatality a few weeks back (we heard about that in Cape Town) and that he often sees cows floating down the river! Needless to say we won’t be doing any river boating or water skiing.
After checking in, we went into town on the opposite side of the shark infested river and wound our way up to an old airstrip on the plateau of the 800 meter mountain where I managed to step close to the sheer drop off edge to take a picture of our place across the river below. On the way back we drove along the towns beach front and saw the oddest sight of cattle laying on the raised sandbar between the racing river and the pounding ocean. Who would’ve thought cows like the beach.
Although the pre arranged accommodations and destinations have been great, I must say the organizer chose sedentary locations ideal for lounging and reading, not for a Type A personality type. That, in conjunction with the rain, me being under the weather, and people generally keeping to themselves, Roy is almost going stir crazy. So much so, that I found him counting the rows of straw in the placemat! Have no fear I told him, 2 more sleeps and we’ll be travelling and tenting with 25 people on safari.
Our last day on the road was about 3.5 hours back to the coast via the secondary road from Port St John that several people advised us not to take. Too many small towns and potential problems apparently. Well, to add excitement to Roy’s day he said we should drive it anyways. Well it turned out to be the most enjoyable trip. More endless rolling lush green hills dotted with colorful villages as far as the eye could see. One really ethnic town we went through was FLAGSTAFF, it was clean and bustling with road side merchants, people smiling at us, waving and all. I really would have loved to get out of the car and mingle about with the locals taking pictures and such, but the confidence just wasn’t there being the only “creamy” around!
So we are at our last S.African destination of SHELLEY BEACH, about an hour away from DURBAN. There is still so much to see in SA and we wished we’d had more time for exploring and to have continued the drive up to Johannesburg. With so many destinations in a 10 day drive, it’s all ready just a blur at times which is why this journal-cum-book, will come in handy as the memory fades even more!
Next stop –Tanzania, til next week,
KnR
It poured rain throughout our last night in KNYSNA, and was cool with gloomy grey drizzle on the morning drive to TSITSIKAMMA , short trip of about 100ks. Tsitsikamma is known as the garden of the garden route, because of its 68 km stretch that is covered in large tracts of indigenous primeval rainforest, and Fynbos (low laying coastal shrubs and proteas). Main attraction is the National Park and abundance of nature hikes, one of which runs 60 km from Storms River to the Indian Ocean and takes 5 days to complete.
We stayed in the village that has 3 merchants, 2 eateries, an adventure center, a few spa like B&Bs, and the Protea Hotel where we were booked to stay. The Protea is SA’s national flower after which the hotel chain throughout SA is named. This location wasn’t typical hotel style, but a white walled property with gazebo entrances and clusters of 2 storey wooden chalets and cabins amidst a wonderful garden. Almost like a village within a village. The place was deserted when we first arrived so we thought there’d be no problem booking the canopy ride (zip line through the forest) and horseback riding as well. But the canopy ride was pre-booked (2 bus loads of Korean tourists were about to arrive) and apparently the horse rides are cancelled when raining. So we just did the 2k hike through the hilly rainforest that, much to our surprise, was totally void of any signs of wildlife. Kinda odd for a nature reserve when the only wildlife noises you hear are coming from the human with me!
Next morning, much to our surprise, the sun was shining bright, a perfect day for a 9 am canopy ride We were the only ones at that hour, I guess it was too early for other tourists or they all went the day before. As apprehensive as I was, the experience was pretty anticlimactic although quite enjoyable zipping through the fresh smelling forest from tree to tree like a monkey.
Before heading out on the road, we went to the National Park that encompasses a marine reserve of 80k long coastline, a 1k hike to the suspension bridge over the Storms River (which we did) and magnificent forests that edge the mix of sand and sharp rocky coastline. Upon closer look of the rocks, Roy informed me that the sharp vertical plates of rock were actually flat laying sedimentary rocks that at some point in time, the plates shifted and pushed the rocks upwards onto their edges. They were quite an amazing sight actually, almost prehistoric.
