is a book by Kate Adie. She is a great lady. Kim and I have two copies of her book in hardback and have read a quarter of it between us. But the thought is there and if I read further, I think that Kate and I would find that we are in agreement.
South Africa is full of very nice people. More than twice a bloke has come up to us, when we are looking through the Lonely Planet, and said "are you planning your trip? If I can help at all then give me a shout." Don't remember that happening much in the UK. And the speed with which people have pffered us accomodation at their place is mental too.
Anyway, I'll come back to this, I think. Because it is quality and makes a big difference in a far flung place.
I surfed today. By that, I mean I fell about itnhe waves a lot trying not to get banjoed by small children who were actually surfiong. I also got sunburnt because I am not very clever. Port Elizabeth tomrrow. And we are staying with Gareth's friend Mike. I hope he is nice and not a serial killer. If he is not nice or is a murderer, Gareth's ass is grass and I am a lawnmower.
We are in Bufalo Bay - which is awesome. The backpacker's here is a great place and cheap as you like. Beautiful quiet beach. Clean room and we removed the MASSIVE rain spider from our window so hope it is now arachnid free. Spiders give me the willies and it was a big spider. They don't bite apparently, but they do scare.
Thursday, 26 February 2009
Tuesday, 24 February 2009
Franschhoek
Franschhoek, as the name suggests, has one too many hs in it. But aside for that schoolboy error, it is probably the best place in the whole world.
Kim and I have spent two nights here already and are progressing into our third. I need to try and describe it here, really. We are staying at Chamonix Cottages, which are very nice. The view is very nice and the wineries in Franschhoek are very nice indeed. Now we go east... just kidding.
Neither of us knows diddly about wine – my dad could tell you exactly how little I know about wine and how much this shames him – so I have set about ascending my learning curve with a fervour. In the UK I tend to buy the Sauvignon Blanc with what I deem to be the best looking label at slightly higher than the lowest price. Sometimes I go for Pinot Grigio. More than half of the time we end up with wine that just doesn’t really taste very nice. Maybe there is a better way to choose.
Here we have liked several Chardonnays, which I previously discarded as generally being dirt.
The setting for these tastings varies from an absolutely idyllic winery in glorious Italian/French valley scenery, to, well to another one. Large restaurants of white stone nestle into hillsides amongst the vines and tasteful fountains and whatnot are scattered between umbrella shielded tables for outdoor dining. It may be this that makes the wine taste wonderful, but if so, it doesn’t really matter.
Best of all so far has been the Grande Provence winery, which gave us the best lunch of our lives in the most sublime setting, washed down with the subtlest and most wonderful Chenin Blanc that I have had. And a nice lady let us taste 5 more wines for 15 rand each – a quid to you. Our neighbours for lunch were extremely well to do South African types with leathery skin and the right sort of attire for a hot day in a rich place. At all of these places we have served by coloured (mixed race) people. There are fewer black people here. Not sure why.
When enjoying the wine, I am thinking of people like my dad and brother Al, Gareth and his dad, and Andy Braithwaite from work. These are people who could appreciate what we are appreciating on a deeper level and who would subsequently explode with happiness in Franschhoek. Starting to understand the attraction.
Pete’s comments on Cape Town
Craig was, and probably still is, an awesome sort. He used to play professional cricket. I told him that we were not going to find common ground there because I do not see cricket as a sport as such, so we moved on.
Craig was so cool that he walks up Lion’s Head Mountain every day at about 6am. Lion’s Head is like Arthur’s Seat in Edinburgh only bigger. We agreed that we should go up together and the deal was set. He would even pick me up outside the hotel. I carefully set the alarm for 06:25 so that I would have time to get up and have some water before the walk. Morning came and I strolled outside at 06:45 to make sure I was ready; water in hand and feeling limber.
Then I realised exactly how stupid I was and swore loudly. Yes, I gave the street a hearty “f@?> sake!” before forming a new plan. I had set my alarm an hour late owing to a special, idiotic part of my brain which I call ‘slowtravellerpete’sbrain’.
I started running up towards Table Mountain, hoping to see Craig on the way down so I could apologise. I was fizzing with energy as I had not done much exercise in far too long. It felt great to get going and the slow uphill felt alright, surprisingly. 23 minutes later I was buggered, so I started walking, still on the street up to the hill. When I got up to the split where you can go Table Mountain or Lion’s Head, I went right, thinking “I am thirsty and I left my water at the hotel”. Well done brain. Kept on up and found a dirt track. As I went on I thought I pretty much had to go to the top. Fortunately I met a nice dad on the way up who gave my one of his bottles of water. He had two, because he was not an idiot. And the view was just fantastic.
Kim, by the way, loves WWE wrestling. I may come back to this, but it is important that you just know that.
That is pretty much it, a great view and more importantly, I got off my arse and did something physical, which means I am less likely to go mental for a few days. South Africa is too often in the car or house or mall and you have to plan outdoors stuff. That has been the city experience anyway. I think that rural places are safer.
I will talk about Franschhoek next. Hotdiggetydamn.
