OK, so he wasn't a baron and the damsel in distress is really me, not some princess in a castle...however, I did escape the clutches of an Austrian so thought the title a bit fitting. As you may have already read, I was traveling with an Austrian gentleman (or not so much of a gentleman) for the first part of my trip. A few days in, it became quite clear that his intentions were not exactly the same as my intentions. Seems that I still have that ole freak magnet charm...sigh...So, after a few days in Udaipur, I decided to subtly - or not so subtly - stage my escape. I simply booked an early morning bus to Mt. Abu and failed to pass the message on to the clingy, freaky Austrian boy. As luck would have it, once he found out my bus time and tried to book the same, there were no more seats. Thus, happy little me sighed with relief and thought that my little hint would be enough and he would continue on somewhere else. Well apparently the not so subtle hint was not taken and gee, gosh, there was a 3:00 bus up to Mt. Abu so he would, after all, be joining me later in the day (the escape part comes later)
The bus was just about as close to hell as you could get - from the 1950s with open windows, a road that was being worked on, too many people and luggage in the aisles. The company was fun though (two Austrian girls, a Dutch guy and another American) so we sucked it up and bounced along joking, coughing and otherwise trying to make ourselves somewhat comfortable. When we arrived our faces were a couple shades darker and our clothes tinged with light brown. It took about 10 washings to get the water only slightly brown and well, that is liveable here. Mt Abu was a very pleasant mountain retreat and actually an Indian holiday place, not a tourist place. It was fun to see that rather than all of the other white tourists. Although, I think I have made it in Bollywood as at every corner someone wants to take my pitcure with them...funny, I think I should start asking them for money since they ask me whenever I want to take a picture of them. Think I could travel my way through India that way - or at least cover half of my expenses. The hostel was really pleasant and it had a nice group of other travelers. We did a hike about the mountains and down to Delwara temple, probaly the most intricate temple I will see along the way. The marble carvers were apparently paid for the amount of dust they created and thus every edge of the temple has some sort of carving - even the ceilings were so intricately carved they should have been on a wall. Unfortunately, we could not bring in our cameras so I don't have any pictures to show for it.
A couple of days there, and then I made my escape. Paul, the other American, was heading to a place called Pushkar. Not originally on my list but lots of people said it was nice so I opted to skip Jodhpur and Jaisalmer and head straight to Pushkar with Paul. Snuck away early one morning before breakfast, booked the ticket, and, ahhh, free and clear! This time for real as the Austrian wanted to head to Jaisalmer. The bus ride down was not much better than the bus ride up. While we were shown a lovely picture of a semi-sleeper coach with somewhat comfy looing chairs, we were actually given another 1950's bus with metal seats (there was a little cushion) and absolutely no leg room or anywhere. At one point during the 10+ hour ride I found myself with my head in the crack of the seat and my legs curled up against me with my feet pushing on the back of the chair in front of me. Not really sure how I got here, but apparently it was more comfotable than the previous position. At about 4:30am we stopped a rest stop with blairing Indian music. Basically this is a Chai stop. Everyone gets out, gets a Chai, stands around for a bit and tries to wake up in the hazy morning (mostly dust haze) then boards the bus for the remaining 1/2 hour. As you can imagine, the bathrooms are just lovely in these places and this is really when I wish I was back in Africa and could just run off to a bush.
AFter being dropped the middle of nowhere at about 5:30am, Paul and I tried, without much energy, to fend off the many rickshaw drivers wanting to take us the rest of the way into Pushkar for 600 rupees. It really does sound tempting at that hour given that we still had to figure out how to get o the local bus and then on to Pushkar. A couple of Spanish girls, who had arrived about 10 minutes earlier, saved the day and helped to negotiate the rickshaw down to 100 to the bus stop. From there, we again fended off more rickshaw drivers who swore the bus did not go from where we were standing or did not go at all until 8:00 am (it was 6:00am). The bus did go (all rickshaw drivers are liars) and we jumped on that. Our next feat was to find a hotel, which we did manage after checking with about 8 others. It was a big of a tough morning but he city was small so we didn't have to drag our things too terribly far. The most annoying thing was the hotel owners from hotels that we did not want to stay in following us around and trying to drag us back to their place.
Once the bags were dropped, we headed off to a breakfast to watch the sun continue to rise over the city. It is a lovely (small) city with a little lake. All of the people were down at the ghats (waterside places to wash) washing and starting their day. It is amazing the riot of colors along the clear water edge (yes, it was actually a clear lake) as all of the India people bath. Their sarees are so incredibly gorgeous, especially in the early morning light agains the white steps of the ghats. Other than that, Pushkar, while supposedly a holy place, was mostly full of touristy shops, tourists and loads of hippies. People seemed to get stuck there for weeks at a time and I am really not sure how as three days was quite enough for me. Guess it might be the Bhang Lassies that everyone is drinking. Bhang Lassies are the Lassies (yogurt drinks, often fruit) made with hash. I would, however, recommended the many falafel stands on the side of the road and the nan wrap that they were making. Food was good and it was pretty quiet (could even hear crickets at night) so we stayed a few days before heading on to face big, bad Jaipur - the pink city, which is where I am currently.
I think I have learned a few things in the past couple of weeks, the most important of which is that bus rides are much worse than the train, especially when they are night buses. Oh, and again, the sleep sheet is the best thing ever!
Next up: Taj Mahal
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
BEEEEEEP, BEEEP, HONK, ONE RUPEE PLEASE, MISS, BEEEEEP..WHERE YOU FROM?