After a 185km drive we arrived in PORT ELIZABETH, situated in Nelson Mandela Bay, the 3rd largest port and 5th largest city in SA, often referred to as the Friendly City, and the most budget friendly. Can’t imagine it being any cheaper than what we’d experienced thus far. Despite not having a city map and having deviated from the point A to B driving instructions wed been given so Roy could see if PE airport had anything of interest (which it didn’t) we arrived at the 5th Avenue Guest House on Marine without getting lost. It was an absolutely lovely courtyard English manor with 22 rooms and pool, owned and operated by a couple who lived next door and 8 full time staff. The wife, Anthea, a was quite a bubbly and very talkative character, so much so that within 5 minutes of our arrival she had told us how she’s Methodist, her husband Jewish and they were going to Utah for the wedding of their 25 year old chef daughter whose marrying a Mormon whom she had met last year after breaking up with her then boyfriend while travelling in the US and went on to work as live-in chef in a family home who introduced her to a church elder who had a grandson looking for a wife. Hmm, Fundamentalists was the first thing that crossed my mind, but apparently not. That was the first of many chats we had with Anthea, thereafter Roy had tried to steer clear of her as to not engage in never ending conversations. Her husband was quite like Roy, a big kid with bikes, has a glider and other toys, but not a man of many words, not surprisingly!
After tearing ourselves away from Anthea, we decided on a quick walk along the water front to take in some Port Elizabeth sights. The wind however, was so strong , around 70km Roy guestimated, that it was impossible to move, so we high tailed it back to the guest house, sneaking in without being seen by Anthea!
The unfortunate part of this pre-booked kind of travel schedule where you arrive in the afternoon and leave the next day, is that you don’t get the time to see anything which was the case in Port Elizabeth. But, that’s OK, we’re here to see and experience ethnic Africa, not yet another British dominate city. Frankly I’m ready to abandon cups and saucers, traditional English breakfasts, which Roy thoroughly indulges in every morning, and chips with everything. Fish and chip, lamb chops and chips, curried lamb and chips, sandwiches and chips, calamari and chips, and he wonders why his belly isn’t getting any smaller! Mind you I shouldn’t point the finger, I have my own indulgences.
We left the clutches of Anthea, and for the first time in our east bound coastal drive, we headed north/north east into a town called ALICEDALE in the Addo Elephant Park area, about 90 minutes from PE. After a 17k trip down a dirt road we arrived at our destination BUSHMAN SANDS, that, much to our surprise is a new hotel, golf course, game reserve in the middle of a small African town. We were pre booked for a 4:30 game drive which gave us a few hours to chill, Roy to eat, and me to lounge around poolside for the first time since we started this trip.
The 2 hour game drive was quite the adventure. Once again, there was just the two of us, in the open topped safari truck driven by our guide Brian. It was a very hilly and bumpy course but within 100 yards of entering the game reserve, there were the elephants, who apparently Brian said, have been quite elusive of late. Must be the lucky people from Canada he said. Chances are he says that to everyone! Further on into the bumpy journey he pointed out various flora, one intriguing one they call Uphobia, whose long green strands contain a poisonous milky substance that in old times hunters used to poison their arrows with. We also saw zebras, giraffes, rhinos, wart hogs, amazing hip high termite hills – and a few drops of rain as well. Then, with 45 minutes left in the 2 hour drive, the sky opened up, thunder, lightning and torrential downpour. Brian had brought along light weight nylon lined canvas ponchos, just in case it rained, but within 10 minutes they were soaked right through that the nylon lining stuck to your skin. Fortunately we had ball caps on to somewhat protect our faces from the pelting rain while driving, but I felt so sad for Brian trying to maneuver the roads in rain covered glasses. We three were quite the sight when we arrived back at the resort, from the gate staff to concierge they were all laughing at us. Needless to say we gave Brian a big tip ($20) for perseverance.
Although the rain wreaked havoc on us tourists, it was much needed by the area as a severe drought had cause extreme water shortages and drying up of dams. So all in all it was a good thing to have happen and an experience we’re not soon to forget.
