South Africa Trip - Cultural Chaos

Our two week trip to South Africa was thrown together at best… only a month before we departed did we actually even chat about the potential of a trip to the other side of the world. The standard chats ensued immediately with monetary concerns, the wellbeing of our dogs and potential of ceremonial torture and death at the hands of the African natives. But fears aside and hearts full with the promise of adventure and discovery, we started the process of organizing our itinerary.

I must confess, the travel deals seemed to be buried a little deeper below the surface than your run of the mill one click deals in the US. The flights alone varied by up to $1000.00 with the brokers and well into the $5000 range by the usual gougers, but on my second night of internet surfing I found a slightly suspect broker who was offering flights for over $400 per ticket lower than the next lowest provider. A little apprehensive and second guessing my way through the process I eventually made the booking and then waited with baited breath for the confirmation. I’m pleased to report that two days later the payment was processed and one phone call to South African Airways confirmed that we had return seats booked on the newest range of aircraft in the SAA fleet. Our route would take us from Las Vegas to Washington to Johannesburg and finally to Durban international airport in Kwa-Zulu Natal. When all was said and done our travel time would extend beyond a full day, allow us three sun sets and two sun rises and put us 35000 feet above the earths surface for over 21 hours. Additionally our budget broker would have saved us almost $1000 over what we would have paid had we gone directly to the SAA web site in the first place. Next time you r considering commission based employment, spare a thought for the airline industry. Between domestic trips in South Africa (The SAA flight from Durban to Johannesburg cost us almost 3 times what it cost us to fly from Cape Town to Durban on “Mango” airlines… though it must be said that after our “Mango” experience, its unlikely that either Annmarie or I will take that adrenalin filled thrill ride again. We’ll pay extra for the peace of mind of safety first !) and international bookings over the internet, I believe the potential for large commissions is a real possibility.
Once in Durban, the best and most reliable entity of our South African Tourism experience was introduced to us. There is a rental car outfit called Eurocar that was absolutely brilliant… there is consistency, efficiency and ease of use. Additionally the online booking or even the show up and drive off process was a breeze. We hoped into our little Toyota Carrola and sped off to the South Coast where I was pleasantly surprised to see everything just as I left it. The freeways were clean and well maintained, the signposts were clear and regular and all in all it was just great to be “Home”. Southbroom was the perfect little sea side village it has always been, quaint, cozy and welcoming.

The weather was a little unkind with regular clouds and rain and every day we delayed a trip to the beach for a swim was another day closer to ensuring a swimming free holiday (At least my baggies can now say they have been around the world even if they haven’t actually been wet in all seven seas).
Though the undertone of the Southbroom leg was an emotionally painful one, there were some very good high points. We spent one evening playing darts in the bar at Nan and Grand’s place. It was a little contrived to begin with if for no other reason than it was planned and specifically issued in as a must do. But it came together beautifully with everything that Southbroom has always been, Family, Fun and togetherness. The booze got flattened and towards the end of the night we had to break into Grand’s ancient supply of Old Brown Sherry… aptly renamed by Andy as Old Brown Shoe. I have always held onto the memories of the “Ancient Ice” in Nan and Grand’s fridge (Their ice trays holding the solid evidence of years old water) and the ageing alcohol displayed proudly in Grand Dad’s Bar was the same stuff that teased us wonton adolescent kids on school holidays decades before. The “Killer” games of darts played between the Gibbs and Prices left the Prices down one game to two with stand out performances by Rob’s Gibb and Annmarie Price respectively. Sadly the night came to an end and somewhat solemnly we all shuffled up the stairs for the last time with and outspoken “Thanks Granddad” as we left.