OK, so where shall I begin? I have been in India for a week and it is absolute madness! After standing in line for an entire day in London, getting to the visa person via a system much like a deli counter with 200 people in front of you, and then waiting five days (and $110 later) I walked away with the shiny new full page stamp in my passport. As soon as I had the thing in my hot little hands, I booked a flight to Mumbai (Bombay) as that was the cheapest place to fly into.
Flights were OK, more or less empty, which was a bonus given that I was schedule to arrive at 10:30 at night, which is never a good thing as you become the perfect target for the touts on the street and the taxis that want to take you to their 'special' place. My first impression of India - "Wow, the airport is much nicer than I expected" and, "hmmm, it smells an awful lot like cow manure..." The cow manure was apparently from the many potted plants sitting around baggage claim, clearly to help spruce up the otherwise institutional feel of the place. At least they were trying. From there to my hotel - the Salvation Army Red Shield Hostel (never thought I would stay in one of those) - it was pretty smooth going. The ATM outside didn't quite work the first couple of times for me, but the nice guard helped to work it out and very politely turned away while I put in my pin. From there, I got a pre-paid Taxi to my hotel, which was much easier than any book made it sound. Paid about 40 ir too much but was too tired to care at that point and really it is just under a dollar. Felt pretty good that it was all that I was taken for.
Ride to the hotel was, well, hectic. The drive kept talking to me, which meant that he was turned around facing me and not the road. How we missed the autorickshaws (little three wheeled covered motorbikes), other cars, taxis, cows, moped, motorcycles and people, I do not know. He decided that wasn't working and still wanted to talk to me, so insisted that I move up front. He didn't just want me to move up front, but wanted me to crawl over the seats to the front while the car was still careening down the unmarked lanes of chaos. I insisted that I could not climb over (really that would be un-lady-like and as you all know, I am a perfect lady). So, he solved the problem by pulling over. I wasn't all that chuffed by this but went ahead and got in the front. This resulted in a series of questions ranging from , 'are you married?' to 'how much does a driver make in the US? Can I come be your driver?'
I clearly arrived safely at the hostel as I am still alive and once there, was told that they had no beds (I had a reservation). After a bit of persistence, I discovered that not only did they have the room I booked (and my name on the register) but they had dorm beds available (about 1/4 of the price) that they said were all gone. Goes to show that keeping at it, does help sometimes. So, for about $3.40 I got myself a nice upper bunk. At this point I must thank my father for the use of his sleep sheet cause, well, thus far, I have used it just about every night in India. It is a much required item and I would give up any number of things to make sure I had one of those with me (except my toilet paper, but that is another topic). I felt a bit like I was back in Africa again with all of the confusion.
So, what has the past week really been like? here you go...
HONK, HONK, BEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPP, "Miss, money please", BEEEEEEEEEEP, "Where are you from? What do you think of my country?", Chooo, chooo, chooo, MOOOOOOOO, BEEEEEEEP, HONK, "excuse me?"
In the past week, I almost been run over by several cars, taxis and autorickshaws, gored by a cow (he was simply itching and I was in the way), crammed into a small upper bunk on several trains and booked as an extra in a Bollywood soap opera. Budding star you might say? Well, we will see.
I spent only two nights in Bombay as it was a bit crowded and really, not much to see there. Day one was spent wandering around with a Danish guy and two Austrians. It was nice to have the support of three males around me on my first day as it really did keep everyone else clear of me. The streets were not nearly as crowded as I had anticipated but boy, the noise was deafening. I had a headache from the the moment I woke up. It just doesn't seem to stop and really there is absolutely no where to escape. Day two, was spent getting up quite early to go see a fish market - this was one of the crazy Austrian guy's ideas. We picked out way around the many people sleeping on the street (no mat mind you) and the rats scurrying about to get down to the water by 5:00.
As you can guess, 5:00am and fish is not really the best combination for me. I thought the smells on the streets in general were bad, well, the sewer, manure and rotting food smells with fish guts and you really do have quite a festival going on in your nose - not a good one as you can imagine. I didn't last too long, not due to the fish but due to the fact that I felt like I was going to fall into a pile of them I was so tired. It was nice though seeing the city as it started to wake up and to only have 1/4 of the honking horns going . By the time we headed back to the hostel, the people were getting up, and now they were washing themselves with run-off water coming down the sides of the street. Entire families were outside dousing themselves in preparation for the day.
Back at the hostel, I was trying to re-group and get my head screwed on when one of the proprietors popped his head into the sitting are and asked if I would like to spend my day being an extra in a Bollywood movie/show. Hmmm, what a temping offer - lunch and 500 rupees! Yeah, I'd be rich! Just to give you an idea, 500 rupees is just over $11 so I guess my salary has hit a new all time low or just gone back to the days of mowing laws and weeding gardens. In any case, I decided to take up the offer and check out what the film industry was like in India. After getting dragged off to another town via taxi, local train and rickshaw, we were dropped at a fairly grotty building. We were handed some night club like clothes, for me, this meant a very very short black skirt and a tight black tank top with a purple V neck - not my most glamorous of moments. To top it all off, when it came time for us to "perform", we had to pretend to dance to no music or to the Indian music, which is a challenge in itself. I am sure I looked wonderful. Had to rush out quick quick from the show as had a train to catch...the first one...