Next day, 300k drive ahead of us. One thing we noticed since leaving Port Elizabeth is that we are now travelling through areas that are no longer Afrikaans/Dutch named, but all very British. About 50ks into the drive we stopped in a major town called GRAHAMSTOWN to buy some camera batteries. Its history is that originally settled by 4500 Brits whose intentions were to farm the lush foothills, but they preferred urban life instead and the town became the second largest artisan area next to Cape Town. We drove down Georgian and Victorian period streets, neat as a pin but not a pale face in sight, when all of a sudden we were distracted by groups of really tall young white people out for a run. When the crowd cleared we discovered ourselves approaching a massive Rhodes University smack dab in the middle of the town.
Back on the road with batteries in hand, the highway passes though another British settled town called KING WILLIAMS TOWN, (which was pretty run down and no visible integration) then onto the next town of BUTTERWORTH, a name that brought on the comforting image of Mrs Butterworth’s syrup. Wrong image! The 2 lane highway slowly passes through the several non working street lights of the dirtiest, urban shanty town imaginable. Tipped over trash cans with garbage piled high all over the street corners, bars on windows and people glaring at us as we drive through. The intimidation I feel is due to the fact that we really haven’t determined how the blacks feel after apartheid. Do they embrace their white neighbours and happy travelers just passing through, or is there unspoken resentment lurking below the surface?
Happy that we’re outta there and didn’t need to stop for gas, we continue on the now rainy drive through never ending lush rolling hills of farm land dotted with clusters of aboriginal communities with brightly painted concrete small bungalows and thatched roof round houses. Often you’d see a group of buildings all in the same color, which we figured to be when the family had built more within their property, they kept to the same color scheme, like a familial identifier.
Shortly before our turn off to the day’s destination of HAGA HAGA, I had asked Roy how the gas situation was, to which he replied was “fine”. But, no sooner did we turn off onto the dirt road that said we had 24k to go, the gas light came on. No worries Roy said, surely there’ll be gas somewhere down there. Well, no such luck, Haga Haga was a dead end road with a dozen houses and the lodge we were staying at. Even a desperate plea to the proprietors to buy some of their weed eater fuel didn’t work. Roy referred to the car manual and given the road conditions and distance, he figured we could just about make it back to the highway. If not, he’d wear his runners so he could run there. Great, leave me behind on a dirt road!
Not much happens in Haga Haga, it was pouring rain, but we had a nice cabana and deck, there was a great Saturday night buffet and a bar filled with, as usual, vacationing S.Africans glued to the TV watching rugby. We’ve noticed that people pretty much stick to themselves and don’t go out of their way to socialize, but after dinner Roy befriended a 10 year old boy playing pool so he was happy to have a playmate!
In the morning we took off up and down the gravel road and much to my amazement and Roy’s relief we made it to the unadvertised local hangout/run down store with a gas pump across the highway in the middle of a wooded secluded area that went nowhere. Back on the road again, I happened to notice a little airport, the first that we’ve seen on the trip because recreational flying is not an African pastime. Roy makes a U-turn and we drive up to the gates of this modern looking terminal and tower, huge parking lot with not a single car in it. Out back, 5 flight school Cherokees and one instructor walking around aimlessly. Apparently it was built as a public airport but was never used and is now only a flight school, primarily for training SA air force pilots. Odd the place was built in the first place, because there’s nowhere to go once you’re there anyways. By the looks of it people from King Wiliams Town and Butterworth are not air travelers nor tourist destination points!