Cape Town
So, we arrived in Cape Town (CT) and picked up a hire car. Turned on the sat nav we’d bought in joburg and life was sweet. So great just plugging in the destination and letting GPS do the work. Especially good in a new city. We’ve named the sat nav Barbie, because she is a lady, and because we like Braais (BBQ, Barbie) and because on the plane I was reading an article about 50 yrs of the Barbie Doll. Apparently in the 1970s they shifted her eyes from looking coyly to one side to the modern women who looks you straight in the eye. They also fattened her up a bit because according to the pre 70’s waist and hips measurements she would be too skinny for a period. Fact.
Anyway, we dropped stuff at the hotel (who gave us a free upgrade to a trendy studio flat) then shot up to Table Mountain (or Cable Mountain as Pete accidentally called it – and I won’t let him forget it , ha). Discovered there was a half price deal on cable car tickets that evening, our luck continues! Got to the top and enjoyed AMAZING views and sunset action with a bottle of red wine and a little cheese board. It was special, not in a retarded way, in a lovely way.
Met a nice SA couple on the journey up Cable, sorry Table Mountain. Their mum was with them, she is dating a guy called ‘Bunny’ who is originally from Huddersfield would you believe. I’ve never met anyone called Bunny in my home town Huddersfield, but perhaps Dad or Mark have? They shared some of their picnic with us including delicious chocolate cupcakes from Woolworths. Yes, Woolworths lives on in SA. It is actually confusing as it’s M&S products but called Woolworths. No pick and mix – I checked.
The couple (Lucy and Craig) gave us a lift back to our hotel, but not before a prolonged late night car tour of CT. Unfortunately it was dark so we couldn’t appreciate all the harbours they drove through, but the next day we saw how beautiful it is. CT is a wonderful city, much more chilled than Joburg and felt much safer. Less high electric fences.
Next was a morning kayaking to Boulders Bay to look at the penguin colony. That was fun. Shared a double kayak, pete calls them divorce kayaks, but we managed not to squabble despite his rubbish steering.
Cape Point followed, with stunning coastal views. Bit too many tourists milling around but.
We had a fabulous dinner in a swanky Dim Sum place that night, then headed for the Wine Region...
Friday, 20 February 2009
Kimmy's comments again...
So, now I'm in Joburg airport, awaiting a flight to Capetown. I think some big rubgy team just went on some flight, I have no idea, but everyone was taking pictures of them.
We plan for a couple of days in CT, kayaking to the penguins tomorrow, Table Mountain of course, then heading to the winery. Oh yeah!
Getting in to the swing of things now. My deep seated fear that everyone is going to mug me or something is long gone. People are so friendly and helpful. It really is a happy place to be. Obviously (mum + Janet) I'm keeping my wits about me, but I think UK media have a lot to answer for because it really isnt as they describe.
I'm nervous about starting at the hospital of course, but have been doing some cheery reading (out load on car journeys for pete too) about HIV and TB and Malaria and all the other ways we could die here. Always better to be prepared!
On that cheery note, I'll sign off, Got to board now.
We plan for a couple of days in CT, kayaking to the penguins tomorrow, Table Mountain of course, then heading to the winery. Oh yeah!
Getting in to the swing of things now. My deep seated fear that everyone is going to mug me or something is long gone. People are so friendly and helpful. It really is a happy place to be. Obviously (mum + Janet) I'm keeping my wits about me, but I think UK media have a lot to answer for because it really isnt as they describe.
I'm nervous about starting at the hospital of course, but have been doing some cheery reading (out load on car journeys for pete too) about HIV and TB and Malaria and all the other ways we could die here. Always better to be prepared!
On that cheery note, I'll sign off, Got to board now.
Big Elephant
This thing walked right towards us....I was driving (kim) and wimping out wanting to get the hell outta there and drive on, but we held off a bit for this quality elephant shot before it battered the chico car to bits. He then walked on to a watering hole and we watched him splash cool mud all over himself to cool off. Awesome stuff.
Wednesday, 18 February 2009
Braai the hell not, or, hey, you get off of braai cloud, or, the braai who loved me
And now I am cooking on yet another braai. A braai is like a barbeque, but better. It is better because it is in South Africa.
Sweetcorn. Kim has always been a freakish follower of sweetcorn, but I shy away from the tins and will not accept it on a pizza or in a Subway sandwich (though I take everything else on my Subway sandwich). But when it is charred on a braai, is there anything more perfect? When you melt a knob of butter on it and crunch into the black bits first, can the taste be surpassed? And can I think of any other ways to bang on about sweetcorn? No, on all three counts. No.
Don’t start me on the thin and delectable barbeque steak. The sauce they put on it...
Suffice to say I am having a beer.
And then I put on two potatoes, lovingly wrapped by Kim in tinfoil (the potatoes, not Kim), and put them directly onto the coals. Get out of here. Go home right now and get out of my sight! No, I am not even joking.
The chicken drumsticks here taste better than they do in the UK. Part of it is the sauce that is already on them and part of it is because they are in South Africa.
