Sunday 19 September 2010

Warning: Boring town ahead

29th August-3rd September – Days 333-338 – Pretoria, South Africa

One of the results of coming back into South Africa through Matsamo instead of Oshoek was that we got another 3 month visa without any trouble. High fives ensued and any thoughts of Inna murdering us for not being in Jo'burg for when she arrived slowly evaporated. Another result of this, however, was that instead of taking a direct minibus to Pretoria, we ended taking a bus to Pigg's Peak, another to Matsamo, walking across the border, another minibus to a mysterious transport station in the middle of nowhere named “Plaza”, another from there to Malelane, where we changed to another one headed to Nelspruit. From there, finally, we boarded a minibus to Pretoria. 10 minutes out of town, one of the passengers started yelling and the others begged the driver to return to town. A crowd gathered to dispense some mob justice as the guy was originally presumed to be a thief. It transpired, though, that he had a history of mental problems and so was not beaten to a bloody pulp in front of our eyes. A Zimbabwean in the front seat claimed that he would have been first in line to give him a battering if it came to that. “My name is Godfrey! But you can call me God, for short.” He was a nice guy. The trip passed smoothly.

In Pretoria, we ended up staying with Christine, who my dad knows through work, and her husband Nik. As we arrived, they claimed that they'd show us to our room but it was more of a small mansion – a lounge, kitchen, bedroom and bathroom right next to a swimming pool. Once again, we were lucky that people have been so kind to us on this trip. We were shown around and ordered to make ourselves at home and a bottle of wine was thrust into our hands. We were back in a world of satellite TV, washing machines and what I believe is the first dishwasher I have seen since setting foot in Africa. The culture shock continues.

Bagsy playing in the back jungl... eh garden.

It seemed that every time we ended up in a place where we could lounge and relax, we had stuff to do. First on the list was to save money for the future by replacing the tent pole that had been destroyed in Mbabane, and Christine drove us around to a few malls before leaving us in a shop where it seemed we could be getting lucky. Not only did they have tent poles but they sold them in pairs, and they only had one left. One of the sole remaining pair was broken and so the guy just told us to take the unbroken one for free. Bonus. It was too long for our tent but that was nothing that Christine and Nik's hacksaw couldn't fix. Not only did I manage to saw the pole to (approximately) the correct length but I also managed to do it without lopping off several of my fingers, which I believe is better than my father has ever managed. I cracked open a beer and sat in front of al-Jazeera news a proud man. Seeing on the news that major deadly riots have erupted in several cities of Mozambique dampened my spirits slightly as we are planning to head there next, but such is life. Ups and downs.

As for Pretoria itself, I am going to have a bit of a tough job being diplomatic. We were staying out in the eastern side of town where there are suburbs reminiscent of those movies you see set out in the boondocks of large American towns. Roads go in a straight line as far as the eye can see in any direction, and without the aid of a set of roadworks on a main intersection close to Christine and Nik's place, I imaging we could easily be wandering around Pretoria well into our late 30s, wondering where the hell we should be going. It quickly became apparent that this side of Pretoria was some sort of Californian implant into South Africa, a town where no-one walks. Pavements only go down one side of the road although, given that we were the only people who walked anywhere, there was very little congestion on them. The prime source of entertainment is traipsing through shopping malls and trying desperately to amuse yourself. Christine had prepared us for this (“You've been to Harare? Well Pretoria is a more boring version of Harare”) as did Nik (“Things to do in Pretoria...? Hmm... I'd say you're probably better off staying by the pool and relaxing”) but we were determined to find something. Christine had told us that we were four blocks from pretty much everything but, of course, this being South Africa's American suburbia, a block was about 5 kilometres long and so four blocks took the better part of a day to walk across. The first day we contented ourselves with a beer at a chain restaurant and, rather than walk another day or so back to the house, we hopped into a minibus taxi and returned to laze at the house.

T and M get back on the straight and narrow.

The second day we managed to do even better – Nik gave us a lift to another mall and we wandered around aimlessly until we stumbled across a shopping mall map indicating that there was some sort of minigolf and we jumped at the chance! In Pretoria, this passes as high quality entertainment. It turned out that this was “Jungle Golf”, probably the most entertaining golf course I've ever played on, and we had a good time. After passing an hour or so there, we went back home again. There was only one set of keys and so we had to get back before the maid left, otherwise we'd be locked out until late evening. And finding something to do in Pretoria until the late evening would have been quite a task, hence the decision to sit by the pool with a beer instead.

What a choice. "As long as you get me outta here!"

"Now this is much more fun!" T's golfing skills are not adjusted to the tropics.

Today's "Spot the Ball" competition.

It wasn't that hard to guess now, was it?

Lazing and doing laundry was useful though, as was managing to watch TV and hence realising that there was a world beyond where we were. One day, we got word from Grant that he was in Johannesburg and so we decided to head down and meet him there. We left a bag in Pretoria as well, which means that for the next month, we will be able to argue over whose turn it is to carry the backpack. High spirited and well-rested, we got to the minibus-taxi station and got moving towards big bad Johannesburg.

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