Flights were OK, more or less empty, which was a bonus given that I was schedule to arrive at 10:30 at night, which is never a good thing as you become the perfect target for the touts on the street and the taxis that want to take you to their 'special' place. My first impression of India - "Wow, the airport is much nicer than I expected" and, "hmmm, it smells an awful lot like cow manure..." The cow manure was apparently from the many potted plants sitting around baggage claim, clearly to help spruce up the otherwise institutional feel of the place. At least they were trying. From there to my hotel - the Salvation Army Red Shield Hostel (never thought I would stay in one of those) - it was pretty smooth going. The ATM outside didn't quite work the first couple of times for me, but the nice guard helped to work it out and very politely turned away while I put in my pin. From there, I got a pre-paid Taxi to my hotel, which was much easier than any book made it sound. Paid about 40 ir too much but was too tired to care at that point and really it is just under a dollar. Felt pretty good that it was all that I was taken for.
Ride to the hotel was, well, hectic. The drive kept talking to me, which meant that he was turned around facing me and not the road. How we missed the autorickshaws (little three wheeled covered motorbikes), other cars, taxis, cows, moped, motorcycles and people, I do not know. He decided that wasn't working and still wanted to talk to me, so insisted that I move up front. He didn't just want me to move up front, but wanted me to crawl over the seats to the front while the car was still careening down the unmarked lanes of chaos. I insisted that I could not climb over (really that would be un-lady-like and as you all know, I am a perfect lady). So, he solved the problem by pulling over. I wasn't all that chuffed by this but went ahead and got in the front. This resulted in a series of questions ranging from , 'are you married?' to 'how much does a driver make in the US? Can I come be your driver?'
I clearly arrived safely at the hostel as I am still alive and once there, was told that they had no beds (I had a reservation). After a bit of persistence, I discovered that not only did they have the room I booked (and my name on the register) but they had dorm beds available (about 1/4 of the price) that they said were all gone. Goes to show that keeping at it, does help sometimes. So, for about $3.40 I got myself a nice upper bunk. At this point I must thank my father for the use of his sleep sheet cause, well, thus far, I have used it just about every night in India. It is a much required item and I would give up any number of things to make sure I had one of those with me (except my toilet paper, but that is another topic). I felt a bit like I was back in Africa again with all of the confusion.
So, what has the past week really been like? here you go...
HONK, HONK, BEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPP, "Miss, money please", BEEEEEEEEEEP, "Where are you from? What do you think of my country?", Chooo, chooo, chooo, MOOOOOOOO, BEEEEEEEP, HONK, "excuse me?"
In the past week, I almost been run over by several cars, taxis and autorickshaws, gored by a cow (he was simply itching and I was in the way), crammed into a small upper bunk on several trains and booked as an extra in a Bollywood soap opera. Budding star you might say? Well, we will see.
I spent only two nights in Bombay as it was a bit crowded and really, not much to see there. Day one was spent wandering around with a Danish guy and two Austrians. It was nice to have the support of three males around me on my first day as it really did keep everyone else clear of me. The streets were not nearly as crowded as I had anticipated but boy, the noise was deafening. I had a headache from the the moment I woke up. It just doesn't seem to stop and really there is absolutely no where to escape. Day two, was spent getting up quite early to go see a fish market - this was one of the crazy Austrian guy's ideas. We picked out way around the many people sleeping on the street (no mat mind you) and the rats scurrying about to get down to the water by 5:00.
As you can guess, 5:00am and fish is not really the best combination for me. I thought the smells on the streets in general were bad, well, the sewer, manure and rotting food smells with fish guts and you really do have quite a festival going on in your nose - not a good one as you can imagine. I didn't last too long, not due to the fish but due to the fact that I felt like I was going to fall into a pile of them I was so tired. It was nice though seeing the city as it started to wake up and to only have 1/4 of the honking horns going . By the time we headed back to the hostel, the people were getting up, and now they were washing themselves with run-off water coming down the sides of the street. Entire families were outside dousing themselves in preparation for the day.
Back at the hostel, I was trying to re-group and get my head screwed on when one of the proprietors popped his head into the sitting are and asked if I would like to spend my day being an extra in a Bollywood movie/show. Hmmm, what a temping offer - lunch and 500 rupees! Yeah, I'd be rich! Just to give you an idea, 500 rupees is just over $11 so I guess my salary has hit a new all time low or just gone back to the days of mowing laws and weeding gardens. In any case, I decided to take up the offer and check out what the film industry was like in India. After getting dragged off to another town via taxi, local train and rickshaw, we were dropped at a fairly grotty building. We were handed some night club like clothes, for me, this meant a very very short black skirt and a tight black tank top with a purple V neck - not my most glamorous of moments. To top it all off, when it came time for us to "perform", we had to pretend to dance to no music or to the Indian music, which is a challenge in itself. I am sure I looked wonderful. Had to rush out quick quick from the show as had a train to catch...the first one...
So, first train went OK, but I am glad that one of the Austrian guys decided to tag along with me. It was nice to have a male along to help keep down the stares of all the other people on the bus. Took a top bed based on recommendations by others, and that was REALLY a smart move as people can't stare as much and you are above the conversations and the people in the aisles selling everything from the most noisy of kids toys to chains to lock your bags to the bed frames. It was a long night needless to say but the reward at the other end was great. Spent three days in the Aurangabad area to see the "poor man's Taj Mahal" (a smaller copy) and to go to the Ellora and Ajanta Caves. The Caves were amazing and no words can quite describe them. The largest one is 2x the area of the Parthenon in Athens and 1 1/2 times as high. VERY impressive. There are around 34 caves in Ellora and 29 in Ajanta. All hand cut. After that, and taking several buses to get to the various places, I headed up to Jalgon to catch train #2 on to Ahmedabab, where I would change trains and head to Udaipur.
