Friday, April 9, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
I’m finally home in Cape Town after a long 10 days of travel. To tell you the truth, writing this blog entry has been a bit of a stressor for me because I don’t know where to begin, and I have so much to tell. I’m temped to start at the end of the journey (because obviously that is most fresh in my memory), but I’ll try to remember back. On March 19th (my 21st birthday) I awoke at quarter past five to gather all my things in my dark bedroom, hide my computer and catch a cab to the Cape Town airport with 6 of my best friends that I’ve made here. It was still dark when we reached the terminal and we were all exhausted but eager to start a new adventure. After a day of waiting in terminals, airplane food, and three connecting flights (one of which was on a prop plane), we had arrived in the humid town of Maun in Botswana. We all felt sticky, hot and in need of a real meal. Once we arrived at the hostel, we picked out tents, showered, checked out the outside toilets and headed back into town. Because we were all beat and we had to wake up the next morning at 6:30 to leave for our Mokoro camping adventure, my 21st birthday wasn’t as crazy as some turn out to be. But how many Americans can say they turned 21 in Botswana and drank a Hunters Dry on the plane from Joburg to Maun? Not many.
The next morning we piled into a green, open safari land rover and cruised further into the delta, crossing mini bridges and passing clay huts. What I remember most about the drive was that I kept thinking, “this really feels like Africa.” Little villages consisted of clay huts and women carrying huge loads of sticks on their heads. Donkeys and cows roomed the streets and as we got farther into the bush, where pavement turned to gravel, I saw less people and more tall grass, open space and wildlife. After two and a half hours of bumping down dirt roads we parked at a small opening to water and were greeted by the Mokoro people (locals of the area) cleaning dug out canoes. We said hello, fumbling with the language difference, and they motioned each of us, with our heavy backpacks, into a boat. The whole experience was beyond surreal. Two of us sat in each canoe with one Mokoro in the back who “polled” us through the water. White lilies scattered our path as we followed a maze of tall grass to our campsite. I can’t go into every detail of the 48-hour extravaganza but basically we set up camp, ate delish food our guide (named Abi!) prepared, walked for four hours in the early mornings and evenings and embraced the comforts (or lack there of) of camping.
As our fearless Mokoro guides lead us through the tall, wet grass, the sun peaked out from the horizon and we bumped into a heard of Zebras, some loud hippos, a variety of birds and many unidentifiable footprints. A definite bragging point of the whole adventure was the Black Mamba the Moccoros spotted during our siesta time just hanging out in a tree above out tents. If you don’t know about these snakes, (which I thankfully I didn’t) they are the deadliest and most lethal snake in Africa, and are quite aggressive. Besides getting out of my tent in the middle of the night to pee, which I later found out was incredibly dangerous due to the many hyena and cheetah attacks that occur when its dark, this leg of the trip was a huge success.
Kasane, Botswana was the next stop, and after taking a quick flight we landed in a similar small but hot airport and found our way to our next accommodation – the Toro Lodge close to Chobe National Park. Compared to the buggy tents in the Delta, this place seemed like the Ritz. Since it appeared as if we were the only guess of the lodge, they had bumped down the price, included a buffet breakfast, and upgraded our rooms – not a bad deal. Due to the lodge’s situation on the river signs reading “Beware of Hippos” dotted the premise, while the lady at the front desk warned us of Crocodiles in the water – needless to say, we didn’t jump in. In Kasane we woke early yet again to see the sunrise on a morning game drive. Although we only caught a glimpse of some crocs and hippos in the distance we were happily surprised by elephant encounters at the end. No lions though. In the afternoon we paid 40 pula each (about 8 USD) to go out on a fishing boat as the sunset. Just being on the water was enough for me. While my friends remembered summers of waterskiing and tubing with their families, I searched the placid water for signs of wildlife and watched the sun’s rays seep through a light layer of clouds. Towards the end of our fishing adventure (after not even a bite) our boat driver pushed further down the river to take us to a spot in the water where three countries: Botswana, Zambia and Zimbabwe are supposed to meet. Unfortunately though we began running out of gas about half way up the river and our driver had to make an emergency landing at a nearby hotel… just one out of many close calls on our trip.
