Seriously Stranded, Episode 1

10^th June - 14^th July – Days 253-287 – Stories from Strand, South Africa

For the first few weeks of the World Cup, we were stuck in Strand, for many reasons. Firstly, we didn't have a car to move around quickly and efficiently (not that we would be quick or efficient even if we had a car). Secondly, we wanted to watch all of the games and (for the most part) failed to get up long before the first games started. Hence for the entirety of the first and second rounds we were either: a) sitting on the couch watching football; or b) sitting at the Seafarer watching football. During this time we were either a) drinking beer or b) eating popcorn/crisps/biltong/other unhealthy snacks or, occasionally c) eating something relatively healthy. The anti-health drive far outweighed the health drive though (as it should when one watches football for a month) and so our only other activities of these few weeks were a) watching our stomachs slowly expand and b) watching France and Italy, our chosen teams respectively, crash out amid dire performances. As a sideshow, we got to know the interesting characters introduced in the previous post, enjoying many hours of drunkening and utterly pointless conversations which no-one outside of Strand would find interesting in the least. Hence we will gloss over most of them.

The Frenchies are on the cusp of embarrassing themselves. Again

One person who appeared to disapprove of our behaviour on regular occasions, bizarrely, was Stompie, the owner of the Seafarer. We quite quickly made friends with all the barstaff and most of the regulars and so were often left to prop up the bar at the end of the evening, after the lights and music had been switched off, chatting with Carl or Chris or whoever else happened to be around and owned a pair of ears. Stompie would then emerge from his office and shepherd us out, sometimes with more urgency than others, at one point physically manoeuvring M through the door and closing it in her face. Our first such episode of many was very early on in our stay where M had become slightly inebriated and had developed a sudden urge for something to happen, as anyone who has been inebriated would know. This urge was to hear a song by her favourite band The Killers, and as time went on it developed into an obsession, culminating at 2am when, as usual, the lights and music had been switched off and Carl was already wearing his jacket and was ready to go home. A shrill voice suddenly rang across the bar - “I'm NOT leaving until you play THE KILLERS!!!”. Stompie decided that this was enough and emerged from his office like a bull teased with a red cloth, and M was quickly ejected from the premises. Stompie's efforts to rid his bar of us was always a source of great amusement although, given that we probably single-handedly provided him with a generous pension plan for his older days, we didn't really understand it. We had a good laugh about it anyway.

M demonstrates the art of healthy eating (after healthy drinking) by destroying a packet of biltong in record time

In Finland, as is well known, a deal struck in a sauna is one that cannot possibly be reneged on by either party. As Finns generally like to drink quite a bit before and after going to the sauna, you would have thought that they would be well-versed enough to avoid striking potentially poor deals in a state of inebriation. Apparently this is not so. “Chris the Yank” presented himself as an amateur artist and his pictures, which he enjoyed touching up at the bar, seemed extremely well drawn. M then struck a deal with him to draw a picture of Dixon. He agreed, then did pictures of all three of us and, for some reason, we paid for them all. A closer inspection revealed to us that they were probably printouts which had been gone over with charcoal. They will hang on our walls as a reminder. Be careful who you deal with. We didn't see much of Chris the Yank after that.

Having nothing to do - the mother of artistic expression. M takes a break between games

Seriously Stranded

10^th June - 14^th July – Days 253-287 – Stories from Strand, South Africa

Introducing South Africa's greatest soap - “Seriously Stranded”

A selection of characters from the Strand soap opera.

Carl

Occupation : Barman

Repertoire of jokes : Large (almost entirely sourced from sickipedia.com)

Quality of jokes : Poor (probably due to poor sourcing)

Generosity as a barman : Extreme. A lot of free shots “on the barman” came our way and the majority of our over-the-top evenings came as a result of Carl's benevolence rather than the amount of beer which we bought ourselves. Probably done so that we would laugh at his jokes.