So, 10 1/2 hours later, I arrived in Ahmedabad to the worst traffic jammed, smoggy mess I have ever seen - worse than LA on a good day. So much noise and people and carts and cows and crap (literally) in the streets that I was damn near just heading back to the train station to hibernate. That was really what I wanted but hunger took the best of me and I forged ahead. Note to self, AVOID Ahmedabad at all costs! Three hours later, boarded another train (overnight this time) to Udaipur. It was another 10 hours but since I was half sleeping most of the time it was not too bad.
Udaipur is fantastic...really a very lovely place. It is small, well, in the walled part, and is quite hilly - similar to some of the Greek towns but nowhere as nice - lined with shops and junk that you can buy, which you inevitably do. There is a lake in the center and most restaurants/hostels have rooftops where you can sit, relax and take in the water and the two summer palaces in the center. It really is pleasant and a quiet little retreat for a few days. Have spent the past three days just wandering about, poking in shops, taking a boat trip out to one of the palaces, walking around the main palace and going on a four hour bike ride around the main lake and a smaller lake. Tonight I feel like my legs are going to fall off. The ride was fantastic but the bike, well, it could have used a little update. I think it must have been from the 1920s and all original and not in such good working order. It did its job though and got me through dirt roads, rocks, small channels of water running across the dirt roads, around cars, rickshaws, cows and people and I am still in one piece to tell the story. Don't think I will be doing that again tomorrow.
In any case, I will head off on the morning bus tomorrow to Mt. Abu. I am looking forward to the mountain town and hoping that I might find a little quiet. The hostel I will stay at runs some treks in the evening and morning so hopefully there will be some good hiking.
Alas, that is it for tonight...now it is dinner time and then off to for a good night's sleep.
Monday, February 05, 2007
Another plane...
Well so much for grand plans on a bit update. It is about 3:45am here in London and I am heading to the airport. After a couple of weeks here enjoying being in one place with a proper towel and a bedroom of my own, I am off again....After much patience and finally a visa, I am going to step out of Africa for a couple of months and head to India.
So now, I am off to catch the flight to Mumbai and from there, probably up north but we will see what it looks like once I am on the ground.
So now, I am off to catch the flight to Mumbai and from there, probably up north but we will see what it looks like once I am on the ground.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
The Last of South Africa
Wow, so here we are again. I swore to myself that I would get the South Africa piece finished as soon as my feet were on the ground and I had a computer to use whenever I fancied but alas, that was not the case and today marks a week from the day I left Cape Town. What a shock going from 33ยบ C to snow. Thank god for Sus who showed up at the airport with a big down jacket and a fuzzy scarf in her hands. I was barely out of the arrival gate when she thrust them in my hands and said “You might need these, hon!” Up until then I was just thankful that I had a wool hat, socks, gloves and a scarf packed in my back pack. I am still not sure how they actually made it on the plane back with me and not dumped in a donation pile but I guess somewhere in my little head my brain was screaming, “Keep them, keep them! You are going to London after all”.
Now back to South Africa, which seems so far in my mind these days. We were just about to climb Sentinel Peak in the Northern Drakensberg, I believe. Having acquired our near useless sunscreen we headed off down a dirt road that wound its way around the edges of the mountains and up, up, up to the car park. After signing in – apparently the fog/mist gets quite bad and people often get lost – we were allowed to head through the gates and on our way to the top where we would hopefully see Tugela Falls, the highest falls in Africa, at over 3000 feet (second highest in the world). Sorry if I am repeating myself, I can’t remember what I have already written. The path started out quite easy and in fact, was paved, and then it sort of dropped off and we edged along the mountain up some switchbacks and over a few boulder strewn sections. Along the way we had a huge cobra cross our path. A South Africa walking by swore that cobras couldn’t live this high but after showing the pictures to the guards at the car park, it was confirmed that, in fact, we did see a cobra. It was actually quite beautiful and when puffed, had a bright yellow head/neck with some orange tinges to it. Fortunately he/she was not too bothered by us and slithered across the path and down into some bushes and rocks below rather than stopping and doing the full stand, which would have been quite spectacular.
At the end of the main path, we were presented with a metal ladder that went up a sheer cliff about five stories to a plateau where the falls should be. It actually was not that bad as long as you didn’t look down and realize what you were climbing up. Once on top, there was not a whole lot initially apparent. We could see back to Mont Aux Sources, the source of three major rivers and supposedly the Orange River, which goes all the way to the Atlantic (however, someone told me that this had been proven otherwise). Ahead was, well, open grasslands with a smallish stream/creek running across it. Being the adventurous ones, we decided to follow the river along to the other side. We figured there had to be a waterfall more spectacular than the one next to the chain ladder. And guess what? We were correct in assuming the Tugela falls was on the other side, however we couldn’t see it. Mist and fog was swirling up from the base so thick that all we could see was that the mountain came to an end and we could only hear the falls, not see them. That said, it was still spectacular watching the mist swirl about and clear slightly, giving a small glimmer of hope, only to close again and come rushing in as if to capture and engulf us. We did get a touch of clearing on the way down and were able to see back across the area called The Amphitheatre and realize how high up we actually were. The view was spectacular with bright green patches amidst the dark grey rock and sparking white mist. Best view I have ever had while taking a pee break (OK, you didn’t need to know that now did you?)