And the funniest thing is that I am finding it impossible to overcook any of this stuff. You whack it on and leave it there for ages and then take it off and eat it up. Bingo.
The Daily Sun
No, I am not going to bang on about the weather again. It is sunny today though, and I love it!
I spoke to Safiso (you remember, the Soweto guide) about newspapers. He said that the newspapers in South Africa are not left or right wing and do not support any particular party. I don’t believe him, so I am reading them to find out.
Red tops are always a good place to start. The Daily Sun’s tagline is “Make Noise!”. This is always the first of their many exclamation marks. I have always been against the exclamation mark, except when it is really necessary! Inside I was interested to read about some guy who found a curse under his shop. He has had a rubbish time for 6 years, with most of his family dying from really bad headaches and business going sour. The curse (tokoloshe) consisted of “a lizard, a key, a woman’s bra (not a man’s bra), a rat, a baby’s dummy and a human shit!” (their exclamation mark, not mine) and was found under the pavement by a sangoma (I am guessing a witch doctor of sorts). After digging it up, the sangoma burned the evil muthi and everything appears to have been much better since. If anyone puts a poo and a bra under my house I am going to go mental. But, to reflect, this is just the sort of poo that you read in the UK Sun, so that is reassuring, or not. In fact Safiso and I had a discussion about papers. He said that the Sun was full of unbelievable stories. I started off by trying to relate “Freddie Star ate my hamster” and diverted onto that story when they found a double decker bus in the North Pole.
The Sunday Independant is a bit more words, fewer EXCLAMATION MARKS! and quite a lot of odd interest stories. I think it is like the Observer, ie pish. It had a go at Trevor Manuel, the Finance Minister, who is raising some consumer taxes and, interestingly, plastic bags, airport taxes and road tolls. I say “interestingly”, knowing that approximately 1% of my already modest readership will find it interesting, but bugger it, let’s digress:
Driving the 350 odd km from Pretoria to Kruger cost a bit less than a tenner. And all with not one gantry in sight. Massive hard shoulders are abused at will; signposts are pretty good on the whole. When the traffic lights are out at a junction, you just take it in turns. Sarah was a fan of this, but we had a nightmare with it. Ah, the merry banter. Good old DfT.
I spoke to Safiso (you remember, the Soweto guide) about newspapers. He said that the newspapers in South Africa are not left or right wing and do not support any particular party. I don’t believe him, so I am reading them to find out.
Red tops are always a good place to start. The Daily Sun’s tagline is “Make Noise!”. This is always the first of their many exclamation marks. I have always been against the exclamation mark, except when it is really necessary! Inside I was interested to read about some guy who found a curse under his shop. He has had a rubbish time for 6 years, with most of his family dying from really bad headaches and business going sour. The curse (tokoloshe) consisted of “a lizard, a key, a woman’s bra (not a man’s bra), a rat, a baby’s dummy and a human shit!” (their exclamation mark, not mine) and was found under the pavement by a sangoma (I am guessing a witch doctor of sorts). After digging it up, the sangoma burned the evil muthi and everything appears to have been much better since. If anyone puts a poo and a bra under my house I am going to go mental. But, to reflect, this is just the sort of poo that you read in the UK Sun, so that is reassuring, or not. In fact Safiso and I had a discussion about papers. He said that the Sun was full of unbelievable stories. I started off by trying to relate “Freddie Star ate my hamster” and diverted onto that story when they found a double decker bus in the North Pole.
The Sunday Independant is a bit more words, fewer EXCLAMATION MARKS! and quite a lot of odd interest stories. I think it is like the Observer, ie pish. It had a go at Trevor Manuel, the Finance Minister, who is raising some consumer taxes and, interestingly, plastic bags, airport taxes and road tolls. I say “interestingly”, knowing that approximately 1% of my already modest readership will find it interesting, but bugger it, let’s digress:
Driving the 350 odd km from Pretoria to Kruger cost a bit less than a tenner. And all with not one gantry in sight. Massive hard shoulders are abused at will; signposts are pretty good on the whole. When the traffic lights are out at a junction, you just take it in turns. Sarah was a fan of this, but we had a nightmare with it. Ah, the merry banter. Good old DfT.
Hot?
Yes, it is. It is extremely hot. I just went outside to sunbath and verily had to come back in because it is so hot. The only way one is able to cope with this heat is with cold coke and beer. They provide sweet respite so that it is again possible to brave the outdoors. Salty crisps also help, as does the knowledge that I am on holiday and have very little to achieve today. But we must be brave if we are to get a tan. So we soldier on.
It is a sleepy afternoon that we are having today. This is justified as we got up at 03:40 to head to Kruger. When we got to the gate at 04:45 we were told that it was unlikely that we were actually going to be going on our walk because we are not staying inside Kruger. We sat and contemplated how crap it would be to turn around and head home. But then lights appeared and we knew we were on and that the security gate dudes did not know what they were on about (despite quite a measure of certainty, which may well be a South Africa thing).