New shot added to repertoire : Galliano hotshots, learnt from M. “This is great, it's much cheaper!”

Amount of abuse taken from M : Much. Most notably, “Fuck off you fuckhead” was hurled across the bar as Carl insulted M's Italian football shirt. In the eyes of most of the bar, his comment was entirely justified but M took it rather badly.

Worst shot ever poured : A full metal jacket with low amounts of “nitro” cinnamon liqueur and large amounts of Stroh rum, which took us many minutes to recover from.

Loves : Pouring/suggesting full metal jackets (even incorrectly), Liverpool F.C., Spain's national football team, redheads (and mistaking non-redheads like M for redheads)

Hates : Ginger liqueur, misplacing his vuvuzela, being disastrously hungover the day after the World Cup Final due to excessive celebration of Spain's victory in the guise of “Spain-O-man”, his destructive cape-toting alter-ego.


Sparky

Occupation : Electronic Mr. Fix-it of doubtful repute

Lifelong Ambition : To fix M and T's laptop, despite the fact that they kindly turned the offer down when the price descended to 2 pints of beer.

Appearance : Overgrown.

Worst Investment : A second-hand TV which he promptly dropped and broke.

Wants to learn : To speak Danish

Loves : Fixing things, his collection of sticks which he always carries around (“cos if I get mugged I can whack them on the head, grab their knife and stab 'em in the shoulder!”)

Hates : Going out without a stick, elevators and the Table Mountain cable car


Chris

Occupation : Barman

Abuse suffered from M : “You're a baaaaaaaad barman!!!” for refusing to buy her shots “like Carl does”

Favourite line to use with M : “Finish your bloody beer, woman!”

Person who he thinks has a secret agenda for him : M (surprisingly, given the above)

Appearance : Always dressed in a stripy rugby-style shirt/sweater, usually wearing a baseball cap

Loves : Argentina's football team, Afrikaner rap (much to the disdain of the rest of the bar staff), Shakira's song “Waka waka” (much to the disdain of the rest of the bar staff)

Hates : Being called “Carl”, being tricked into playing the Vengaboys, losing to T at the immense bar video game “11-Up”


Chris

Occupation : Unknown.

Nationality : American

Claims as a part-time occupation : Artist. That, despite the fact that his drawings appear suspiciously similar to photo print-outs.

Recent customer : M, who ordered art from him while drunk.

Ability to repay borrowed money : Low.

Claims that he quit his previous occupation : Because he was kidnapped by Nigerian gangsters and forced to dig his own grave while an AK-47 was repeatedly fired above his head.

Secret pride : How many swear words his 11-year old son learnt from “Team America” and how they were recycled in the presence of said son's grandmother.

Loves : reciting tales of adventure (not always entirely believable), playing on the Seafarer's slot machines, his son

Hates : Authority, being wrongly sent to jail (apparently), having his artwork accidentally set on fire.


Warren

Occupation : Tattoo artist.

Appearance : Mick-Jagger-esque

Has an uncanny ability to : Pass out in bars having consumed very little, leaving himself open to being used as a “buckaroo” stage by fellow bar patrons.

On one such occasion, was : Not woken up by a vuvuzela blown in his ear at very close range.

On the same such occasion, was : woken up in hilarious style by a kiss on the cheek from M.

Loves : Guy Ritchie, Quentin Tarantino, engaging everyone in conversation (while still awake).

Hates : Seemingly nothing.





















Jason

Occupation : Accountant

Learnt from T : The entire history of the Balkans in one particularly long and probably rather boring session

Has taught T and M : The definition of the Afrikaans word “kak”.

Wears : Football jackets of both teams playing during World Cup games, so that he can claim victory whatever happens

Is jealous of : M and T's ability to remember scores from obscure football matches of many years ago

Is very generous with : Giving lifts to Cape Town for those without vehicles (such as T and M)

Loves : The “San Francisco Spur” restaurant's R59,99 rib special, older women, golf.