Driving in the rain and intermittent fog was taking its toll on Roy so about halfway I took over. The highway has pretty much been a 2 laner, 80 – 100K with cattle and people crossing from one side to the other for who knows what reason considering there’s only pasture and rolling hills. As we approached a town called DUTYWA we saw that both sides of the road was jam packed with double parked 12 passenger vans and people everywhere. As we got into the town center, traffic was down to one lane, almost a grinding halt as we see a massive banner toting, fist shaking, chanting crowd of 100s marching down the street towards us. Again no road blocks, this time the car in front disappears into the crowd not smoke, and now I’ve got the car at a dead stop as we are swallowed up with people all around us. Oh my gosh what are we into now! Turns out it was merely a political party rally running in the upcoming election, not white tourist lynching day! We made it through without a dent or scratch, but Roy said he heard one guy who peered in the window call me “creamy”. Was that a racial slur?
We finally make it to UMNAGAZI river after more long dirt roads littered with loitering livestock and the odd monkey swinging by. And wow, what surprise - the accommodation is yet another resort spa, this time in an oasis jungle, with gorgeous thatched roofed cabanas and outbuildings overlooking the river flowing into the ocean. Swimming pool, tennis court, boats, you name it they had it. Too bad it was pouring rain though, and that I was coming down with the chills and waves of pain in the pit of my stomach. So down and out I am for the night leaving Roy to wander around and dine on his own.
Next morning the sun was glorious and we managed a walk around the beautiful property before having to sadly check out. Chills were gone but the stomach was still wrenching so I was glad our next stop was only 20k away in PORT ST JOHN. More dirt roads with livestock, we arrive at the log cabin facility on beautifully manicured grounds along the Zambezi shark infested river that runs into the ocean. Apparently they hang around the mouth of the river and come upstream to give birth. The proprietor told us about a fatality a few weeks back (we heard about that in Cape Town) and that he often sees cows floating down the river! Needless to say we won’t be doing any river boating or water skiing.
After checking in, we went into town on the opposite side of the shark infested river and wound our way up to an old airstrip on the plateau of the 800 meter mountain where I managed to step close to the sheer drop off edge to take a picture of our place across the river below. On the way back we drove along the towns beach front and saw the oddest sight of cattle laying on the raised sandbar between the racing river and the pounding ocean. Who would’ve thought cows like the beach.
Although the pre arranged accommodations and destinations have been great, I must say the organizer chose sedentary locations ideal for lounging and reading, not for a Type A personality type. That, in conjunction with the rain, me being under the weather, and people generally keeping to themselves, Roy is almost going stir crazy. So much so, that I found him counting the rows of straw in the placemat! Have no fear I told him, 2 more sleeps and we’ll be travelling and tenting with 25 people on safari.
Our last day on the road was about 3.5 hours back to the coast via the secondary road from Port St John that several people advised us not to take. Too many small towns and potential problems apparently. Well, to add excitement to Roy’s day he said we should drive it anyways. Well it turned out to be the most enjoyable trip. More endless rolling lush green hills dotted with colorful villages as far as the eye could see. One really ethnic town we went through was FLAGSTAFF, it was clean and bustling with road side merchants, people smiling at us, waving and all. I really would have loved to get out of the car and mingle about with the locals taking pictures and such, but the confidence just wasn’t there being the only “creamy” around!
So we are at our last S.African destination of SHELLEY BEACH, about an hour away from DURBAN. There is still so much to see in SA and we wished we’d had more time for exploring and to have continued the drive up to Johannesburg. With so many destinations in a 10 day drive, it’s all ready just a blur at times which is why this journal-cum-book, will come in handy as the memory fades even more!
Next stop –Tanzania, til next week,
KnR
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Week 1
Well, here is the first weekly installment. Please excuse the wordiness, my original intent of this blog has since changed to become a journal to save on duplicate writing. Read as much as you like, or just skip through.
The last leg from Amsterdam was brutal, 11 hours in a jam packed 777 where we were like proverbial sardines in a can. 3 more meals, 3 more movies (6 and 6 in less than 24hrs) arrived in Cape Town @ 10:30pm. The tour I had prearranged for the next two weeks is a called a Self-Drive. I told the organizer we had 2 weeks to drive from Cape Town to Durban (1600kms) and they chose the destinations and accommodations along the way. All we do is drive and show up. How easy is that!