Leaving The South Coast via Durban we flew to the Thriving metropolis of Johannesburg. Once again we climbed into out trusty Eurocar and guided by a slow to catch up GPS system headed to Fourways and the Montecasino Hotel and Resort. The structure was reminiscent of many of the Las Vegas hotels but the signage was a little less than spectacular, our first attempt to book into the hotel found us in the completely wrong hotel but with a big smile and an encouraging “Don’t worry it happens all the time” we were directed to our hotel further down the drag.
Our first night in the big city was a great eye opener to the productivity of Michaelhouse old boys and their legacy of improving society by their collective presence. Deeds Anderson and her husband Neil, meet us at our Hotel and whisked us off to Hyde Park where a charity event hosted almost entirely by old Michaelhusions was under way. It was a great evening and we met up with the likes of Will Hardy (My old Cop form Michaelhouse Days), James Clucus from Will’s year , The Collins Sisters and a host of others. Annmarie was introduced to the rouge ways of Roland York Smith and spent her night regurgitating a mixture of Wine, Tequila and Chinese Food.
The following day after delaying pickup at first from 10am to 11:30am and then to “Around Lunch time” Deeds took us to Sandton City where we met up with Vanessa Macpherson for Coffee and a little shop around the quite literally gated Jewelry Stores. Annmarie wasn’t really herself and walked out of Sandton City having only spent a few Rands (Less than one Dollar) on a box or Rennies.
That night however her form improved and we were guided somewhat unsuccessfully by our GPS system to “Georges on 4th” where we had an awesome dinner with Graham and Vanessa. It seems Grey and Vanessa have been super busy building an Oasis within and Oasis on the Seychelles North Island. I’m not sure how on earth they do it but clearly there is a surplus of energy between the two of them because they are always on the go, always doing great things and still manage to make time for us at the drop of a hat. Its great to have friends like to one’s you make in South Africa and regardless of what becomes of this country, the friendships you make there will without doubt follow you all the days of your life.
Diverting slightly on to topics of a political/social matter, Johannesburg is undoubtedly a little on the scary side… From Fourways to Hyde Park and from Rivonia to the Thambo something or other Airport (JHB international) the intersections and road ways of Gauteng are lined with street sellers. For the most part a simple shake of the head is sufficient to deter the seller from pressing their wears, but the younger generation are a lot less intimidated by disinterest in their products. Children no older than 14 peer into your car with no shame or embarrassment. Eye contact is not even temporarily adopted as a decoy, brazenly the youngsters visually scour the seats of the cars and laps of the passengers of items of value. We had been instructed to place any and all luggage in the trunk of the car so as not to mark ourselves a target for would be thieves. When you see how outwardly these kids inventory the passing vehicles its easy to see why all the locals offer up the same safety advice.
Whilst we spent two days driving the Joburg roads unscathed, the news papers tell a different story for some less fortunate soles who lost their lives doing just about the same things we were doing… namely driving. One unfortunate couple who were engaged and due to marry in November somewhat unwisely decided to follow the car that belonged to them and had been hijacked. The fiancé who still had his car followed his wife to be’s car while on the phone to the police giving a real time account of what was going down with the stolen vehicle. As is the case with the criminals in South Africa, life is cheap and for his troubles, the man who’s fiancé car has been stolen, was flanked by the stolen car and two bullets were fired into his side. By the time the Cops showed up (he was still on the phone when the shots rang out) he had died from the bullet wounds. Meanwhile Annmarie and I were on a flight down to Cape Town.

The Mother City is without a doubt still South Africa’s most cosmopolitan destination. The majesty of Table Mountain and the dramatic coast line will take more than people to be destroyed… well in the short term at least. We stayed in the Alfred Victoria waterfront area in the Portswood hotel. We had booked a room on the night before our arrival and due to the weekend and working hours on a Sunday our booking was not forwarded to the front desk. This little mishap favored us and a slight inconvenience became a major bonus when the Front Desk attendant took it upon himself to upgrade us for our trouble. We found ourselves in one of the few suites in the hotel and too our surprise found out that our room had been used in the past to accommodated Nelson Mandela. I’m waiting for the day when in a bid to out do each other Dad and Annmarie one up each other with Dad boasting about his lunch with Mandela and Annmarie countering with the fact that she has slept in his bed… I’ll keep out of that one altogether since my improving marital relations could really put me in the thick of it if I were to throw in my own “one up“.
Once in Cape Town we headed to the coast line and the must see destinations of Sandy Bay and Clifton Beach. The sea was rough and ready with the after effects of what must have been one hell of a storm. The ocean had thrown up all its dead Kelp and debris, and I’m sorry to report that for the most part the pristine beaches that I remembered were somewhat badly beaten by the huge refuse carrying waves that crashed onto the shore line. I doubt that this had anything to do with a lack of maintenance, there truly must have been a huge storm off shore because the waves were bigger than I have ever seen before and the rubbish on the beach looked like it could have been floating out to see for months before it found its way onto the shore line. Clifton Beach was a bit of a disappointment with a few strides on the beach and a quick retreat up the steps again when the waves threatened to just about engulf the whole beach. The trip to Sandy Bay however offered a little more entertainment value… well for Annmarie at least ! It seems to me that Sandy Bay has transformed from nature reserve and nudist beach to gay pick up spot. There were two other couples (man and wife type) that we saw taking the nature stroll through the narrow winding path leading to Sandy Bays beach cove but other than that it was a preverbal sausage fest… Annmarie spotted and pointed out a few “chaps” trotting over the rocks in the all together and I searched out the high ground as far from the rocky shore line as possible. The classic ship wreck that once marked the entry to the Llundudno nature area has unfortunately slipped below the waves once and for all. It would appear that the unrelenting waves around the Cape of Storms continue to take no prisoners.