Hates : Losing R1000 bets, EJ's bar (“Ach, that bar is kak”)


Estelle

Occupation : Barlady

Style as a barlady : Extremely enthusiastic

Rarely seen : not smiling

Noted exception to this : Disappointment expressed when T failed to win the “poncho challenge”, a lottery where one gains one entry per 5 shots of “poncho” coffee tequila drunk.

Loves : Winning on slot machines, when people drink quickly so that she can refill their glasses, Dixon (“that cute little thing”)

Hates : Football, when M and T leave the pub early (yeh folks, it happens)


Gerhard

Occupation : Waiter in another establishment

Appearance : joyful

Ability to stop talking when drunk : None

Secret pride : His car, which lacks 2 doorhandles, has a wobbly wheel, and a skeleton hanging from the rear-view mirror. “This is the safest car in South Africa, would anyone actually want to steal this car?”

Temporary aim in life : To hook up his 3-year-old son with a 4-year-old blonde girl.

Claim to fame : Will snort anything for R50 beer money. Is especially proud of the time he snorted a line of “Hot Az Hell Chilli Sauce”

Wears : The same top every day

Amount of times this talent has been displayed to T and M : None, despite regular requests.

Loves : Drinking, talking, his car, winding up Carl (a shared passion with M), recycling (for which he expresses a deep admiration for Europeans)

Hates : People who litter, people who waste food (“Dogs can eat bones”), movie critics (“They all slated “Lucky Number Seven” but it was great!”), being in pictures, the TV show “Jackass” (“they just copied everything from me! I did it all years before they did it!”)

Graham

Occupation : Changes regularly due to getting repeatedly fired

Appearance : Vicious

Nature : Warm and gentle

Honorary member of : A Miami Mexican street gang, due to beating them in a tequila drinking contest in a Miami bar.

Specialities : Being able to work hungover, getting fired only to find another job.

Favourite items of clothing : Jose Cuervo baseball cap, French football shirt.

Loves : Beer, gypsies, France (from which his family descends)

Hates : Italian football team (“Fuckin' eye-ties”)

Ivan

Occupation : Production manager for a pasta company

Origin : Bloemfontein

Opinions on his hometown : “Well, you can go there if you want, but frankly you wouldn't be missing much if you didn't”

Most people fitted on his scooter while drunk : 3

Furthest he can drive in his car before it breaks down : about 4km

Loves : Brandy, internet, Shadow and Tessa (guard dogs par excellence), his movie collection, gatsbies (enormous South African sandwiches), Russell Peters and Tim Minchin

Hates : When his dogs rip his drying clothes off his clothesline, having his house repeatedly broken into (problem solved with acquisition of dogs), visitors who pitch up without warning, housework/gardening, Carl's jokes (more than everyone else)

Stefan

Lives with : Carl

Never seen without : One of those green army jackets with a German flag on the side.

Is useful to Ivan because : He works in a pet shop and delivers 25kg sacks of dog food for Tessa and Shadow

Best sale ever made : Selling his spare German army jacket to Carl at an extortionate price

Loves : World of Warcraft and other online games, destroying everyone in the Animal quizzes on the “Buzz” computer game,

Hates : When Carl downloads enough music and movies to cause lag on the network hence slowing his Warcraft games down,

Guest starring :

Thomas the German : Came to visit his daughter many months ago but is now repeatedly seen in the Seafarer. Generally is rather respectable aside from the evening where Germany beat Argentina 4:0, left the bar in a state of general disarray but then reappeared 10 minutes later having been mugged for his phone. Sat around for 10 minutes shaking his head and then reattempted to go home.

Janus : Also referred to as “Danny de Vito” due to a shocking resemblance, he loves women in general but M in particular – enough to give her a hug at every sighting and, on one occasion, a scarf.