We returned to the hostel to a massive thunderstorm, lightening every few seconds followed by thunder and buckets (really) of rain pelting us as we ran across the lawn. It was spectacular to watch. Wayne unfortunately had to head to the airport to go back to reality but I curled up with my latest book, next to an open door, and enjoyed the storm from the dry interior of the building. I wish there was some way to capture it all on film (OK, you can on video but not snapshots). After the storm passed, the evening was clear and fresh, sparkling with the droplets of water still clinging to buildings, chairs, trees and the grass.
Having decided to give the Baz Bus a try – hmmm, should probably back up and explain what the Baz Bus is. Well, some brilliant person came up with the idea of creating a special bus just for backpackers. It goes from Cape Town to Jo’berg and one can either cut through the Drakensberg Range or go up further and through Swaziland. The bus stops at most of the better hostels along the route and if it doesn’t stop there, connects with shuttles to the hostels. The idea is that it is a safe and easy way to travel around South Africa and you never really have to schlep your bags very far as you are almost always dropped on the doorstep of the hostel. That said, you are often stuck to their time schedule and if the bus is full, you have to wait a day or two. On some of the routes, the bus only runs three times a week so you better be pretty happy with the hostel you are at if you have to wait. Reviews from people on it were mixed but in my case, it was the cheapest and easiest way to get from The Amphitheatre to Southern Drakensberg and the Sani Lodge. After giving the Baz a bit of a try, I am not so sure that it was the best way to go as they weren’t that great with info but then again, the mess (OK delay relay) was partly the hostels fault. I also could have made the trip on public transport with little additional money and bought myself an extra day in the Northern Drakensberg
So I wake up happy and excited to go on my next little jaunt. It is a Sunday morning, the sun is shinning and The Amphitheatre mountain range is unbelievably clear and spectacular before me. My morning was spent lounging, journaling and waiting for the Baz Bus, which showed up on time (for once apparently) at around 1:30. When I boarded the bus, I asked if I needed to call to arrange my transport to the Sani Lodge at the other end (Sani Lodge was a bit in the mountains but I really had no idea how far). I was told that no, I should call when I arrive. That bit of info was fine as the hostel had also given me a phone number to call when I arrived and said to call as soon as I got there to arrange transport. So, happy little me goes the two hour journey to Pietermaritzburg thinking that all will be well and when I arrive. I’ll call and wait a bit and then catch the next bus. Well, about ½ hour out from the stop, the girl next to me informs me that Sani Pass is a 2 hour drive from where the Baz Bus drops off. Well, at this point there isn’t much I can do so when we arrive at the drop point, I again as the Baz Bus driver where I need to go to catch the shuttle. He then tells me that gee, it is Sunday and well, the last shuttle would have already gone and that the public mini taxis (my other alternative) don’t have taxis that late on a Sunday and I should just ask the guy running the hostel. Funny, I thought it was Sunday two hours ago as well, hmmm, maybe not! Why he didn’t say that it was Sunday earlier and that I should plan on staying in Pietermaritzburg, I do not know. Or why the hostel, when I told them how and when I was arriving in Pietermaritzburg, didn’t say, Oh, gee, it is Sunday, you must wait until Monday, I am also not sure. Seems to be very typical in Africa, only providing half information and then when you speak with them later, they say “oh, yes, of course, that is right”, as if it was quite odd that you didn’t know in the first place.
In any case, the hostel manager was quite nice and helped me sort things out but it did mean that I had to stay the night there and get up bloody early the next day to get on a local taxi. So, early the next morning a Dutch girl (also in the same boat) and I got up early to head to the local taxi stand where we were smashed into a little white mini van. Since we were so early (well really on time but the bus won’t leave until it is COMPLETELY full) so we ended up sitting there for about an hour until the van was as packed as possible with four people per row and loads of luggage piled on top of our laps. Murielle (Dutch Girl) and I were lucky in that being so early we were able to stash our bags below our seats before anyone else could. It was quite a long drive and, as is always the case in local transport, the gentlemen between Murielle and I (we both took window seats) had quite a fragrance about them – not of roses in case you were wondering. The man next to Murielle kept stretching his arms out across the back seat wafting his odour across the entire row while the man next to me was quite happily dozing on my shoulder as I tried to get my head out of the window in hopes of fresh air.
Two hours later and with limbs that no longer wanted to function, we were unceremoniously dropped at the town of Underberg. From there we were supposed to call the hostel and have them pick us up. Well, we did call and alas, they had no driver for the day. Again, why they didn’t tell us this the day before when we both called (separately and at different times I might add), we will never know. They told us to take local transport. We trudged along back the way we came to the local transport stand and had a right difficult time of finding the taxi we needed. We finally broke down and ask a woman who turned out to be a Canadian aid worker. She helped us find the taxi but then told us it was completely full and that we would have to wait until who knows when to pick up the next taxi. It could have been hours. I think our crestfallen looks made her take pity on us and she offered to drive us to the lodge. She did, though, comment a number of times about how she shouldn’t do it as this wasn’t actually her car but an aid car but well, she offered so I guess we can’t feel too bad.
Finally I arrived at Sani Lodge (yeah!) it was incredibly beautiful there and very very different from the Northern Drakensberg which was massive mountains jutting out of the flat valley. Here the mountains rolled up and up and up until they hit Lesotho, the highest country in the world, which is why many people come to this area – to head up Sani Pass. That was mostly why I was there but also to see how different it looked from the Northern part. My plan was to take a trip the next day up to Lesotho through the Sani pass and then to spend the next day hiking. Well, the hostel decided to cancel their trip to Sani Pass and Lesotho as they didn’t have enough people. Just my luck I was thinking as it had been a trek to get there and then my one big thing in the area was shot to hell. Oh well. The hostel booked me on another company’s trip, which was shorter and, of course, much more expensive. At that point, I figured that I had gone all that way and I was damn well going to make it to Sani Pass and Lesotho.