After a morning at sea level we took to Cape Towns most recognizable land mark, Table Mountain. The winding road from Camps Bay up to the Cable Car brought back a slew of memories for me, for reason that I can’t really pinpoint I could just about trace the road from the Camps Bay hotel to the intersection of Signal Hill and road to the Cable Car. When we arrived at our destination we noticed that both the Cable Cars were stationary, one just a few hundred feet away from the sheer face of the mounts summit and the other just out of the blocks at the embarkation point of the Cable station. We inched our way through the tourist foot traffic near the multiple of souvenir stands flanking the parking lot and eventually found parking a short walk to the ticket office. Once wrapped up and ready for the cooler climes of Table Mountains top, we strolled off down towards the huge block building that is the Cable Cars home. Unfortunately we had only covered a short distance when an announcement came over the loud speakers letting us know that “Due to technical problems, the cable car would not be operating for the rest of the day”. I felt horrible for those poor buggers stuck hundreds of meters above the ground, knowing full well that Philemon was working double time to get the problems fixed back in the big concrete block building what must have felt like miles away. With a hushed “Thank goodness we went to the beach first” Annmarie and I zipped back to the Hotel and surfaced three hours later to Join Gray for dinner on the Alfred Victoria waterfront for an early dinner…. The cable cars were still in the same spots and I couldn’t help feeling for the poor people inside… I imagined the guys or gals saying, “I’ll go to the bathroom when we get down the mountain, the one’s up here are a bit doggy” . We had a very good dins with Grey and when we woke up late the next morning the Cable Cars were no longer stranded in mid air, I hope for the sake of the Cape Town municipality that no Americans were on board… the law suits could bankrupt the city.
Having just come from Johannesburg and the very real sense of danger that surrounds the city, Cape Town was a breath of Fresh air, There were sign posts threatening “Zero Tolerance” towards crime in and around the Alfred Victoria Waterfront area and it seems to be in effect. We drove around with the windows open and strolled calmly around the shops and restaurants, there were musicians / buskers playing all day and in the evenings there was loud music coming from the Pubs and eateries bordering the waterfront. All in all we felt very safe and at no time did we concern ourselves with the heightened level of awareness that we were constantly being advised to by locals and the media. This is however only true for The costal area from Alfred Victoria to Llundudno. Wanting to take another trip down memory lane, I drug Annmarie off on a search to find St Elmo’s Pizzeria in Claremont. I had worked there some 15 years earlier and wondered if the Spinach and Feta pizza that I lived on back then would still taste as good. With a due sense of distress we drove through suburban Cape Town in search of the town that I had called home for four months. We obviously got seriously lost because we found ourselves in Athlone or some similar sounding place and it must be said the scene was one right out of Johannesburg. Windows were tightly wound up, doors locked and double checked and the heightened state of awareness kicked right into full gear. After some frantic driving while scanning the Map for clues we managed to get to the outskirts of Claremont and ultimately found the main drag through and out around the side of the mountain and back to the City Center. Sadly I did not recognize my old stomping grounds at all, there were fleeting snaps of possibility but the overall result was that I was a stranger in an unknown place and felt quite disappointed that the once vibrant hotspot looked a bit slapped around and a lot less safe. This put a slight damper on our flame for Cape Town as a whole and decided to restrict our exploration to the confines of the Waterfront. This still offered plenty of things to do, but suddenly the feeling that the sanctity of the Mother City was at least in our estimation restricted to the finite area around the harbor left us feeling just a little disappointed and ready to move on to our next port of call…. Durban.
Ok… the place of my birth has changed somewhat since I left… and not subtly. I was really disappointed when driving down West Street, across Point Road into Gillespie and connecting with Marine Parade to the Elangeni Hotel, now the Southern Suns Elangeni. For the larger portion of the trip the scene was one of squalor, poverty and “Africa”. It wasn’t up until we were parked right outside our Hotel that we felt remotely comfortable slowing the forward momentum of our tin fort. Once inside the Hotel we had a late dinner and retired to bed right away. The following morning we planned to take a leisurely walk along North Beach to take in a little of the famous Durban Beach Front. Unfortunately our mood was somewhat tainted when our Indian waiter explained in detail where to and not to go along the Durban coast line. He explained that muggings happen with some regularity in various places and that we should at no time speak on a cell phone or take photographs in public for fear of a run by theft or worse. Despite the warnings we figured it would be fine to stroll around the immediate area and stepped outside into a warm sunny Natal morning. At first we felt fine, but nearing the beach either from our over active imaginations or because we were two of the only six white faces to be seen amongst the hundreds of people milling about on or around the esplanade we decided that walking on the beach was over rated and we could probably have just as good a time sitting in the hotel. Right or wrong, Annmarie and I spent the entire day sitting in the Hotel reading and passing the hours. At one stage we bumped into our Indian waiter who chatted to us for ages and when I mentioned how much I would love a Veggie Bunny Chow promptly rushed off to secure Annmarie and I one of Durban’s finest inventions.