We joined a group of two guides and 5 others for a walk in the bush. It is at this point that I remembered the text message that my friend Calum sent me days before our departure for SA: “I have just looked up your hospital on Google Maps. You are going to be eaten by a lion.” So we walked in the dim light away from the big pick-up and into the wilderness. Our two be-rifled guides were out front (“99% of trouble comes from the front”, apparently). I was at the back trembling like a small, malnourished girl in the cold (it was not cold).
Actually, before we got away from the motor the guide pointed out a hyena. Right there in front of us, casually walking quite near the dirt track. It was beautiful, with big old ears and a slope from head down to bum. You don’t see much on walking tours because over thousands of years animals have learnt that humans means bangbang (or twangthwack) you are dead. You see more from a car because they have only had 100 years to learn to fear them. So a good start indeed. There followed another hyena, some wee spiders, several impalas (if I see one more impala I swear that I am just going to come straight home), lots of cool birds (don’t know why, but they just don’t do it for me) and the odd zebra. We foraged around in elephant poo, but we could not find the pooer. I really wanted to see a rhino but no joy there either. We stopped on a rocky outcrop for biscuits and juice, which had a magnificent effect on my blood sugar level and, hence, spirits. The view was just like one from Jurassic Park, but there were no dinosaurs. Big David the American – sincere, slow talking – kept spotting things far off: “I think that’s a lion under that tree...”. No David, that is another impala. It has horns and is impala shaped and is not a lion.
So we got back to the vehicle and headed off through 6 million impalas, back to the lodge to drop off half of the party. David and Kim and I shopped for tat before getting back into the motor to go back to the gate.
THEN WE SAW A LION IN A TREE.
The guide slammed on the brakes stammering something about a leopard.
Guide – “I have never seen a lion in a tree in 3 years of guiding. Leopards are in trees, but not lions”
Lady in car – “I come to this park every day for 4 years and I have never seen a lion in a tree”
Me – “It’s a lion in a tree”
Sat there with back legs dangling either side of a substantial limb, left, front leg dangling and head slouched on bent right paw, she was amazing. Occasionally she lifted her big bonce to look about, before resting it back down. It was getting hot, by now. We sat transfixed for a good while, abusing the good David’s binoculars to look into her big lioness eyes.
She then jumped down from the tree and ate Kim, so I hope that Calum thinks that he is really clever, because I don’t.
It is a sleepy afternoon that we are having today. This is justified as we got up at 03:40 to head to Kruger. When we got to the gate at 04:45 we were told that it was unlikely that we were actually going to be going on our walk because we are not staying inside Kruger. We sat and contemplated how crap it would be to turn around and head home. But then lights appeared and we knew we were on and that the security gate dudes did not know what they were on about (despite quite a measure of certainty, which may well be a South Africa thing).
We joined a group of two guides and 5 others for a walk in the bush. It is at this point that I remembered the text message that my friend Calum sent me days before our departure for SA: “I have just looked up your hospital on Google Maps. You are going to be eaten by a lion.” So we walked in the dim light away from the big pick-up and into the wilderness. Our two be-rifled guides were out front (“99% of trouble comes from the front”, apparently). I was at the back trembling like a small, malnourished girl in the cold (it was not cold).
Actually, before we got away from the motor the guide pointed out a hyena. Right there in front of us, casually walking quite near the dirt track. It was beautiful, with big old ears and a slope from head down to bum. You don’t see much on walking tours because over thousands of years animals have learnt that humans means bangbang (or twangthwack) you are dead. You see more from a car because they have only had 100 years to learn to fear them. So a good start indeed. There followed another hyena, some wee spiders, several impalas (if I see one more impala I swear that I am just going to come straight home), lots of cool birds (don’t know why, but they just don’t do it for me) and the odd zebra. We foraged around in elephant poo, but we could not find the pooer. I really wanted to see a rhino but no joy there either. We stopped on a rocky outcrop for biscuits and juice, which had a magnificent effect on my blood sugar level and, hence, spirits. The view was just like one from Jurassic Park, but there were no dinosaurs. Big David the American – sincere, slow talking – kept spotting things far off: “I think that’s a lion under that tree...”. No David, that is another impala. It has horns and is impala shaped and is not a lion.
So we got back to the vehicle and headed off through 6 million impalas, back to the lodge to drop off half of the party. David and Kim and I shopped for tat before getting back into the motor to go back to the gate.
THEN WE SAW A LION IN A TREE.
The guide slammed on the brakes stammering something about a leopard.
Guide – “I have never seen a lion in a tree in 3 years of guiding. Leopards are in trees, but not lions”
Lady in car – “I come to this park every day for 4 years and I have never seen a lion in a tree”
Me – “It’s a lion in a tree”
Sat there with back legs dangling either side of a substantial limb, left, front leg dangling and head slouched on bent right paw, she was amazing. Occasionally she lifted her big bonce to look about, before resting it back down. It was getting hot, by now. We sat transfixed for a good while, abusing the good David’s binoculars to look into her big lioness eyes.
She then jumped down from the tree and ate Kim, so I hope that Calum thinks that he is really clever, because I don’t.