My first day in Southern Drakensberg I spent on an incredible five hour hike through a valley, up a mountain, across and plain and finally down to a river with waterfalls and crystal clear pools to swim in. It was quite enjoyable and a lovely way to spend the afternoon walking about in the lush scenery and splashing in the pools. Thank god for the map/directions that they gave me, though, as I might never have returned. There were a number of spots where the trail became quite questionable and I wandered aimlessly for a bit until I found some landmark or the other that was noted on the directions. A machete might have even been useful in a few spots. I don’t think the trail is used very often, which made it all the more lovely.
The next day, I joined the group up through the Sani Pass to Lesotho. It was quite the road. You really do actually have to have a 4x4 to make it there. Often roads said you needed them but if you drove slowly, you could get by. This road – no way! It took about an hour and a half to wrap our way up the switchbacks over the boulder strewn road and when we finally got there, we were all so jostled we could barely stand. At the top, we spent some time visiting a Lesotho village and seeing how these mostly nomadic people live. Basically we were at a small village/rest post type place where the traders, shepherds and traders stopped on their way up or down to Underberg. Huts were made of grass with grass and cow dung mixed floors (no, they didn’t smell). They were quite small but had a cozy warm feel to them. The lady who hosted us gave us some local beer to taste and some bread. The bread was fantastic but I can’t say that I would go back for another sip of the local beer. It was a weird yeasty, vinegary smelling concoction that was milky tan colored if that makes any sense at all. A German woman on the trip gave some kids balloons and it was great watching them play. She had to explain to them how to blow the balloons up and before you knew it, 10 kids were standing there in their blankets (that is what the Lesotho people wear as part of their clothing) blowing as hard as they could into these brightly colored plastic things. A number of them were quite successful. After we had lunch in the highest pub in Africa and watched the locals wander about and the clouds shift in and our covering the road down and then revealing the horror of it again.
Back down safely, I spent my last night at the Sani Lodge enjoying a home cooked meal (of my own doing) and talking to a Korean guy and British woman. The next day, I began the adventure back down the hill to the hostel in Pietermaritzburg where I would catch the Baz Bus to Durban. The ride down was much more pleasant as Murielle and I caught a lift with a local errand runner and it was just the two of us smashed together in the front seat on the trip down rather than us with a whole bus load of people and their bags. Had a bit of a layover when we got to town but managed to fill some time with internet, reading and just wandering about to see what Pietermaritzburg was all about. Nothing much really. I had one quite night in Durban and then was off the next morning to Cape Town for my final five and a half days.
Cape Town was lovely and I had expected that five days would be more than enough to see and do everything that I wanted to do (especially since I had already spent a few days there). In reality, I probably could have spent another three days wandering around. I didn’t scrape the surface of the museums available and only managed Robben Island and District Six museum. Neither of which was very uplifting in terms of what the blacks and coloreds (they are different) had to endure at the hands of the white South Africans. Robben Island is where all of the political prisoners (Nelson Mandela being the most famous) were kept and District Six is an area of Cape Town where the blacks and coloreds lived and which the whites decided they wanted. The blacks and coloreds were relocated to Townships outside of town that barely had facilities to support them. The land was never built on by the whites and still sits empty just outside of downtown. They have recently started initiatives to get the land back to the rightful owners, but as expected, this moves quite slowly. The rest of my time was spent chatting with other people at the hostel, looking for jobs in the wine industry, wandering around the city, going on hikes, checking out the beach areas and trying to get last minute souvenirs. Funny, that doesn’t sound like it should have taken up five days…guess I did do a lot of just walking and looking and enjoying the nice warm (and sometimes too hot) weather.
So now, I am in London at my lovely friend (and ex tent mate from Africa) Sus’ house. We are just outside of central London in an area called Dulwich. It is quite lovely and have everything you could need most importantly the local “spit and sawdust” pub (as Sus would call it). I am currently working on my next steps and will have to update you on that later as I have now filled four and a half pages in a word doc and don’t think I can write any more or have you read any more for that matter!
PS - several pics posted below (five I think).
Now back to South Africa, which seems so far in my mind these days. We were just about to climb Sentinel Peak in the Northern Drakensberg, I believe. Having acquired our near useless sunscreen we headed off down a dirt road that wound its way around the edges of the mountains and up, up, up to the car park. After signing in – apparently the fog/mist gets quite bad and people often get lost – we were allowed to head through the gates and on our way to the top where we would hopefully see Tugela Falls, the highest falls in Africa, at over 3000 feet (second highest in the world). Sorry if I am repeating myself, I can’t remember what I have already written. The path started out quite easy and in fact, was paved, and then it sort of dropped off and we edged along the mountain up some switchbacks and over a few boulder strewn sections. Along the way we had a huge cobra cross our path. A South Africa walking by swore that cobras couldn’t live this high but after showing the pictures to the guards at the car park, it was confirmed that, in fact, we did see a cobra. It was actually quite beautiful and when puffed, had a bright yellow head/neck with some orange tinges to it. Fortunately he/she was not too bothered by us and slithered across the path and down into some bushes and rocks below rather than stopping and doing the full stand, which would have been quite spectacular.