Our first 3 days were in Cape Town, which is very British/Dutch, staying at a lovely English style Guest House/BB. First day we hopped on a topless tour bus to see the city and go up to Table Mountain for a gondola ride to the top. It was a magnificent view from up there; to the west, the city below on the Atlantic, and beyond, Robben Island where Nelson Mandela was imprisoned for 27 years; to the south, Cape of Good Hope; and to the east, False Bay on the Indian Ocean. The west coast suburbs south of the city have some pretty high end sandy beach front strips with exclusive condos and houses, primarily vacation property for well to doers from Johannesburg and Europe. Prices range from $200K to $1M, about ¼ what we’d pay at home. By our standards, cost of living is quite cheap. We’re on day 7 now, and our dinner bill has not yet been over $30 including wine, although gas prices are about the same.
On our last day in Cape Town we did a full day guided tour to the Cape of Good Hope Nature Reserve and its diverse habitats. We visited a Jackass Penguin colony and stopped on the road side by a wind surfing spot to see a family of baboons sitting on top several of the surfer’s cars. Although they look like a friendly species, they are quite vicious and will grab your pack or purse to scavenge for sweets and fruit. Down at the Cape Point we stopped for a photo op and hiked up the rocky cliff 800 feet above sea level to the Cape of Good Hope. Another breathtaking view, where the volatile Atlantic and Indian oceans meet.
To end the day our guide had brought along bikes for those of us who wanted to cycle 15kms back to the park entrance. Given there was a 30kn wind, hot and lots of hills, I (being the smart one), opted to stick to the air cond bus, whereas Roy (who would pay for it later), took off with two others. Only one girl made it to the end, but a great effort by Roy who packed it in only 2 or 3 kms short due to the fact that the up hill head wind was too great!
To round off our last night, we went to this fabulous restaurant called Mama Africa’s that was highly recommended to me by a young SA guy working in Sport Check in Langley while Christmas shopping ! It was an African themed rustic restaurant bar on eclectic Long Street, whose entertainment rocked the place. The lead singer had a very unusual tenor voice and mesmerized us with shimmy shakes that rivaled the best Hula dancers and the ability isolate chest muscles to go with the beat of the music. An art form that Roy really wants me to learn!
Next morning our VW Polo (Golf with a trunk) arrived at the guest house for us to start our road journey. We haven’t far to go this day, only 100 kms north east to Franschhoek, which is wine country settled by the 200 French Huguenots who fled to SA in the 17th century to escape religious persecution. With them they brought seedlings and planted Africa’s first vineyard. Well, by the time we got there my nerves were frazzled from Roy’s left side driving. This is Australia all over again – every time a car in the opposite lane comes towards us, he pushes partway over onto the shoulder. It’s really distracting and annoying to say the least going down the highway with a yellow line in front of me! Mind you on highways the paved shoulders are quite wide and are intended to drive on to let people pass.
It was the hottest day so far, a good 40 degrees, and within 1 ½ hours of getting to Franschhoek where we had lunch and one wine tasting, Roy crashed and burned. We checked into our cottage at 2, he slept until 6:30, had the runs and felt over fatigued and chilled. So we determined that he had succumbed to sun stroke brought on by yesterday’s bike ride in the blazing sun and wind and today’s extreme heat. So here we are in the most amazing wine valley where tasting costs a mere $2.50 per person, and Roy’s down and out.
Each of the wineries has their own guest accommodations; we were booked at the Chamonix Winery which has six 1 or 2 bedroom cottages and a fine dining French restaurant. The little 5 block village strip has many high-end West Van style boutiques, sidewalk restaurants, artisans and of course, diamond stores galore, all catering to the wealthy tourist. Not Roy’s scene at all, but given his current state, I was able to stroll and window shop at my leisure!