Sunday, 15 February 2009
Shame (Kimmy's comments)
There are lots of funny phrases out here. I already say ‘Ya’ instead of ‘yes’, I’m so in with the locals. Another word is “Shame”, said in a sort of Australian twang. They say it all the time. It sort of means ‘oh what a shame’ but also means ‘really?’. I’m trying to slip it in to conversation but it always seems to sound insincere when I say it.
So, Angelique’s parents Alex and Electra have been so lovely. Electra has traipsed round lots of car places, fed us, given us beer, taken us for dinner, and even let us sleep in her daughter’s room. Then, she announced she has credit to claim on a timeshare just beside Kruger National Park (the number one safari (or bush drive as they say) destination). She has kindly given us a week of free accommodation at a lovely quite swanky bush resort. We are now sitting in this massive thatched house with 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, private braai (BBQ) etc. Pete is loving all the braai action and also the ratio of meat to veg in our fridge. Electra even lent us cool boxes so we can take cool drinks in our car around the park.
We arrived yesterday evening and today went in to Kruger. It only costs about £10 entrance, and we are in a slightly clapped out banger of a hire car, but again, it was super cheap. We drove around all afternoon and saw giraffes eating the leaves high up in the trees, zebra grazing or crossing the road ahead. Some African Elephants having a mud bath, wildebeest looking scary. No sighting of lions or rhinos yet....but we shall get up at 4am tomorrow and go for a sunrise drive to try and find the buggers. Every time I saw a cute baby animal today I was thinking “oh , I hope a lion appears and eats it up right now”...how selfish of me!
So, Angelique’s parents Alex and Electra have been so lovely. Electra has traipsed round lots of car places, fed us, given us beer, taken us for dinner, and even let us sleep in her daughter’s room. Then, she announced she has credit to claim on a timeshare just beside Kruger National Park (the number one safari (or bush drive as they say) destination). She has kindly given us a week of free accommodation at a lovely quite swanky bush resort. We are now sitting in this massive thatched house with 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, private braai (BBQ) etc. Pete is loving all the braai action and also the ratio of meat to veg in our fridge. Electra even lent us cool boxes so we can take cool drinks in our car around the park.
We arrived yesterday evening and today went in to Kruger. It only costs about £10 entrance, and we are in a slightly clapped out banger of a hire car, but again, it was super cheap. We drove around all afternoon and saw giraffes eating the leaves high up in the trees, zebra grazing or crossing the road ahead. Some African Elephants having a mud bath, wildebeest looking scary. No sighting of lions or rhinos yet....but we shall get up at 4am tomorrow and go for a sunrise drive to try and find the buggers. Every time I saw a cute baby animal today I was thinking “oh , I hope a lion appears and eats it up right now”...how selfish of me!
9021Greek
On Friday night we were given the option to a) stay in and sort out our stuff, maybe watch a DVD, b) go back to the mall (we have spent more time in that mall trying to get our computer fixed than I care to think about) to the cinema, or c) go to a mental 21st birthday party at Electra and Alex’s friends’ house.
Let’s go back a few days. I have been neglecting you and A LOT has happened.
Electra and Alex are awesome. They are the parents of a Greek-South African girl called Angelique who Kim knows from doctoring. She is in Glasgow, funnily enough, and hooked us up with her parents. We did have an inkling that it was ‘good to have contacts’ – reference Sarah being amazing and settling us in from the get go.
So Electra and Alex came and got us from the gated community outside Joburg in their Merc and took us to Moyo (googleit). Moyo was a big, mad, posh, African chic restaurant. Alex started to try to teach me about wine and we had a lovely feast and interesting conversation. Both are very easy to talk to.
It was late when we got back to their massive gated house in Pretoria, behind electrified wire and cameras. They have the softest guard dogs in the world. One has tried to lick my legs into submission several times. I am yet to yield.
Thereafter we have spent what seems like several days going around looking at cars and trying to get the computer fixed. This has been pretty knackering and not a little boring at times, especially when you just know how much cool stuff there is to do, but it was all necessary and we are making progress.
We chose c). And ended up in what I must describe as a tasteful Columbian drug-dealer’s mansion. That is not to be unkind to the non-drug dealer host Mike, but it gives the quickest picture. The house, now surrounded by Mercs and BMWs, was chock full of beautiful, wealthy young things (most of whom have had Alex as their paediatrician from birth) dressed Hawaiian-style. For this was Anthula’s 21st and it was not to be done by halves. Tables adorned with big orchids in glass houses, projected images of the kids on the walls… Oh let’s cut to the chase, there was a big free bar.
Speeches were made and they were really thoughtful and nice. Friends and siblings and parents all commented about how great Anthula was and then she stood up. Hers was slightly less cool as she mentioned several times that her sister likes the cakes a bit too much. Maybe it is an in-joke. Anyway overall they were really sweet and demonstrative. And by then I was hammered, so that helped.
Kim popped off to the loo (about which, more later), and at that point, Mike came up and offered to show us his cellar. His cellar (on the first floor) was the best room I have ever known. To get to it, you had to prize open a double cupboard door in a messy IT room. Then another door appeared and through we went. Red brick arches were filled with bottles of red and white, all kept at somethingorother degrees. We walked out with a bottle of Laborie Merlot which apparently costs 24985723409875 rand, or more than seven pounds.