At this point I feel somewhat compelled to elaborate on a few of the items that I have found to be most openly obvious about the new South Africa. I’ll explain the situations as they have happened rather than just itemize my opinions. After all I have the benefit of having just crossed America as a Tourist and some of the things I take for granted there make it easy to understand why America is such an easy place to visit and why in my opinion, the 2010 world cup isn’t so much going to put South Africa on the map as officially take it off.
The weight limitations in South Africa are a little more rigid that what I’ve become used to. Apparently you can travel internationally into or out of S.A. with 30 kilograms per checked in bag, but you can only travel domestically with 20 kilograms. This applies any time a traveler exceeds the 24 hour rule, i.e. If you are traveling to Durban via Joburg, your checked luggage can weigh 30 Kg’s on arrival in JHB, and remain 30Kg’s through to Durban but if you happen to travel to Cape Town two days later, your luggage must mysteriously lose 10Kg’s…. And get this…. Regardless of if you are an international traveler or not, I can only guess that there is a large pile of old T-shirts at every one of South Africa’s international airports, or that or the locals have figured out another way to steal money. This was explained to me by some militant weigh in clerk at the SAA check in counter on route to Cape Town. I explained to her I was an international traveler visiting with the same weight that I had arrived with and she informed me that she was charging me for being 9Kg’s over weight at 25 Rand per Kg. I told her good luck in 2010 and didn’t acknowledge another SAA employee verbally until I boarded the plane. I must admit that I felt a little constellation when I over heard the white couple behind me who had over heard the altercation mumble TIA in response to the Militant SAA employee’s decision. TIA as I have discovered means “This Is Africa” and has become a part of every day language in South Africa… basically it means you can’t fix what the blacks have fucked up, and boy-o-boy is that a long list.
I don’t want to paint a dismal picture that this in an all encompassing attitude, there are still lots of amazing people in S.A. that are working their butts off to make the country bigger and better, unfortunately the majority are halfwits and it shows.
The Hotels have so far all suffered from the same problem… I think it’s a literacy thing, Annmarie thinks it’s a color blind thing. What I mean is that the big Red sign that hangs on the door knob that says “Do not Disturb” seems to either be just a suggestion or really is of no consequence at all. Of the hotels that we have stayed at, one morning we had three separate knocks on the door , one prior to 8AM wanting to clean the room, another to check the Mini Bar and the third for room cleaning again another hour later. All the while with the big red “Do Not Disturb” sign offering a suggesting what treatment we the R2000 a night occupants would favor. At the second Hotel I didn’t bother fighting the situation and let the Mini Bar lady in while I wandered around with just a towel wrapped around my waist while Annmarie Showered. The first prize for response to the early morning knock came from Annmarie at the Elangeni when she announced without answering the door in a very uncharacteristic voice that the sign on the door indicated that she didn’t want to be disturbed. There was no response from the other side, but neither was there another disturbance so I guess we may have worked out one of the kinks.
There seems to be increasing aggression between the Blacks and Indians in Natal, On the day that our kindly Indian waiter rushed off to get us a Bunny Chow we found ourselves sitting on the second level pool deck eating our take away food and reading out books. We were approached by another rather militant black woman in a pants suit who asked us where we got the food. Her tone indicated that she was unhappy about our grub and wasn’t looking for directions to her next meal. We informed her that someone had brought it for us and that we were simply enjoying a blast from my past. Her reaction was to inform us that no outside food was allowed into the hotel and then asked if she was correct in saying that someone from “Downstairs” in the lobby had brought it for us. I responded a little more sternly that we were simply enjoying a treat that the Hotel was unable to provide while neither confirming nor denying her allegation and added that we would gladly take our food up to our room to enjoy our meal there if there was a problem. She backed off saying that it was ok, so I didn’t launch into the “good luck in 2010 speech” that I have been perfecting mentally every time something pisses me off.
On Friday the 14th We drove from Durban to Hilton in the rain and Drizzle… only to find the Hilton Hotel with Pub intact named the Mist and Drizzle… we sat inside the cozy snug for an hour or so and quite literally watched a combination of Mist and Drizzle outside the window panes.
Later that evening we went to Crossways Country Inn… this was the one portion of trip I had been looking forward to the entire time. The road that took us there was identical to the one that had taken me there hundreds of times before and the structure that comprised the entity that was my local before all other locals were local… stood there in all its glory being Crossies !
It was perfect…. The Pub although now manned by a black fellow who could barely speak a lick of English and almost completely different in every way to the one that I had known 12 years before, was still Cross Ways Country Inn. I had made a call to Adrian a little earlier and my long lost mate from Pre America Days met us there ready to make all of Hunsa Beers vast advertising in the late 80’s and early 90’s worth while. We drank while the sun shone and we drank during the onset of sun down… the Natal Sharks Rugby came on thanks to the Curry Cup being in full swing… and although the Sharks aren’t the best team this year thanks to half their team playing for the Springboks in France they took the opposing Cavaliers apart as though they were a moffie team from Jo- burg playing a first ever dress rehearsal game for brownie points. Needless to say the spectacular entertainment value and ultimate sports result lead to copious amounts of Hunsa being consumed and extended our stamina for the continuation of drinking. The Sun sank completely, the night fires were lit, the bar filled with smoke in much the same way that a Bee Hive encourages its population to emigrate and Annmarie, Adrian and I sat drinking down Hunsas along with lungs full of extract of pine. By 9PM, more entertainment … the Big Screens burst back to life and the loud speakers crackled with the sounds of an Afrikaner commentator telling us that “we did once was champions in 1995, and is now trying for a second times” The black commentator to his immediate right gave a knowing nod and added that “yees thaat is vereee tru, and ummmm” but was cut off by an advert for SAA and their ability to bring the Bokka to Africa. For a brief moment I wondered if South African Airways knew that the world cup was being played in France this year, but decided to have another drink instead. Trust me… asking for a warm bottle of water for Annmarie from the chap behind the bar only works with the aid of sign language but asking for Hunsa beer works perfectly with a gesture in the general direction of the Draft Tap and a confirming nod. I downed half my Beer by Kick Off, my forth of the evening… (since sun down) and settled into the Game between South Africa and England. It would be an exaggeration to say that it was a one horse race… (there was very clearly a donkey involved), but South Africa won 36 to 0 and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house . Apparently this was a very important game for some reason or another… I asked a few people why? and according to a few university kids who were equally as lit as I was… exclamations that England was crap and South Africa was the best (not sure if that’s a reason or not but it made sense at the time)…. I will of course continue to watch with interest as I’m sure that some bias and booze were involved in the consensus of opinion.