That evening the heat of the day brought on an amazing thunder storm. Roy was still feeling bagged and didn’t want to stray too far from the loo, so we didn’t go out for dinner. Good thing, because the storm would have wreaked havoc on outside dining anyways whereas we were able to sit out on our little front porch and witness the lightening show under shelter. It only lasted about an hour or so, but several things happened as a result; the fragrance from the surrounding vineyards was amazing, the temperature went down, the humidity up and the mosquitoes came out! Hopefully they weren’t the malaria variety, because I did succumb to a couple of bites despite having repellent on. Guess it’s a wait and see deal now.
Next day, next stop southeastward bound to Mossel Bay, a 350km drive. Leaving the valley was very scenic and the first 50 km had a diverse geography – up onto mountain tops, down into fruit and farming belts, through scrub and plains, sheep farms and foothills. The highlight of the trip though, was off in the far distance we could see smoke and wondered what that was all about.
About an hour later, at a town called Riverdale, we realized we were heading right towards it and could see on the right where the field had been burning and noticed that the fire had jumped the 2 lane road. I was busy taking pictures of the flames on the left, when all of a sudden we find ourselves driving blindly in thick smoke and I look to Roy’s side to see flames 6 feet high on the shoulder beside him. Obviously the fire hadn’t jumped the road, it was in the middle of jumping, and now there were flames on both sides of us! We’re in thick smoke, lost sght of the car ahead of us, didn’t know what we were heading for and certainly couldn’t turn around either. All Roy could do was keep going and fortunately, maybe 200 feet later, we broke through to see the car in front of us, and a road block for oncoming traffic! Hey what about us going east? Where was our roadblock! The car could have blown up in there! Anyways, it was a rather tense 4 or 5 minutes to say the least, Roy’s biggest fear was us succumbing to smoke inhalation.
Pressing onwards, with the new car now smelling like it had been bought in a fire sale (reminded me of Shimmeron’s early days), we arrived at the lodge in Mossel Bay. It was a beautiful setting, and again, primarily a vacation spot that also caters to tourists. One thing we have noticed in our week here, we have yet to run across any North Americans - everyone is either from the UK or Eastern Europe!
Not much else happens in Mossel Bay, it has SA’s only north facing beach, the museum houses a full size replica of the of the Portuguese ship than landed 500 years ago and most excitably (at least for Roy) there’s an outfit called Shark Africa that offers the excitement of a shark cage dive – with Great Whites. He was eager to check it out, although somewhat reluctant because even though the top of the cage is practically at sea level lowered between the pontoons of a catamaran, the water below was 1100 meters deep and thoughts of the cable breaking that suspend the cage was going through his mind! As it turned out, the only available space was the next day at 2, which meant we wouldn’t get to our next destination until dark. Roy wasn’t keen on driving at night, so he passed on the shark dive.
Next day’s destination turned out to be only 100km away, the town of Kynsna, named after the vessel sailed here by the son of King George III. It is about 500 kms east of Cape Town, surrounded by a 17km long lagoon which is protected from the sea by two sandstone cliffs called the Knysna Heads. This is where we are at present for 2 nights, staying in a 1 bedroom condo in the heart of the quays (more shops & eateries) overlooking the canal waterway. As you can see from the pictures, we haven’t been roughing it by any means! I guess that’s yet to come.
We went to a dive shop at the Knysna Heads, but the dive circumstances didn’t thrill us. It was a wreck dive, give or take 2 meter visibility, Great Whites (which apparently don’t bother you) and a huge current. Nope, we’ll pass, save the diving for Zanzibar. But on the way there we did see a golf course and Roy eagerly decided to make a tee time.
Today is our first full overcast day – although pleasantly warm. Forecast is rain along the south eastern coast, the direction in which we are heading. Roy went off to play golf, so once again I have the opportunity to do touristy things around the Quays and surrounding area.
Next stop tomorrow – Tsitsikamma Reserve and a canopy ride/zip ride through the forest!
Til next week, KnR
The last leg from Amsterdam was brutal, 11 hours in a jam packed 777 where we were like proverbial sardines in a can. 3 more meals, 3 more movies (6 and 6 in less than 24hrs) arrived in Cape Town @ 10:30pm. The tour I had prearranged for the next two weeks is a called a Self-Drive. I told the organizer we had 2 weeks to drive from Cape Town to Durban (1600kms) and they chose the destinations and accommodations along the way. All we do is drive and show up. How easy is that!