Louis : works at the rival bar “Bart's Tavern” but regularly kicks back at the Seafarer, sharing his opinions on everything (at length) from the negative karma of swearing to the doping scene affecting the Tour de France. Has a tendency to repeat himself even more than M does, which is rather spectacular.

World Cup Survival Guide

10^th June - 14^th July – Days 253-287 – Stories from Strand, South Africa

The successful viewing of a World Cup, it is well known, needs only 4 simple ingredients. In Strand, we had all 4. It seemed like it was going to be good.

1) In order to be a good World Cup viewer, one needs every football fan's companion - the Wall Chart. Especially during boring games, it's almost more fun to fill in the wall chart and list every scorer in order to geek at it during the few hours between games. We got our wall chart for free from the Cape Times newspaper, and papers ripped from a notepad and white-tak provided a classy scorers list.

"Who scored the equaliser for Tajikistan again?"

2) After the games, of course, there is a slight come-down as one realises that it will be a full 18 hours until the next game kicks off. Sleep will fill in some of those hours, of course, but nothing fills the rest of the hours like E-TV, the South African channel that showed the entire "Rocky" series during the World Cup. Y'know?

I'm a fighter, eh, that's what I do. I fight. Y'know eh?

3) When the sun is out, not only is it nice to be outside but also Rocky isn't on TV until long after dark. Hence when one is in a beach town, it's important to have at least one kick-about on the beach and swim in the sea (if, given that it's winter in South Africa, the swimmer has the mental strength to deal with small-weiner-shock-syndrome after a dip in the glacial waters). Cheers to Dixon and Sal for providing our Jabulani ball.

Tough guys at 12 o'clock

4) When a wall-chart just isn't enough, one must wait for the final games of the group stages, which are played concurrently. Watching the games just isn't enough so to fill in those hours before the game, two nerds can do no better than calculating all of the possible permutations and poring over them as soon as a goal goes in!

M whips out the mathematical brain that has lain dormant since graduation

Feel it - it is here! And WE are READY!!

"Home" Sweet "Home"

10^th June - 14^th July – Days 253-287 – Stories from Strand, South Africa

Where to start? Strand was to become the closest thing to a home that we'd had during the entire trip. We rattled our way to Strand train station on a ride which seemingly took an age. The apparent length of the trip was further extended by the lack of toilets on the Cape MetroRail and, with a slightly pained expression on my face, we wandered out into the bright sunshine and were picked up by Elma in her Mercedes sports car. A good start. The roof was on so we didn't really have a complete Thelma and Louise (and Louis) experience as we cruised up Beach Road to our new home but it was good enough. We moved into our apartment, admired the view over the ocean out of the huge front window from our unfolding sofas, contemplated watching TV or a DVD with our lovely DVD player, wondered whether we should take a bath or a shower first (given that we had both a bathtub and a shower), or whether to unpack our bags and put all the clean clothes into the closets and the dirty ones into the washing machine. The only downer was the kitchen sink which reminded me that washing up followed eating, but in general all was good. We flopped out for a while.

The World Cup hadn't started yet so M took care of the entertainment in our fully equipped kitchen

Strand is the quintessential two-horse town – it has more than one pub, several restaurants, and a Beach Road you can stroll down as the sun sets, assuming that there isn't a gale blowing, which there quite often is. There are a couple of petrol stations and a train station but, all in all, it's not the kind of place a tourist will come and sit for five weeks unless it's summer and said tourist can sit on the beach. We'd have to content ourselves with the World Cup, and the presence of a TV in our new temporary home meant that we could fulfil our aim of watching all of the games without seeing them in a bar and spending loads of money on beer.

The Strand, the Strand, it's a hell of a town

The view from the window. Greetings from sunny SA

The opening ceremony began at 2pm and at 1.30pm we emerged from the cybercafe where we'd gone to check our mails and realised that we didn't have our beer. Time was ticking and we made a rushed decision to go into the first bar we saw. This was The Seafarer. “Hello, my name's Carl – what can I get ya? Hansa Marzen Gold is on special at the moment...”. It was the beginning of a long and beautiful yet fractious relationship.