If anyone is not jealous yet, come here and I shall slap you, you are mentally ill.
Mike’s whisky collection was a bit weak to be honest, with several bottles of Whyte and MacKay, but then I know buggerall about wine, so there you go. And he was a nice bloke.
The party raged on below and we rejoined it, with Alex sneaking away to get another bottle of Zsomething (red Sambuca). By now the kids were in a tight circle with some boys doing that Greek stepping-about dance thing. They were already surrounded by debris and added to it by smashing more plates. Not like the old days, Electra told me. No, in old Greece they rarely smashed them on their heads. These kids! The plates were a bit Hollywood, I get the feeling.
Note that I have not yet commented on how awesome it is that Electra is called Electra. Well it is time. What a fantastic name.
Yes we definitely owe Angelique a few pints and I plan to pin her to a chair for several hours whilst I bang on about her fantastically kind parents. Once again I see really good hospitality and I feel lucky / hung over.
Let’s go back a few days. I have been neglecting you and A LOT has happened.
Electra and Alex are awesome. They are the parents of a Greek-South African girl called Angelique who Kim knows from doctoring. She is in Glasgow, funnily enough, and hooked us up with her parents. We did have an inkling that it was ‘good to have contacts’ – reference Sarah being amazing and settling us in from the get go.
So Electra and Alex came and got us from the gated community outside Joburg in their Merc and took us to Moyo (googleit). Moyo was a big, mad, posh, African chic restaurant. Alex started to try to teach me about wine and we had a lovely feast and interesting conversation. Both are very easy to talk to.
It was late when we got back to their massive gated house in Pretoria, behind electrified wire and cameras. They have the softest guard dogs in the world. One has tried to lick my legs into submission several times. I am yet to yield.
Thereafter we have spent what seems like several days going around looking at cars and trying to get the computer fixed. This has been pretty knackering and not a little boring at times, especially when you just know how much cool stuff there is to do, but it was all necessary and we are making progress.
We chose c). And ended up in what I must describe as a tasteful Columbian drug-dealer’s mansion. That is not to be unkind to the non-drug dealer host Mike, but it gives the quickest picture. The house, now surrounded by Mercs and BMWs, was chock full of beautiful, wealthy young things (most of whom have had Alex as their paediatrician from birth) dressed Hawaiian-style. For this was Anthula’s 21st and it was not to be done by halves. Tables adorned with big orchids in glass houses, projected images of the kids on the walls… Oh let’s cut to the chase, there was a big free bar.
Speeches were made and they were really thoughtful and nice. Friends and siblings and parents all commented about how great Anthula was and then she stood up. Hers was slightly less cool as she mentioned several times that her sister likes the cakes a bit too much. Maybe it is an in-joke. Anyway overall they were really sweet and demonstrative. And by then I was hammered, so that helped.
Kim popped off to the loo (about which, more later), and at that point, Mike came up and offered to show us his cellar. His cellar (on the first floor) was the best room I have ever known. To get to it, you had to prize open a double cupboard door in a messy IT room. Then another door appeared and through we went. Red brick arches were filled with bottles of red and white, all kept at somethingorother degrees. We walked out with a bottle of Laborie Merlot which apparently costs 24985723409875 rand, or more than seven pounds.
If anyone is not jealous yet, come here and I shall slap you, you are mentally ill.
Mike’s whisky collection was a bit weak to be honest, with several bottles of Whyte and MacKay, but then I know buggerall about wine, so there you go. And he was a nice bloke.
The party raged on below and we rejoined it, with Alex sneaking away to get another bottle of Zsomething (red Sambuca). By now the kids were in a tight circle with some boys doing that Greek stepping-about dance thing. They were already surrounded by debris and added to it by smashing more plates. Not like the old days, Electra told me. No, in old Greece they rarely smashed them on their heads. These kids! The plates were a bit Hollywood, I get the feeling.
Note that I have not yet commented on how awesome it is that Electra is called Electra. Well it is time. What a fantastic name.
Yes we definitely owe Angelique a few pints and I plan to pin her to a chair for several hours whilst I bang on about her fantastically kind parents. Once again I see really good hospitality and I feel lucky / hung over.
Wednesday, 11 February 2009
Kimmy's comment on museum
Kim here, though I'm considering renaming myself Kimberley since it is a big city here.
Our guide was brilliant. He says BMWs are a status symbol in SA. He says the local guys give them nicknames, for example Black Mans Wish, Bob Marley and the Wailers, Be My Wife, Break My Window and take me home. Hilarious! If you have any other suggestions for BMW please comment!
Our guide was brilliant. He says BMWs are a status symbol in SA. He says the local guys give them nicknames, for example Black Mans Wish, Bob Marley and the Wailers, Be My Wife, Break My Window and take me home. Hilarious! If you have any other suggestions for BMW please comment!
