Ahhh, how we had not missed night buses. Arriving at Durban bus station at 8am after a night of old school van Damme movies and interrupted sleep, and being woken up by fellow passengers who wanted to get past my legs sticking out from the row of benches I'd grabbed reminded me quickly of what exactly we had been doing for eight months before getting into South Africa. Somehow we had managed to escape all the roughness of travelling while being here, so after just one semi-standard night we were weeping like little kids at the end of the summer when the theme park closes its doors for the season. A coke and a ciggy later, however, we were back in form and arguing over the price of the taxi into town in good old fashion. It was only after I phoned up the Happy Hippo backpackers to inquire about space and what the taxi ride there should cost that we bent over and agreed to pay what was rightfully asked from us the first time round. Old habits die hard.
A short while later we'd deposited our stuff in the dorm and started exploring Durban by going around the corner and into the uShaka Marine World, not to see the sharks or anything but just for some overpriced breakfast in one of the cafés. The area around the Hippo seemed slightly devoid of commercial activity apart from an Engen garage and the uShaka so the choice was taken to upgrade the breakfast from GIY (grab it yourself) pies to served sandwiches on this grey and miserable morning. During the World Cup Durban had been loudly and proudly advertised as the city with only two seasons: summer and summer. Excuse me, Durban and your precious promoting committee, but that is a big load of kak. On our first two days here we were wrapped up in sweaters and scarves strolling along the beachfront under black skies and struggling against horizontal sea “breezes”, seeking shelter anywhere that would provide us with a pint and an indoor smoking area.
M's hair enjoys a gentle sea breeze. Who needs 'strong-hold'!On our first night here, Thursday, we were doing this at the rooftop terrace bar of the Hippo (with canvas walls to shield against the wind) and met an Englishman called Stuart with whom we ended up chatting away and keeping our blood warm by consuming a few beers. At slightly past dinner time o'clock we went hunting for some South African food and ended up doing a ridiculous tour around town in a taxi and ending up within walking distance in a local butchery. Stuart was in SA doing the practical part of his medical studies and had spent the past few weeks in Kokstad, but hadn't tasted bobotie (basically curried mince with raisins and rice baked in a pot) yet so this was on his list of things to taste before leaving. Obviously, the butchery didn't serve any bobotie but we ended up having a hearty braai with pap and salad instead – and eating with our fingers for the first time in SA as well. For the second time in a day we had a flashback to our previous months of travel.
Stuart's lifelong ambition: to appear on our blog (ahead of getting married and working in Mauritius).Back at the Hippo bar later on, we stumbled across one of the great phenomena of the trip for me. Sitting at the bar there was a calm and relatively quiet fair-haired young man minding his beer and engaging in some chatter with the bar lady. As we kept swooshing past him on a few occasions in order to get more beer from the bar, we got to talking terms with him as well. “Where you from then?”, we blurted out the most-heard phrase of backpackers' places. “Finland”, he blurted back. Whaddawheredahowdahell? The first Finn!!!!!! I started blabbering excitedly in Finnish and the guy just looked at me as if he had no clue as to what I was saying. Just when I thought he'd been winding me up and only said he was Finnish for the test of it – as he'd probably heard already two hours ago where I'm from – he grinned so widely it was unmistakable that he had in fact understood every word I said. The thick Tampere (a.k.a. the Manchester of Finland) accent he answered to me in confirmed this. Just as unmistakably, I noticed I've been out of Finland for too long to catch the domestic drags any more. So there we go, this was how we met Erno, the first Finn of the trip. About bloody time.
Erno wasn't alone either. The next night we got introduced to his friend Riku, an equally refreshing sight with his southwestern accent and frequent cultivation of the unique Finnish humour together with Erno. The two of them were here on a two-week holiday tour after their four-month internships in Swaziland, coincidence of coincidences. As T and I needed to get to Swaziland next anyway (to escape SA before the expiry date of our visas), and the guys were heading back there to pick up their stuff before flying back home, we all formulated a plan to rent a car together and drive it to Swaziland on Sunday. Afterwards, we played drinking games to celebrate this fact. The same games we already started playing before securing the plan. The night continued happily into wee hours (again) as we were playing pool – Erno at one point chasing everyone away from the table while gate crashing a game and insisting semi-violently that he should pot everyone's balls – and having lengthy Finglish conversations at the bar three hours after closing time. Erno, always the philanthropist, also trekked to Steers next door at 3am and bought a burger meal for the security man while getting one for Riku and himself.