What'll it be squire?

4^th June - 10^th June – Days 248-253 – Cape Town, South Africa

So we'd done our loop around Western Cape and were back in the Mother City. First thing in the morning we made hopeful glances out of our windows to see whether Table Mountain would be clear to go and visit still before my parents were due to fly out. What we got was grey rain. Hence, my parents had the pleasure of spending their last full day in South Africa by circling around the Century City Mall in search of whatever they might want to take back (read: my mother was looking for something new for the wardrobe). Us youngsters managed to use the opportunity to replace our camera (the one that had left us after Victoria Falls) with a new one, the fourth one of the trip.

First picture with the new camera! We're back in Lumix-land! Cheers!

The next day me and T waved my parents off in front of the hotel when they jumped in a taxi to the airport under bright blue skies. They talk about the changing weather in Cape Town a lot, and by now I was sure that every word is true. What followed after that was a sunny day's pub crawl which started at 1pm and finished around midnight when we decided it was a good idea to get a taxi back to the hotel before passing out at Zula Bar. I have a vague recollection of meeting some Italian guys who invited us to come and join them in meeting the Italian football team at some banquet style evening. For some reason, these guys also disappeared rather quickly before we managed to sort out the practicalities. Hmmmm.

We're also back in the first world.

The owner of the hotel, or actually guest house, was kind enough to let us stay over for a couple more days at a reduced rate while we were going through our options and trying to sort out accommodation for the next five weeks. T needed a new passport as his old one was full (which with the French administration would take forever to get) and we were also days away from the start of the World Cup, so we needed somewhere to let our hair and bags down and just enjoy the show while it lasted.

A strange situation by the name of "No parents"

After a couple of more nights out in Cape Town with some interesting characters and several inquiries into lodging possibilities in Cape Town at any reasonable price, we called up Elma, a contact of Marlene's, to ask whether she'd propose a good deal for us. She rents out a holiday apartment in a beach town called Strand, not far from Cape Town, which would probably not be booked for off-season so we stood a chance of getting a five-week continuous tenancy. The only thing we knew about Strand was that it had been described to us as a dead-end beach town that got busy with holidaymakers in the summer and mostly retired people at any other time of the year. Elma made us the cheapest deal we'd heard, seen or been teased of. We took it and jumped on the “MetroRail Plus” confidently with our noses pointing out at yet something new and unexplored. Surely we could rock even the deadest town up and enjoy some beach living for five weeks.

The Incredible Case of the Curious Ostrich

31^st May - 3^rd June – Days 244-247 – Western Cape Drive-a-thon part 2 (Oudtshoorn to Cape Town), South Africa

The first leg of this post will be rather poor, given that we fell asleep in the car and spent half of the day snoozing in the car. When we were eventually shaken by the oldies we were in a place called Mossel Bay. We were for a lunch of calamari and various seafoods although it was otherwise an utterly uninspiring and uninteresting town – apologies to anyone from Mossel Bay reading this but it's a fair point. We swiftly moved on.


The idea so far had been to follow the Garden Route and go along the coast when M's mother decided that actually a trip around the Little Karoo would be better. We reached the town of George and turned inland towards Oudtshoorn. The drive was uneventful other than a cigarette break which was unexpectedly interrupted by a curious ostrich poking its head over the fence between the fence and the roadside.

"Who you callin' stupid?"

We drove around Oudtshoorn aimlessly around 3 times before the young'uns took control and we ended up at a B&B by the name of Aan De Brug run by the delightful Marlene, who took us young'uns into a room with the promise that “it's my most romantic room” coupled with a wink and a smile, and her husband Chris who treated us to home made booze of some sort, served from a ram's horn. The romance was slightly broken by the fact that everyone ended up watching South Africa v. Guatemala on TV, but that's how life goes sometimes!