Unfortunately like the stubborn bastard that I am, an opportunity to express my drunken opinion came along when a British bird living in Uganda made the comment that Africa was the safest and most perfect place to live in the world and all the whites should leave at once. Since I had only gone down this path a thousand times before and because I was now back in an Africa that felt like it had been shat out the back side of an illiterate dictator from Nigeria… or is that Niger I. A. I got into a somewhat heated discussion about Politics, Africa’s future and that fact that without European influence “Africa” would still be a content with out the rather handy invention of the wheel”. All I can say in reference to the discussion is that there is no point arguing about things that you cannot change…. Picking up new enemies where ever you go is fruitless and will only make your day that much more gloomy… She said that she hoped that I never visited central Africa in my life time… I assured he the possibility was a little below the absolute zero mark and we both went on our separate ways. The sad conclusion of the whole chat was that I don’t nessacerly feel negatively towards her… clearly she’ll need an AK47 pointed at her head before she sees the down side to African democracy. I on the other hand I may land up having to make an emergency landing in Central Africa someday and Oh boy, won’t I have egg on my face. Either way there is no way to solve the problems surrounding life on this silly blue marble. In the remaining years that I have left here I would like to piss off the people that I love rather than the one’s that I have no interest in loving in the first place.
Ironically the last part of our trip was by complete chance the very best. After searching for just a hint of “Home”… considering that in the words of some wise old fart who must have tried before, “You can never go home again” (home being that place in your memories where everyone knew your name and the sun shone every day). My S.A. high point came thanks to the two places that I once hated most. The road that took us passed Mid Mar dam, through Ligiton and within sight of Curries Post to Balgowan and the school that claimed 4 years of my youth, also flooded my senses with the smells, sights and the warm touch of home. Annmarie and I walked hand in hand through the hallowed cloisters of Michaelhouse… the boys greeted us as Sir and Mam, an expression that visually shocked Annmarie who’s only ever had sixteen year old boys hit on her and not treat her as an elder and someone who deserves a little R.E.S.E.P.C.T (something tells me that Aretha Franklin might even give up music to call the Midlands her home). We spent some time in the Chapel where we searched out and found the cushion that Granny had knitted for Dad and the one that I had knelt on for 3 out of 4 of my years at BG. The cushion is still in perfect shape which is quite something when you consider that it is celebrating its 40th year.