Introducing the Finns: Erno and Riku. Veljekset kuin ilvekset.During the course of our evenings at the Hippo we had all made friends with the bar lady, Lynette. She had been touring the Finnish guys around Durban on one of the days already and suggested we all come see a game of egg chasing (i.e. rugby) with her and a friend on Saturday. T and I spent the day walking around in the centre of Durban, which included admiring the biggest mosque in the southern hemisphere (not very big) and checking out the market on Victoria St. Frankly, Durban isn't a very interesting city unless you're here for the beach, so the highlight of the day for us was when we were sitting at the ABSA Stadium with Lynette & Co. plus the Finns yelling “Proooooooooooooviiiiiiiiiiince!!!!” and trying to keep hold of our pints while looking steeply down onto the field.
Window shopping at Victoria St. market. All the salespeople were women.
Riku eyeing out Moses Mabhida.It was Natal Sharks vs. Western Province Stormers, and we were instructed to support the Stormers as Lynette and her friend Wayne (and about three other people inside the stadium) were supporting them. The Stormers are usually at the top of the table, whereas Sharks are fairly average, but of course to honour our presence, the Stormers went ahead and lost. Oh well. It was our first live rugby game, and we all know how first times go. To save us from too much disappointment over what Durban had offered to us so far, Lynette and Wayne took us out for some nightlife. The Finns stayed back as they were still trying to recover from the previous night and saved themselves from a lot of gay old fun as well as from spending a decent amount of cash. After having had to listen to one guy's endless jitters over his sweet and cute and hot lover from Cape Town, and later been instructed about where the ATM was by another because we skipped him on the last round of drinks we bought but got one for his friend (who had actually got us a drink first), we started feeling rather worse for wear – especially as Lynette had been left behind at some point by Wayne who never picked her up again after she went to take a quick shower at home. There's also only a certain limited amount of Madonna one can take in one evening. Wayne kindly dropped us off afterwards and we tucked in like no tomorrow.
Rugby virginity gone forever. "Can someone explain why the crossbars are so low?"
Apartheid is NOT dead.
Wayne and Lynette, our initiators to the gentlemen's sport.The next morning the Finns were gone. We woke up at the agreed time but couldn't find them anywhere at the Hippo and there was no answer at the door of their room. Just when we were wondering what to do next Lynette arrived in order to take us all to the airport to pick up the rental car as had been planned. She couldn't believe the guys would have done such a dirty on us, and so couldn't we. We had two days to be out of South Africa before the end of our visa and here we were, sitting at the Hippo with our plans trashed and 700km away from the border. An hour later the Finns rocked up the stairs with bags from Spur (steakhouse/diner chain) greeting us cheerfully. “Oh yeh, maybe we should've left a note or something to say that we've just gone out to get breakfast”, was their side of the story. Phew, phew and phew, I tell ya.
A speedy and breezy ride to the airport followed, and so began the hunt for the rental car. Riku and I were sent in as the battle horses to make the inquiries and the booking while Lynette was driving the bakkie around the parking lot depending on which agency we went into, as she wasn't allowed to park anywhere else apart from where the business was being made. T hiked to get soft drinks and Erno kept Lynette company while staring into space, still looking slightly weak from two nights ago. Riku and I finally emerged from one of the agencies not entirely sure as to which kind of car we had bagged. I hadn't caught the make from the clerk's thick accent and Riku thought we had rented a Toyota Avensis, but the paperwork just said 'Avanza'. It had been the cheapest deal for 4 people with heaps of luggage so we had taken it. Now all we had to do was to bloody identify it from the rows and rows of parked cars. Once we found the spot we noticed we'd actually got quite a beast! It was a five-door high-clearance automobile with one of those large spaces in the back instead of some Asian blender-and-vacuum cleaner-in-one-compact-size which we were expecting to see. Erno stuck the GPS to the front window, T changed it kindly from French to Finnish, and off we swerved listening to directions given in the smooth tone of Matti (about as standard as a Finnish man's name gets)! Lynette waved us goodbye and welcomed us back to Durban any time. “Honestly, I could definitely use some more straight conversation!!”
It didn't take long until Matti started playing tricks on us, telling us to “Stay on the right. – After 200m, turn right. – Then turn right.” Also we tended to end up getting off the freeway for no apparent reason only to make a U-turn in order to get back on the freeway. When Matti guided us down some farm's driveway, and we couldn't stop the giggles for about 15 minutes, it was time to re-tune the cursed device and to find the problem. Apparently we had chosen the shortest route when walking instead of driving. Zzzzzzzz. A few adjustments later we were back on the right road and heading into the right direction: the Swazi border.
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