Marlene and Chris had told us about a little loop we could do around a few small towns and the Cango Caves which were apparently fairly groovy. Hence we woke up the next morning and zipped off towards the town of Prins Albert. It was a beautiful drive dotted with hills, small villages and the general emptiness which is so typical of some parts of Africa but hard to find in the areas of the Cape we'd been in so far. We stopped at a waterfall which we'd been promised was nice in the wet season. It was now the dry season, and the waterfall was more of a watertrickle. Still, it was nice to stretch our legs for a bit.

Pre-waterfall anticipation

A trickle indeed

The next stop was Prins Albert, a quaint little town where we did the classic M-and-parents routine of driving around without making any decisions before the young'uns stepped in and ordered the oldies to park and hop into an antique shop/restaurant for a bite to eat and a home made lemonade, and then got back into the car and drove through the mind-blowing Swartberg pass. The driving was slow but the views were amazing and we lapped it up for several hours, eventually emerging at the Cango Caves, ready for a tour of one of the biggest cave systems in South Africa. We parked and walked to the entrance with baited breath. It was closed. We left again.

The best quiche in Prins Albert

The spectacular Swartberg

The return to Oudtshoorn was made via a lodge which was run by Marlene's daughter and her husband and had a sundowner next to a pan and watching hippos and elephants wandering around. Yet again, a moment which made me fear going back to Europe where we would be sitting drinking a beer on the street watching drunkards and streams of traffic. I tried to forget the future and concentrated on what was going on.

All dirt roads lead to Cape Town

Next day, we tried the Cango Caves again and were presented with a choice of the short tour or the extended tour. Unfortunately the extended tour was not recommended for those above a certain age and so us young'uns swallowed our pride and went for the shortened tour, during which we wandered around a cave system previously inhabited by the San people and apparently filled with the largest stalactites in the world. We looked on extremely impressed and snapped pictures like good tourists do. The short tour was indeed short and soon enough we found ourselves blinking in the sunlight and hit route 62 towards Cape Town where the car had to be returned.

How many stalactites does it take to change a light bulb?

A stop in Barrydale was totally unproductive aside from the fact that we managed to eat lunch at place called the Blue Cow, where not only was the food tasty but we also got given bread to feed the ducks before we ate. Barrydale's attractions were soon exhausted (a fairly easy task, given that there were none) and we hit the road towards Worcester where we were to spend the night. The familiar pattern repeated itself and we went to the restaurant where I managed to impress even myself by stuffing down 600g of ribs, before we retired to bed and watched low-grade movies on E-TV. Winner. It transpired that we were just down the road from South Africa's biggest brandy distillery which gives tours followed by free tastings, and what better than a bunch of brandies before heading off on a road trip? We sampled a selection aside from M who was remaining soberish for the drive down to Cape Town.

Even the most hardcore Finn couldn't handle all of this...

Although the vast majority of Finns are well used to this. Even the pillar is asking for a few hours of sunshine, man...

Further confusion followed as we headed back to the “Mother City” intending to pull through Franschhoek and Stellenbosch on the way. We made it to Franschhoek and ate at a delightful restaurant, watching baboons cavorting in the garden and enjoying the sight of a fellow diner who may or may not have overdone the wines before crashing his car into a pillar in the parking lot. Stellenbosch awaited us until M's mum decided that she didn't want to go and preferred to head straight back to Cape Town. As we rolled into Cape Town's minibus-taxi station due to my slightly sub-standard map-reading skills, M managed to navigate us out through several 3-point turns under a shower of “brother, what are you doing here!!” calls from minibus drivers. We pulled into the Flower Street Villas as Table Mountain greeted us draped in her habitual clothing of grey cloud. Our ascent was put off yet again.

Cheers Marlene!!