At the end of the main path, we were presented with a metal ladder that went up a sheer cliff about five stories to a plateau where the falls should be. It actually was not that bad as long as you didn’t look down and realize what you were climbing up. Once on top, there was not a whole lot initially apparent. We could see back to Mont Aux Sources, the source of three major rivers and supposedly the Orange River, which goes all the way to the Atlantic (however, someone told me that this had been proven otherwise). Ahead was, well, open grasslands with a smallish stream/creek running across it. Being the adventurous ones, we decided to follow the river along to the other side. We figured there had to be a waterfall more spectacular than the one next to the chain ladder. And guess what? We were correct in assuming the Tugela falls was on the other side, however we couldn’t see it. Mist and fog was swirling up from the base so thick that all we could see was that the mountain came to an end and we could only hear the falls, not see them. That said, it was still spectacular watching the mist swirl about and clear slightly, giving a small glimmer of hope, only to close again and come rushing in as if to capture and engulf us. We did get a touch of clearing on the way down and were able to see back across the area called The Amphitheatre and realize how high up we actually were. The view was spectacular with bright green patches amidst the dark grey rock and sparking white mist. Best view I have ever had while taking a pee break (OK, you didn’t need to know that now did you?)
We returned to the hostel to a massive thunderstorm, lightening every few seconds followed by thunder and buckets (really) of rain pelting us as we ran across the lawn. It was spectacular to watch. Wayne unfortunately had to head to the airport to go back to reality but I curled up with my latest book, next to an open door, and enjoyed the storm from the dry interior of the building. I wish there was some way to capture it all on film (OK, you can on video but not snapshots). After the storm passed, the evening was clear and fresh, sparkling with the droplets of water still clinging to buildings, chairs, trees and the grass.
Having decided to give the Baz Bus a try – hmmm, should probably back up and explain what the Baz Bus is. Well, some brilliant person came up with the idea of creating a special bus just for backpackers. It goes from Cape Town to Jo’berg and one can either cut through the Drakensberg Range or go up further and through Swaziland. The bus stops at most of the better hostels along the route and if it doesn’t stop there, connects with shuttles to the hostels. The idea is that it is a safe and easy way to travel around South Africa and you never really have to schlep your bags very far as you are almost always dropped on the doorstep of the hostel. That said, you are often stuck to their time schedule and if the bus is full, you have to wait a day or two. On some of the routes, the bus only runs three times a week so you better be pretty happy with the hostel you are at if you have to wait. Reviews from people on it were mixed but in my case, it was the cheapest and easiest way to get from The Amphitheatre to Southern Drakensberg and the Sani Lodge. After giving the Baz a bit of a try, I am not so sure that it was the best way to go as they weren’t that great with info but then again, the mess (OK delay relay) was partly the hostels fault. I also could have made the trip on public transport with little additional money and bought myself an extra day in the Northern Drakensberg
So I wake up happy and excited to go on my next little jaunt. It is a Sunday morning, the sun is shinning and The Amphitheatre mountain range is unbelievably clear and spectacular before me. My morning was spent lounging, journaling and waiting for the Baz Bus, which showed up on time (for once apparently) at around 1:30. When I boarded the bus, I asked if I needed to call to arrange my transport to the Sani Lodge at the other end (Sani Lodge was a bit in the mountains but I really had no idea how far). I was told that no, I should call when I arrive. That bit of info was fine as the hostel had also given me a phone number to call when I arrived and said to call as soon as I got there to arrange transport. So, happy little me goes the two hour journey to Pietermaritzburg thinking that all will be well and when I arrive. I’ll call and wait a bit and then catch the next bus. Well, about ½ hour out from the stop, the girl next to me informs me that Sani Pass is a 2 hour drive from where the Baz Bus drops off. Well, at this point there isn’t much I can do so when we arrive at the drop point, I again as the Baz Bus driver where I need to go to catch the shuttle. He then tells me that gee, it is Sunday and well, the last shuttle would have already gone and that the public mini taxis (my other alternative) don’t have taxis that late on a Sunday and I should just ask the guy running the hostel. Funny, I thought it was Sunday two hours ago as well, hmmm, maybe not! Why he didn’t say that it was Sunday earlier and that I should plan on staying in Pietermaritzburg, I do not know. Or why the hostel, when I told them how and when I was arriving in Pietermaritzburg, didn’t say, Oh, gee, it is Sunday, you must wait until Monday, I am also not sure. Seems to be very typical in Africa, only providing half information and then when you speak with them later, they say “oh, yes, of course, that is right”, as if it was quite odd that you didn’t know in the first place.
In any case, the hostel manager was quite nice and helped me sort things out but it did mean that I had to stay the night there and get up bloody early the next day to get on a local taxi. So, early the next morning a Dutch girl (also in the same boat) and I got up early to head to the local taxi stand where we were smashed into a little white mini van. Since we were so early (well really on time but the bus won’t leave until it is COMPLETELY full) so we ended up sitting there for about an hour until the van was as packed as possible with four people per row and loads of luggage piled on top of our laps. Murielle (Dutch Girl) and I were lucky in that being so early we were able to stash our bags below our seats before anyone else could. It was quite a long drive and, as is always the case in local transport, the gentlemen between Murielle and I (we both took window seats) had quite a fragrance about them – not of roses in case you were wondering. The man next to Murielle kept stretching his arms out across the back seat wafting his odour across the entire row while the man next to me was quite happily dozing on my shoulder as I tried to get my head out of the window in hopes of fresh air.