The next day we made a quick group decision to leave a night early from Toro and Chobe to stay a night on the Zimbabwe side of Victoria Falls. I think crossing over the Zimbabwe side of the boarder made us all feel a bit more like bad ass backpackers. Bartering with the cab drivers, we got them down to 5USD per person for a 60 km drive to Victoria Falls and our destination – Shoestring Backpackers. Making sure at least two males were in either cab, we crossed our fingers, took a picture in front of the “Welcome to Zimbabwe” sign and began driving. From the boarder to our hostel we only passed one or two other vehicles and it felt like we were traveling through a place of complete seclusion. Fellow backpackers at the lodge actually informed us that they had just missed a lion crossing the road on the same drive a day earlier.
Anyways, Shoestring Backpackers turned out to be a hopping local bar scene at night that was fully equipped with bright colored African designs decorating the walls, a swimming pool and women who tried to sell us cheap manicures and massages – needless to say I was quite temped but held back. After walking around the street for only a few minutes though we could tell Zimbabwe was quite different than any other place we had been thus far. Locals followed our small crew of 7 around asking to please just look at their crafts or their currency they wanted to trade. Everyone seemed so desperate. The local market turned out to be beyond overwhelming and snaking through the lines of venders without getting bombarded with “looking is for free, just take a step into my shop” was impossible.
At night we decided to splurge on an intense African feast at the infamous Boma restaurant. When we arrived the hostess wrapped us each in bright African cloths and seated us in front of drummers and dancers. The meal was a set all-inclusive deal so our group went all out. I tried crocodile and Mompani worms (the latter I received a certificate for of course) while the red meat lovers feasted on antelope, warthog, buffalo and other game meat. The meat station actually reminded me somewhat of an African Fire and Ice, while the salads, breads and vegetable dishes were something out of a gourmet cooking show. By the end of the night we each had our faces painted, fortunes read, and were past satiated.
The next morning, we decided to wake up early in order to see Victoria Falls at sunrise. Clad in bathing suites, flip-flops and cameras we walked down the deserted streets as we raced the sun to the park. After paying the twenty-dollar entry fee, we had the waterfall to ourselves. I purchased a map and we hit 1 through 17 of the Vic Falls viewpoints. By the end of it we were drenched but happy and ready for breakfast. I remember walking back to our hostel, stretching my arms out to let the sun dry me off, and thinking how lucky I was. How many people get to do things like this?
After checking out and waiting an abnormally long time for breakfast, we began the trek across the Zimbabwe boarder into Zambia. With our luggage hanging of every limb, trudged down the long misty road and across the bridge to the other side. On the bridge we gazed down at the rushing river and a quintessential full rainbow. Once we finished snapping photos of the bungee jumpers and the scene we arrived at customs were we had to pay another exorbitant amount of money just to enter Zambia. Following our arrival at Jolly Boys Hostel we checked in, ate free candy and showered for night cruise on the Zambizi River.
Ok, so let me take a bit of a breather – this had been a long recap for me and I have a boatload of other schoolwork I should probably be doing instead, so forgive me if I’m being brief. The next day we signed up for a full day kayak/canoe trip down the Zambezi and apart from a few close calls (which I won’t get into detail in order to save a few of my friends from embarrassment) we all made it out alive. Just a note – we found out from our guide (nick named “Potato”) that about 10 people a year die on these trips, whether it’s from being eaten by a hippo or croc, or being sucked into the falls themselves.
Anyway, because half of us were running short on funds and because I felt quite lucky and satisfied with what I had already done, I opted out of the other expensive tourist attractions and visited an orphanage Sunday afternoon to play with local children and learn a bit more about Zambian culture. After attempting to teach little boys how to play SODOKU and engaging one of the caretakers in a long conversation, my friends and I headed back. We explored a nearby local market, filled with pungent smells of bakeries, raw meat stands, garbage, and smoke, and then ran home as the sun was setting. People in Livingstone whistled at us as we ran by and I couldn’t help but think what a perfect day it had been.
ps. photos to come!