Our first 3 days were in Cape Town, which is very British/Dutch, staying at a lovely English style Guest House/BB. First day we hopped on a topless tour bus to see the city and go up to Table Mountain for a gondola ride to the top. It was a magnificent view from up there; to the west, the city below on the Atlantic, and beyond, Robben Island where Nelson Mandela was imprisoned for 27 years; to the south, Cape of Good Hope; and to the east, False Bay on the Indian Ocean. The west coast suburbs south of the city have some pretty high end sandy beach front strips with exclusive condos and houses, primarily vacation property for well to doers from Johannesburg and Europe. Prices range from $200K to $1M, about ¼ what we’d pay at home. By our standards, cost of living is quite cheap. We’re on day 7 now, and our dinner bill has not yet been over $30 including wine, although gas prices are about the same.
On our last day in Cape Town we did a full day guided tour to the Cape of Good Hope Nature Reserve and its diverse habitats. We visited a Jackass Penguin colony and stopped on the road side by a wind surfing spot to see a family of baboons sitting on top several of the surfer’s cars. Although they look like a friendly species, they are quite vicious and will grab your pack or purse to scavenge for sweets and fruit. Down at the Cape Point we stopped for a photo op and hiked up the rocky cliff 800 feet above sea level to the Cape of Good Hope. Another breathtaking view, where the volatile Atlantic and Indian oceans meet.
To end the day our guide had brought along bikes for those of us who wanted to cycle 15kms back to the park entrance. Given there was a 30kn wind, hot and lots of hills, I (being the smart one), opted to stick to the air cond bus, whereas Roy (who would pay for it later), took off with two others. Only one girl made it to the end, but a great effort by Roy who packed it in only 2 or 3 kms short due to the fact that the up hill head wind was too great!
To round off our last night, we went to this fabulous restaurant called Mama Africa’s that was highly recommended to me by a young SA guy working in Sport Check in Langley while Christmas shopping ! It was an African themed rustic restaurant bar on eclectic Long Street, whose entertainment rocked the place. The lead singer had a very unusual tenor voice and mesmerized us with shimmy shakes that rivaled the best Hula dancers and the ability isolate chest muscles to go with the beat of the music. An art form that Roy really wants me to learn!
Next morning our VW Polo (Golf with a trunk) arrived at the guest house for us to start our road journey. We haven’t far to go this day, only 100 kms north east to Franschhoek, which is wine country settled by the 200 French Huguenots who fled to SA in the 17th century to escape religious persecution. With them they brought seedlings and planted Africa’s first vineyard. Well, by the time we got there my nerves were frazzled from Roy’s left side driving. This is Australia all over again – every time a car in the opposite lane comes towards us, he pushes partway over onto the shoulder. It’s really distracting and annoying to say the least going down the highway with a yellow line in front of me! Mind you on highways the paved shoulders are quite wide and are intended to drive on to let people pass.
It was the hottest day so far, a good 40 degrees, and within 1 ½ hours of getting to Franschhoek where we had lunch and one wine tasting, Roy crashed and burned. We checked into our cottage at 2, he slept until 6:30, had the runs and felt over fatigued and chilled. So we determined that he had succumbed to sun stroke brought on by yesterday’s bike ride in the blazing sun and wind and today’s extreme heat. So here we are in the most amazing wine valley where tasting costs a mere $2.50 per person, and Roy’s down and out.
Each of the wineries has their own guest accommodations; we were booked at the Chamonix Winery which has six 1 or 2 bedroom cottages and a fine dining French restaurant. The little 5 block village strip has many high-end West Van style boutiques, sidewalk restaurants, artisans and of course, diamond stores galore, all catering to the wealthy tourist. Not Roy’s scene at all, but given his current state, I was able to stroll and window shop at my leisure!
