The ride on the freeway from Pretoria to Johannesburg takes about 40 minutes, during which time you can see the skyline of the city whose reputation precedes itself opening up and spreading in front of your eyes. It looks so harmless, so ordinary, so dynamic, so human that one just wonders where all the fuss comes from. We've heard different opinions about Jozi from people we have met in South Africa. Tourists and backpackers tend to dismiss Jozi as a “a dump”, “not interesting” or “restrictive”, whereas South Africans who are from there or have lived there most tend to love the place.
“It has so many things going for it – so many things to do, so many places to see! There's always something going on.”
“It's so beautiful. You just need to know where to go. And people are less stuck-up than in the Cape.”
“It's about the only place in South Africa where 'The Rainbow Nation' actually exists to some extent. The cultural mix and vibe are great.”
One thing's for sure: we had been told by everyone that you only get the positives out of it if you know someone and get shown around a bit at least.
We didn't quite have that privilege. Only a vague date with Grant later in the evening, and possibly another even vaguer one with barman Chris from Strand who had re-located his life up here. But first, on our arrival at Park Station on the minibus we had to get to a part of town called Melville (where the backpackers we were going to stay at was) somehow. The minibus taxi driver dropped us off at the corner of one of the many minibus stations around the area where he thought the taxis to Melville would go from. We walked around and asked. Didn't seem like they went from here. We were instructed one block further into the city, behind some buildings next to the station we'd been circulating around. We upped our bags and hiked there and asked around again. Not from here either. Apparently we'd have to find another minibus station completely, and first take a taxi to get there. But poor as we are, we just chose to ask for directions to walk there instead, which we got quickly and easily. So we walked another 10-15 blocks west towards this other station, the heart of Jozi beating around us in true African rhythm. We loved the place instantly: finally we had found the Africa inside South Africa. Music blasting out loud, sellers and hawkers everywhere, foul smells from sewers and sweet ones from fruit stalls, minimal logic in the traffic around these parts but instead endless hooting and yelling from car windows. We passed a few spots which could be considered as minibus “stations” but were always pointed further on, until we got to a big parking hall building. Once inside, no one seemed to have any idea where Melville was, never mind that we'd been pointed this way confidently by everyone on the street. Yep, we were definitely back in Africa. We got helped by a friendly lady, however, who explained to us that no one would know Melville by that name, but that we'd have to ask for a bus towards Cresta (a big shopping mall Northwest from the centre) instead. The only other white person we saw during the entire 1 ½ hour adventure of finding the right minibus sat right next to us, and she was a friendly one too.
So we found the backpackers eventually and paid the going (high) rate of R150 for a dorm bed each. Ouch and ouch, but this is the big city. While waiting for replies from our contacts about the plans to meet up later in the evening, we strolled down the 7th avenue which is the happening street in Melville. We had an excellent pizza, but less than excellent excuses from barman Chris who had had a shit day apparently and therefore wouldn't be up for anything. That's all well and good, but we were opportunistically hoping for a possible ride with him up to Sandton where the date with Grant was to take place. Of course we had been looking forward to seeing him too – before you evil souls go ahead thinking that we are just full-time scroungers these days – but this definitely meant a stick in the works as taxis in Jozi are NOT cheap. Now we'd have to take one all the way across town in the evening time (with higher rates) as well, but with no other plans in the cards and always up for keeping our scheduled dates with friends, we silenced our inner wincing children and paid R120 (after unsuccessful negotiations) to get to Sandton. We had paid R25 each to drive down to Jozi from Pretoria earlier in the day.
Sandton is the new CBD of Johannesburg, complete with the shiny towering buildings and posh neighbourhoods. Therefore showing up at the Baron (which is in fact a rather ordinary chain bar, but just has a very pretentious crowd) in our casual outfits we felt slightly out of place amidst all the suits and dresses prancing around us. “You'll be fine after a few jars, brus. It really gets going later on”, was Grant's reassuring reply to our sarcastic text about feeling rather overdressed. Grant and his friends showed up later and we were fine indeed – apart from when seeing the football scores on TV (France lost to Belarus, and Finland got flattened by MOLDOVA. Thankfully the Italians came on top of Estonia at least). The evening was glorified when an incredible David Villa lookalike made a pass on T. A fact I found so funny I had to text it across South Africa and all the way to Finland as well. Don't ask me why.
Woohoo! Grant DOESN'T have a funny pose on. AND he's smiling.Grant refused to let us pay for another expensive taxi back but instead suggested he drop us off even if he lives in directly the opposite direction. Now, this meant yet another adventure, as the ride up from Melville had taken about 25 minutes in the taxi, and we weren't entirely sure of the route what with our first night in Jozi plus being pissed – and Grant had had a few happy jars himself. We got lost, of course, and ended up first nearly on the freeway and then nearly in Hillbrow (not a very reputable area, in fact quite the opposite). But eventually and after asking a friendly night guard of some country club we found our landmarks and guided ourselves to the familiar petrol station close to the hostel. A traditional night pie and a chat later, Grant took off home where he'd have about two hours to sleep before having to get up and going again in order to attend a wedding (not his own) somewhere in the Karoo. We slept in and did not much the next day. To be precise, we got a minibus taxi to that Cresta mall to get some bus tickets for the night, had a great schwarma each and got back to the hostel to pick up our bags. Early evening we took another minibus taxi to the Park Station in order to catch said bus to Mthatha. Our first visit to Jozi was brief but sweet.
Disclaimer: We didn't get mugged at any point. No one even attempted to look like they might potentially want to mug us. Nonetheless, we were cautious and did not move in town with our camera on us. We look forward to being back and we'll have pictures for you next time.
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