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Alright, so it’s been a while since my last entry – I’ll try to get better at this! Right now it’s a sunny Saturday afternoon and I’m exhausted from the day. This morning I woke up early (after getting in later than expected last night) to do some errands before our excursion to a Stellenboush wine festival. We didn’t really know what to expect but when the bus (filled with abroad) students arrived I felt like I had been transported to fairy land. After paying 50 rand for admission a woman in white handed me a wine glass and pointed me towards a see of crème colored tents, green grass and people. I know my mom would be disappointed to hear that I only sampled the whites, but I guess red is an acquired taste. Little kids skipped around us as we listened to the live jazz band and ate watermelon slices. The scene was perfectly idyllic. After taking typical touristy pictures (as scene above!) we headed back around 3. However the 45 minute bus ride home felt absurdly short because we were all sound asleep, happy and tired.
But I should also catch up on the past week. Last night I accompanied a group of people (most of whom I had never met before) to an Ethiopian dinner spot I had heard multiple good things about. Basically we all paid a 20 rand fee for a meal in this woman’s home. If you’ve never had Ethiopian food before (I hadn’t) it’s a bit hard to describe. The large communal platters consisted of various piles of meat, lentils, spinach and other unidentifiable tastings – all atop this thin spongy bread. You use the bread as a utensil (similar to Nann in India) and its bland flavor is supposed to soak up the tastes of the various dishes. Eating in her home though – 15 exchange students crammed into a smallish living room, was by far the best part. Everything about the whole experience seemed truly authentic – the family photos on top of the TV, the worn couches we sat on and the women’s son that kept popping in and out.
Hmmm… What else? Well I guess this week was most important because I finally figured out what I will be doing for spring break and how I will also get to see my parents. With countless trips to the travel agency in town my flights are booked for Botswana, Zambia and Zimbabwe - although we will only be passing through a little bit of Zimbabwe. Our adventure begins on March 19 – My 21st birthday! I feel beyond lucky to be doing such amazing things.
Right now my room is a mess (surprise, surprise) and I have laundry to put away (after our machine has been broken for 2 weeks!). More to come soon – I promise!
Also, If you are reading this and are not a fan… become one! I would also love home or abroad updates from all!
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Today was the first day I’ve seen rain in Cape Town - just enough drizzle to make me pull out my crinkled rain jacket from the suitcase under my bed before I walked to class this morning. It’s Tuesday afternoon right now and after having class from eight until eleven I have a break and then am going to my first day of volunteering for four hours this evening. This afternoon is just a meet and great but it’s exciting to know that this whole service project is getting underway.
Anyways, before I forget I need to debrief this weekend because it already seems like a long time ago, and if I don’t write about it now than I never will. Friday night, the eve of my friends 21st, a few girls made reservations at the Nelson Mandela Hotel restaurant which was beyond extravagant. It’s one of those places that serves a mini complementary pallet cleanser hors d'oeuvre (a little plop of beef which I didn’t touch), and a sorbet cleanser (that I couldn’t help wanting more of!) between the appetizer and the main meal. When we sat down the waiter even placed my napkin on my lap for me! It took us all a couple minutes to get over the shock of excessiveness, but 21 birthdays are special, and we decided to embrace it. My meal was delish and our splurge seemed acceptable for a rare night.
On Saturday I felt more American than I had in a while. My friend had a joint day birthday party outside there house which consisted of typical American games that included ping pong palls and red plastic cups. We took pictures, played music and grilled – a slice of American college life that made us all feel a bit more at home. As Saturday was the eve of Valentines day, the guests of the day party migrated to a night Valentines themes party equpted with heart shaped cookies and pink beverages. However, I was exhausted and decided to call it a night before the party really started going. Sunday was going to be a big day.
Earlier on Saturday word had spread that some people wanted to hike table mountain the next morning and I was completely sold. As 8am rolled around and my roommates were still sound asleep I hopped out of bed, checked the weather and began texting my friends about our departure time. After paying the cab driver a seemingly lofty fair, five of us were at the trail head by 10am. In the end only 3 of us decided to take on the entire hike, but even though the trail was steep the idea of finishing with a view at the top motivated me forward. Every step I inhaled hot air and sweat gathered on my back. The cloudless sky, although beautiful, made relief from the hot sun a rare commodity, but we occasionally found bits of shade by the rocky ledges. By the end, my calves swelled from the steep climb and my neck had started to burn. However everything was worth it at the top. We had conquered the mountain and looked down, across, back and out at a myriad of outstanding views. I could see the city below and ocean lined with mountains on the opposite side. We walked around the flat top and up to the touristy visitors center. Because of the 80 rand charge and the line by the gondola though, we opted to take the trail back down.