Apartheid was bad
Okay let's just gloss over yesterday. It was poor on many counts and decidedly boring. Exciting points were that I got my phone working and we lost Kim's in a mall, then regained it (only after Sarah's histerical "why have you got my friend's phone!" phone conversation with the guy who found it in the burger joint". We got stuck in crap traffic for over an hour in the rain and then we had pizza. And we didn't find the blasted IT shop so our laptop is still not connecting to tinternet. This is Sarah's - cheers Sarah.
The key thing is that we still have no car, but we are working on it. You need one in South Africa.
TODAY we went out and did stuff, for shizzle. And it was a top, top day. First Soweto and then the Apartheid Museum, abley guided by Sifiso (which I have undoubtedly spelt wrong). He was awesome, driving us about in a wee old red VW Golf.
Soweto was not as bad as I thought it would be. No, I do not want to move there, but I was not as afraid for my life as the media would have me. We didn't get shot once. There was a range of expensive houses down to the wee corrigated iron huts that you see on telly. Not a rabble hoard in sight. Winnie Mandela's house is not very nice, Nelson's is better. Tutu's is silver and shiny, but he doesn't live there any more because some scumbag broke in and stole his Nobel Prize. You would, I do not need to tell you, have to be a complete a-hole to do that. Tutu is hilarious and very adept at taking the piss out of Mandela's crap taste in shirts. He came out and said that Afrikaaners have a place in SA. Not really controversial, but being used for ping pong by the papers and radio pundits.
Sifiso had really interesting chat about the place and merry banter to go with it. And, crucially, he didn't force us to go to all of the tourist stalls around the various sights we stopped at. He reckons Zuma is a 'good man', so we'll see how that goes.
The Apartheid Museum was really, really good. two and a half hours was not enough though. So much to take in there, with a nice mix of video, audio, photo and some hangman's nooses on the ceiling in case you missed the point. Actually the most interesting bit for me was video of white apartheid politicians justifying it (it is really 'just like being neighbourly', apparently) and ANC politicians condemning it (some of the most measured and articulate interviews I have seen, especially in the face of mental adversity). The tour ends with you coming out into a garden, which is a really nice touch as by then you are pretty messed up. I did that thing were I feel funny inside but I do not cry because I am emotionally disabled. Then I compared it with other hilarious destinations I have been like the killing fields and the S-21 prison in Cambodia and the Hiroshima Museum. All were so well thought out. There is also something really compelling about utter bastardliness. And a dose of overcomingness certainly helps.
But anyway, the really interesting part was when we left and got on the N1. Congestion like that at 4pm is a disgrace, and not a gantry in sight. They need our help, they need to open their hard shoulders. That was for my old work colleagues. DfT fo ev a.
The key thing is that we still have no car, but we are working on it. You need one in South Africa.
TODAY we went out and did stuff, for shizzle. And it was a top, top day. First Soweto and then the Apartheid Museum, abley guided by Sifiso (which I have undoubtedly spelt wrong). He was awesome, driving us about in a wee old red VW Golf.
Soweto was not as bad as I thought it would be. No, I do not want to move there, but I was not as afraid for my life as the media would have me. We didn't get shot once. There was a range of expensive houses down to the wee corrigated iron huts that you see on telly. Not a rabble hoard in sight. Winnie Mandela's house is not very nice, Nelson's is better. Tutu's is silver and shiny, but he doesn't live there any more because some scumbag broke in and stole his Nobel Prize. You would, I do not need to tell you, have to be a complete a-hole to do that. Tutu is hilarious and very adept at taking the piss out of Mandela's crap taste in shirts. He came out and said that Afrikaaners have a place in SA. Not really controversial, but being used for ping pong by the papers and radio pundits.
Sifiso had really interesting chat about the place and merry banter to go with it. And, crucially, he didn't force us to go to all of the tourist stalls around the various sights we stopped at. He reckons Zuma is a 'good man', so we'll see how that goes.
The Apartheid Museum was really, really good. two and a half hours was not enough though. So much to take in there, with a nice mix of video, audio, photo and some hangman's nooses on the ceiling in case you missed the point. Actually the most interesting bit for me was video of white apartheid politicians justifying it (it is really 'just like being neighbourly', apparently) and ANC politicians condemning it (some of the most measured and articulate interviews I have seen, especially in the face of mental adversity). The tour ends with you coming out into a garden, which is a really nice touch as by then you are pretty messed up. I did that thing were I feel funny inside but I do not cry because I am emotionally disabled. Then I compared it with other hilarious destinations I have been like the killing fields and the S-21 prison in Cambodia and the Hiroshima Museum. All were so well thought out. There is also something really compelling about utter bastardliness. And a dose of overcomingness certainly helps.
But anyway, the really interesting part was when we left and got on the N1. Congestion like that at 4pm is a disgrace, and not a gantry in sight. They need our help, they need to open their hard shoulders. That was for my old work colleagues. DfT fo ev a.
Monday, 9 February 2009
Kimmys comments
I (Kim) have been granted permission to write occasional bits on petes blog. Sorry for those of you that don't know me, bonus for those that know both of us, 2-4-1 offer !