Two hours later and with limbs that no longer wanted to function, we were unceremoniously dropped at the town of Underberg. From there we were supposed to call the hostel and have them pick us up. Well, we did call and alas, they had no driver for the day. Again, why they didn’t tell us this the day before when we both called (separately and at different times I might add), we will never know. They told us to take local transport. We trudged along back the way we came to the local transport stand and had a right difficult time of finding the taxi we needed. We finally broke down and ask a woman who turned out to be a Canadian aid worker. She helped us find the taxi but then told us it was completely full and that we would have to wait until who knows when to pick up the next taxi. It could have been hours. I think our crestfallen looks made her take pity on us and she offered to drive us to the lodge. She did, though, comment a number of times about how she shouldn’t do it as this wasn’t actually her car but an aid car but well, she offered so I guess we can’t feel too bad.
Finally I arrived at Sani Lodge (yeah!) it was incredibly beautiful there and very very different from the Northern Drakensberg which was massive mountains jutting out of the flat valley. Here the mountains rolled up and up and up until they hit Lesotho, the highest country in the world, which is why many people come to this area – to head up Sani Pass. That was mostly why I was there but also to see how different it looked from the Northern part. My plan was to take a trip the next day up to Lesotho through the Sani pass and then to spend the next day hiking. Well, the hostel decided to cancel their trip to Sani Pass and Lesotho as they didn’t have enough people. Just my luck I was thinking as it had been a trek to get there and then my one big thing in the area was shot to hell. Oh well. The hostel booked me on another company’s trip, which was shorter and, of course, much more expensive. At that point, I figured that I had gone all that way and I was damn well going to make it to Sani Pass and Lesotho.
My first day in Southern Drakensberg I spent on an incredible five hour hike through a valley, up a mountain, across and plain and finally down to a river with waterfalls and crystal clear pools to swim in. It was quite enjoyable and a lovely way to spend the afternoon walking about in the lush scenery and splashing in the pools. Thank god for the map/directions that they gave me, though, as I might never have returned. There were a number of spots where the trail became quite questionable and I wandered aimlessly for a bit until I found some landmark or the other that was noted on the directions. A machete might have even been useful in a few spots. I don’t think the trail is used very often, which made it all the more lovely.
The next day, I joined the group up through the Sani Pass to Lesotho. It was quite the road. You really do actually have to have a 4x4 to make it there. Often roads said you needed them but if you drove slowly, you could get by. This road – no way! It took about an hour and a half to wrap our way up the switchbacks over the boulder strewn road and when we finally got there, we were all so jostled we could barely stand. At the top, we spent some time visiting a Lesotho village and seeing how these mostly nomadic people live. Basically we were at a small village/rest post type place where the traders, shepherds and traders stopped on their way up or down to Underberg. Huts were made of grass with grass and cow dung mixed floors (no, they didn’t smell). They were quite small but had a cozy warm feel to them. The lady who hosted us gave us some local beer to taste and some bread. The bread was fantastic but I can’t say that I would go back for another sip of the local beer. It was a weird yeasty, vinegary smelling concoction that was milky tan colored if that makes any sense at all. A German woman on the trip gave some kids balloons and it was great watching them play. She had to explain to them how to blow the balloons up and before you knew it, 10 kids were standing there in their blankets (that is what the Lesotho people wear as part of their clothing) blowing as hard as they could into these brightly colored plastic things. A number of them were quite successful. After we had lunch in the highest pub in Africa and watched the locals wander about and the clouds shift in and our covering the road down and then revealing the horror of it again.
Back down safely, I spent my last night at the Sani Lodge enjoying a home cooked meal (of my own doing) and talking to a Korean guy and British woman. The next day, I began the adventure back down the hill to the hostel in Pietermaritzburg where I would catch the Baz Bus to Durban. The ride down was much more pleasant as Murielle and I caught a lift with a local errand runner and it was just the two of us smashed together in the front seat on the trip down rather than us with a whole bus load of people and their bags. Had a bit of a layover when we got to town but managed to fill some time with internet, reading and just wandering about to see what Pietermaritzburg was all about. Nothing much really. I had one quite night in Durban and then was off the next morning to Cape Town for my final five and a half days.
Cape Town was lovely and I had expected that five days would be more than enough to see and do everything that I wanted to do (especially since I had already spent a few days there). In reality, I probably could have spent another three days wandering around. I didn’t scrape the surface of the museums available and only managed Robben Island and District Six museum. Neither of which was very uplifting in terms of what the blacks and coloreds (they are different) had to endure at the hands of the white South Africans. Robben Island is where all of the political prisoners (Nelson Mandela being the most famous) were kept and District Six is an area of Cape Town where the blacks and coloreds lived and which the whites decided they wanted. The blacks and coloreds were relocated to Townships outside of town that barely had facilities to support them. The land was never built on by the whites and still sits empty just outside of downtown. They have recently started initiatives to get the land back to the rightful owners, but as expected, this moves quite slowly. The rest of my time was spent chatting with other people at the hostel, looking for jobs in the wine industry, wandering around the city, going on hikes, checking out the beach areas and trying to get last minute souvenirs. Funny, that doesn’t sound like it should have taken up five days…guess I did do a lot of just walking and looking and enjoying the nice warm (and sometimes too hot) weather.
So now, I am in London at my lovely friend (and ex tent mate from Africa) Sus’ house. We are just outside of central London in an area called Dulwich. It is quite lovely and have everything you could need most importantly the local “spit and sawdust” pub (as Sus would call it). I am currently working on my next steps and will have to update you on that later as I have now filled four and a half pages in a word doc and don’t think I can write any more or have you read any more for that matter!
PS - several pics posted below (five I think).
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