After the hike we bartered for a taxi to Camps Bay, got much needed lunch and plopped ourselves on the sandy beach just as high tide set in. Sunday evening my eyes started drooping around 9 and I was in bed by 10. All in all a great weekend.
Until next time,
Abby
Monday, February 8, 2010
Sunday, February 7, 2010
The Garden Route.
I’ll start from the beginning, getting the car. I guess I was in some seriously brave state of mind because when the German car dealer with the small head and dark brown eyes asked for a registered driver I prompted offered my license and passport number. Luckily one other boy did as well and started the trip out, but I have to admit I was a tad intimidated by the busy Cape Town side streets and oh, the whole driving on the other side of the road thing. Our car of five – me, three boys and one of my closest girl friends here, started out driving the wrong direction, and after a few close calls and an illegal U-turn we were en route to Jeffery’s Bay, home to the Billabong factory, a beach that’s infamous to surfers and our one of a kind youth hostel, Island Vibe.
You would think that a car ride packed with people who only just met and equipped with broken radio might be awkward, but it wasn’t. We talked about our schools, families, past adventures, and the scenery. I drove for about 3 out of the eight hours, narrowly passing a few cars while enjoying this newfound independence.
We arrived hungry and curious at Island Vibe, just after the sun had set. I heard waves on a beach just beyond the deck of the hostel and automatically pictured a perfect beach day tomorrow. A stout woman with a slightly Australian accent who seemed to be the owner toured us around this new hippy heaven. Our 10-person bunk bed room shared a wall with the bar and eating area, but we all knew sleep was not the first priority of such an experience. After batting her lashes, linen with pastel purple liner she pointed us in the direction of pizza with the final words of advice: “Locke your shit up.” We laughed, purchased a lock for 12 rand and ordered our food.
Tuesday was just how I’d imagined – a quintessential beach day. I laid out, investigated Billabong, ran barefoot, collected shells and swam. Some rented surfboards, however I took the cautious rout and saved some rand due to a previous concussion incident during surf school in Florida (a story for another time). The boys bought a soccer ball, which attracted local kids who wanted to play a rugby/soccer game and take pictures. I always find it humbling to know that simply playing a sport can breach a harsh language or cultural barrier.
By the late afternoon we were sun burnt, sandy and sleepy, so we headed back to Island Vibe to take showers and find food. The night was low key, but some how this place, filled with barefoot hipsters, dread locks and surf apparel felt comfortable and oddly safe. Hopefully I’ll get to go back before June.
Our next and last overnight stop was Plettenburg Bay, a ritzier town on the water that felt a bit a little more inhabited. On the way there we made a pit stop at Titsikama National Park for a hike along the Otter Trail to a waterfall and swimming hole. The 6 km trek skirted the waters edge and consisted of stone stepping, ladders and stunning ocean views. We all jumped in the large swimming hole and snapped photos of the whole scene.
Our late arrival in Plettenburg coupled with our healing sunburns made our stay mostly consist of exploring the town, food, more food, and some cheaply priced cocktails. The hostel didn’t have as much life to it as Island Vibe but I guess the low-key atmosphere made sleeping a but easier.
Our final day consisted of paying thirty rand to visit a wolf sanctuary, a pit stop at the Aloe Factory (for a select few group members who desperately needed some healing remedies) and oh, a break down. By three on Thursday we were making good time and jamming to our one CD we brought, while already thinking about the first day of classes. However, our car (nicknamed “McCarthy”) was not doing to hot. McCarthy had always been a bit persnickety on hills and when turning on, but we hadn’t dealt with an overheating problem until we were about two hours east of Cape Town. To make a long story short (because I’ve been writing for a while) we had to wait for about two hours for a tow truck and ended up eating pizza squished in the back of this random but good Samaritan man’s pick up truck. And I found myself adopting a phrase that made me think of traveling with my family – it's all part of the adventure!
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