So, honestly I am a bit shell shocked right now. All this craziness. The enormity of what we've decided to do has hit me right between the eyes. I'm sure I'll adjust though. I think I need some rest. It's great having a buddy to go through it all with, even if he does sweat profuse amounts.
SA mobile is up and running - thanks Neera for that one.
Haven't formed proper plans of what we'll do from here...maybe capetown, maybe port st johns. Who knows.
Next task...finding some 4x4 wheels to take us places...
So, honestly I am a bit shell shocked right now. All this craziness. The enormity of what we've decided to do has hit me right between the eyes. I'm sure I'll adjust though. I think I need some rest. It's great having a buddy to go through it all with, even if he does sweat profuse amounts.
SA mobile is up and running - thanks Neera for that one.
Haven't formed proper plans of what we'll do from here...maybe capetown, maybe port st johns. Who knows.
Next task...finding some 4x4 wheels to take us places...
Moooooooooorningsiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide
We are in Morningside. Those of you who are Scottish will know exactly the accent to say that in, because it is a posh bit of Edinburgh. Basically extend the o and the second i. You also roll the r.
I am smelly and a bit tired.
It is about 11am in Joburg and a bit cloudy. Stormsacomin this afternoon, apparently as per usual.
Morningside is just north of Joburg and seems to consist of lots of massive gated communities chock full of flats. They look like big hotels in the Med, only bigger. We are in the exotic 'Vie Somethingorother'. It is huge and has walls about 12 foot high with razor wire on top. In that sense it differs from Morningside in Edinburgh, but the people are probably better craic here (rib punch to Edinburgh!).
It is great to be here but it is definately wierd, couldn't say it isn't. It is just going to be a very different way of life, especially in this infamous city. I am full to the brim with ignorance and fear, but determined to reverse both of those by learning stuff. I may even read the history of SA book that colleagues at the Dept for Transport kindly gave me.
Kim's friend Sarah is putting us up and came all the way from work between meetings to let us in, after getting us a 'Safe Taxi' to her place. The taxi driver, Baldwin, asked if we have safari in London. I said "sort of". Then we listend to Wackit Something on the radio. He does prank calls. From this I learned that South Africans swear a lot when under stress ("Wackit, you @~?t, man, I am gaa-ing to f@>?ing kill you bro"), and tabloid radio is the same all over the world. He did a pretty good joke interview with James Blunt which made me smile, because James Blunt is bad.
Sarah is very nice. Awesome of her to put us up like this and get us settled in. She is back off to work now so we get time to chill out BY HER SWIMMING POOL. Do not worry about me!
The flight was okay. We got an upgrade by taking my brother's name in vain and begging about volunteer work and stuff. Flight attendant was very discrete, walking us to our new seats and then casually pointing before walking off ignoring us. Our seats were together in Club and had a fully reclining bedwhatsit. Watched a Coen brothers' movie, drank a gorgeous chenin blanc and actually talked to Kim - a rare travelling treat for her. I love BA, there, I said it. The flight was not just okay, it was wonderful.
This is the start of our year in South Africa and what a lovely way to kick it off. Now to wash my sweaty body.
I am smelly and a bit tired.
It is about 11am in Joburg and a bit cloudy. Stormsacomin this afternoon, apparently as per usual.
Morningside is just north of Joburg and seems to consist of lots of massive gated communities chock full of flats. They look like big hotels in the Med, only bigger. We are in the exotic 'Vie Somethingorother'. It is huge and has walls about 12 foot high with razor wire on top. In that sense it differs from Morningside in Edinburgh, but the people are probably better craic here (rib punch to Edinburgh!).
It is great to be here but it is definately wierd, couldn't say it isn't. It is just going to be a very different way of life, especially in this infamous city. I am full to the brim with ignorance and fear, but determined to reverse both of those by learning stuff. I may even read the history of SA book that colleagues at the Dept for Transport kindly gave me.
Kim's friend Sarah is putting us up and came all the way from work between meetings to let us in, after getting us a 'Safe Taxi' to her place. The taxi driver, Baldwin, asked if we have safari in London. I said "sort of". Then we listend to Wackit Something on the radio. He does prank calls. From this I learned that South Africans swear a lot when under stress ("Wackit, you @~?t, man, I am gaa-ing to f@>?ing kill you bro"), and tabloid radio is the same all over the world. He did a pretty good joke interview with James Blunt which made me smile, because James Blunt is bad.
Sarah is very nice. Awesome of her to put us up like this and get us settled in. She is back off to work now so we get time to chill out BY HER SWIMMING POOL. Do not worry about me!
The flight was okay. We got an upgrade by taking my brother's name in vain and begging about volunteer work and stuff. Flight attendant was very discrete, walking us to our new seats and then casually pointing before walking off ignoring us. Our seats were together in Club and had a fully reclining bedwhatsit. Watched a Coen brothers' movie, drank a gorgeous chenin blanc and actually talked to Kim - a rare travelling treat for her. I love BA, there, I said it. The flight was not just okay, it was wonderful.
This is the start of our year in South Africa and what a lovely way to kick it off. Now to wash my sweaty body.
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