29^th May - 30^st May – Days 242-243 – Western Cape Drive-a-thon part 1 (Cape Town to Caledon), South Africa

To my mother's delight, the day we drove out of Cape Town and down and around the Cape Peninsula was the first nice day we'd had so far. It was all postcard perfect with sunshine and bright blue skies, and it seemed like Table Mountain was waving us goodbye with a very cheeky smile on, now that it had got rid of its tablecloth. Touring the Cape Peninsula in this kind of weather is not a bad alternative, however, so we grinned back just as cheekily.

The trip was enjoyed more by some than by others

We began to suspect that Tiina's binoculars were surgically attached to her eyes

The originality award goes to whoever gave this village its name...

We followed the coastline rigorously past Camps Bay and the peaks of Twelve Apostles, through Chapman's Peak drive – which is supposed to be “amazing!!” which it was, but also disappointingly short – and on to Noordhoek, cut across to the other side to the Table Mountain National Park. This is where we got out of the car to see the second most southern point of Africa, the Cape Point. (For those of you who are not in the know but curious, the southernmost point is at Cape Agulhas, about 300km further east on the coast.) There's a cable car which takes you up to the point from the parking lot, but with our luck it wasn't working so we were taken up by a shuttle bus instead. You can also walk, but as my parents were lazy and rich enough to indulge on this ridiculousness, we all sat on the bus for those three minutes it takes to get up. Amusingly, this was enough time for them to be challenged in their Swedish language skills and look troubled as there was a Swedish guy sitting in front of them. What a reward for us on the back seat! Cape Point in itself, needless to say, was awesome even if – and I quote my dear friend Inna who has been here before – “you cannot really see where the two oceans merge into one”. (As I was standing there looking out into the blue I thought of you and about where I would be without your wise words, darling. With a wicked grin on, obviously.) From Cape Point we made our way to Simon's Town for the night. Pizza and beer for dinner, and off to bed.

Generic landscape picture #88829030393774

See above

We reached Cape Point and we're STILL not killing each other! Feel the love!

In the morning of the second day of driving we still hadn't really formulated any kind of plan of where we were actually headed or what we wanted to see. So we just continued up the Cape Peninsula nearly all the way back into Cape Town and then swerved right back towards the coast again. The only short-term plan we established was that we would stop for a coffee in Gordon's Bay, which is a pretty little fishing town full of holiday homes but also has a naval base of sorts. Here people were having picnics on the beach in shorts while I was clutching onto my scarf and trying to wrap it around my neck for the third time. Still I somehow enjoyed an ice cream in the sun with no problem.

Ditto

We had received miscellaneous information from various people about whether there were any whales around the False Bay area at this time of year or not. Bizarrely, quite a few people were swearing to us that there would definitely be, even if it wasn't supposed to be the whale watching season at all yet. As we drove off towards Hermanus, “the whale watching capital of South Africa”, we optimistically stopped a few times to look out for the big swimmers, but in vain. Once we got to Hermanus and asked about the whales we got a straightforward “not yet” at least. Oh well, late lunch there with some shisha on the terrace – again, far too cold to be doing this – and a decision to carry on somewhere else for the night.

This was when I browsed through one of the tourist info pamphlets that we'd grabbed from our hotel in Cape Town and spotted that there is a casino in a town called Caledon, a couple of hundred kms inland from the coast. This revelation together with a mention of a mineral spa convinced my mother about that this was where we would be spending the night. Just over an hour later we did indeed find ourselves at the Caledon Hotel & Casino, in spacious spick-and-span rooms with heating and satellite TV. T and I made use of the large bathtub to do our washing before we all headed out to the mineral spa for a sauna in true Finnish style, i.e. sitting butt-naked in the steam room. While I had been wandering around the mineral pools a bit earlier I had spotted two ladies in one of the jacuzzis so I rang the alarm bell for the rest of us to get some swimming gear on or make it quick and out of the sauna before these ladies would run into us and turn us all in for indecent behaviour.