That evening the heat of the day brought on an amazing thunder storm. Roy was still feeling bagged and didn’t want to stray too far from the loo, so we didn’t go out for dinner. Good thing, because the storm would have wreaked havoc on outside dining anyways whereas we were able to sit out on our little front porch and witness the lightening show under shelter. It only lasted about an hour or so, but several things happened as a result; the fragrance from the surrounding vineyards was amazing, the temperature went down, the humidity up and the mosquitoes came out! Hopefully they weren’t the malaria variety, because I did succumb to a couple of bites despite having repellent on. Guess it’s a wait and see deal now.
Next day, next stop southeastward bound to Mossel Bay, a 350km drive. Leaving the valley was very scenic and the first 50 km had a diverse geography – up onto mountain tops, down into fruit and farming belts, through scrub and plains, sheep farms and foothills. The highlight of the trip though, was off in the far distance we could see smoke and wondered what that was all about.
About an hour later, at a town called Riverdale, we realized we were heading right towards it and could see on the right where the field had been burning and noticed that the fire had jumped the 2 lane road. I was busy taking pictures of the flames on the left, when all of a sudden we find ourselves driving blindly in thick smoke and I look to Roy’s side to see flames 6 feet high on the shoulder beside him. Obviously the fire hadn’t jumped the road, it was in the middle of jumping, and now there were flames on both sides of us! We’re in thick smoke, lost sght of the car ahead of us, didn’t know what we were heading for and certainly couldn’t turn around either. All Roy could do was keep going and fortunately, maybe 200 feet later, we broke through to see the car in front of us, and a road block for oncoming traffic! Hey what about us going east? Where was our roadblock! The car could have blown up in there! Anyways, it was a rather tense 4 or 5 minutes to say the least, Roy’s biggest fear was us succumbing to smoke inhalation.
Pressing onwards, with the new car now smelling like it had been bought in a fire sale (reminded me of Shimmeron’s early days), we arrived at the lodge in Mossel Bay. It was a beautiful setting, and again, primarily a vacation spot that also caters to tourists. One thing we have noticed in our week here, we have yet to run across any North Americans - everyone is either from the UK or Eastern Europe!
Not much else happens in Mossel Bay, it has SA’s only north facing beach, the museum houses a full size replica of the of the Portuguese ship than landed 500 years ago and most excitably (at least for Roy) there’s an outfit called Shark Africa that offers the excitement of a shark cage dive – with Great Whites. He was eager to check it out, although somewhat reluctant because even though the top of the cage is practically at sea level lowered between the pontoons of a catamaran, the water below was 1100 meters deep and thoughts of the cable breaking that suspend the cage was going through his mind! As it turned out, the only available space was the next day at 2, which meant we wouldn’t get to our next destination until dark. Roy wasn’t keen on driving at night, so he passed on the shark dive.
Next day’s destination turned out to be only 100km away, the town of Kynsna, named after the vessel sailed here by the son of King George III. It is about 500 kms east of Cape Town, surrounded by a 17km long lagoon which is protected from the sea by two sandstone cliffs called the Knysna Heads. This is where we are at present for 2 nights, staying in a 1 bedroom condo in the heart of the quays (more shops & eateries) overlooking the canal waterway. As you can see from the pictures, we haven’t been roughing it by any means! I guess that’s yet to come.
We went to a dive shop at the Knysna Heads, but the dive circumstances didn’t thrill us. It was a wreck dive, give or take 2 meter visibility, Great Whites (which apparently don’t bother you) and a huge current. Nope, we’ll pass, save the diving for Zanzibar. But on the way there we did see a golf course and Roy eagerly decided to make a tee time.
Today is our first full overcast day – although pleasantly warm. Forecast is rain along the south eastern coast, the direction in which we are heading. Roy went off to play golf, so once again I have the opportunity to do touristy things around the Quays and surrounding area.
Next stop tomorrow – Tsitsikamma Reserve and a canopy ride/zip ride through the forest!
Til next week, KnR
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