Karoo + phone lines

Soft-skinned and invigorated, we had dinner and then headed upstairs for some gambling. Most of us lost, some of us covered for the losses of others (I'm not boosting my own ego here by not mentioning names). Late into the night we descended from the frenzy and sunk our dazed heads into some huge and puffy pillows. I'd organised a date with my mother at the mineral pool at 8am, just in time to try it out before breakfast and check-out.

The next morning we miraculously got up and to the pool at 8am. Only to find it being drained as part of the weekly cleaning procedures, and hence out of use until the afternoon. Just when I really could have done with a nice and warm pick-me-up.

Back to Europe......??

25^th- 29^th May – Days 238-242 – Cape Town, South Africa


It was strange to arrive in Cape Town. The “Mother City” welcomed us as a final stop on the Cairo-Cape Town run before the aimless farting around began in earnest. As we rolled in on the best bus we'd ridden in on the entire trip, we found ourselves looking through the windows in an upward direction, which was unusual. Cape Town is a big city, both in terms of population and in terms of how high the buildings stretch. To anyone jetting in from London or Paris or Berlin or New York for the World Cup just a couple of weeks away it may have seemed quaint and provincial, I don't know. To us, though, it was a city of big shops, big buildings, traffic lights and street signs and flashy cars, trendy bars and restaurants serving food from all corners of the world. We were suddenly back home, and we had a bit of time here to decide whether we liked it or not. The funny thing is that in all of those hours and days of sleeping in back-breaking beds in Ethiopia, rattling on those buses along those roads in Tanzania, and getting look-there's-a-white-guy attention throughout the whole trip, I was getting increasingly curious about how it would feel to be back in “the civilised world” where I could walk around like I was back home and where I was more or less anonymous. This was it – we were about to find out. We were about to go back to our previous lives for a bit. Although admittedly, we did have cheap beer, cheaper steaks and biltong to assist us.

Big mountains, big buildings


...and bright lights

With all the swagger and self-assurance of two people who were staying on someone else's money, M and I accompanied her parents through the gates of our home for the next 3 nights at a price which we would never have paid ourselves. Table Mountain, we were assured, was right behind us although the tablecloth of cloud was preventing us from seeing anything. We took refuge from the elements in a Vietnamese restaurant. The elements caused more problems as Yka and Tiina had unfortunately not packed enough warm clothes. As a result, we ended up wandering around shopping centres with chain stores. The rain was pouring outside and it was cold. It definitely was like being back home. Another funny thing, I realised – after all of the cultures and landscapes and different experiences we'd been through, Cape Town was the place where I first got a major culture shock.

International food...


...and international smokeables

To cope with it, we went around this European-style city doing European-style things - the South African museum which took us through the region's prehistory, showed us a huge array of stuffed animals, including my favourite the okapi, and a big display on marine life. This was followed by a trip to the aquarium where we saw various aquatic beings, as one does in an aquarium, and I discovered the “giant spider crab”, which is very impressive and entirely deserving of its name. We wandered the length of the seafront, stopping here for a glass of wine and there for a bite to eat. It was all very calm and civilised. Africa, of course, does have its ways of reminding her guests where they are, and I wandered the streets of Cape Town with a 9th staphylococcal infection drooping from my jaw, prompting mothers to cover the eyes of their children, attractive young women to cross the road as they saw me coming, and the Predator to come and hunt me down.

The waterfront's Marina...


...and its entertainment options

As it became clear that M's mother's wish to climb Table Mountain without being swamped in cloud was not going to materialise any time soon, we picked up a car, hit the N2 and sped away from Cape Town to have a look at what the Western Cape Province could offer us – the abundance of signs ensuring that we wouldn't get lost, and the chain service stations by the side of the road ensuring we could pick up a packet of Lay's or biltong whenever we got hungry. I'm still struggling to get used to it.

With the tastes of home... (thanks mummy and daddy!!!)


...are we waving goodbye to Africa? (crap humour helps me cope with it, sorry)