Prior to visiting Clifton, we checked into Rawdons Hotel. We had secured room 23, the Patrick Suite. It was absolutely fantastic, covering something in the region of 900 SF and boasting two bedrooms, TV sitting room and wonderful bathroom with oversized shower, cast iron Victorian tub and shitter with un obscured views of the Rawdons Dam and the Midlands landscape beyond. Rawdons hotel is unchanged in almost all respects, the grounds are pristine, the food delicious, the bar does have a new sign that reads “Smoking Prohibited” which came as a pleasant surprised but the most notable change came in the form of a brand new brewery which produces four brews just for Rawdons. Since its all natural and has nothing in it that allows it to travel, this range of Micro Brew’s can only be enjoyed locally. I was still feeling the sting from the Hunsa fest the night before so I skipped the taste test, but I did buy the T-shirt…. “you got to buy the T-shirt right” ?

Clifton Nottingham Road was great, driving through the Gates, knowing what I was about to see prior to it coming into site. The moisture in the air, smell of the trees and familiar rumble of lose stones under the wheels of the car as we made our way to the open area below house master, Adrian Haggarts old residence made being back a Clifton feel almost like going back home again. I dove in with both feet wanting to take full advantage of the opportunity. Annmarie and I walked through Top Woods just like I had done 23 years before, the place has changed a little but not enough to make it feel any less like Clifton Preparatory School. True its now home to boys and girls, but the spirit of the school seems to be just the same. The kids were still doing much the same things I did when I was 13 and 14 years old.

Our very last day dealt the cards that had at this stage become indicative of our S.A. Trip…. We woke early and went off in search of a midlands coffee shop with a view. We meandered down the road from Rawdons and came to “Born in Africa” a Midlands Meander destination boasting hand made shoes, coffee shop and even a petting zoo for kids. On arrival we discovered a large converted barn that didn’t look dissimilar to the interior of a Costco or Sam’s Club… for South Africans think “Macro”… there were boxes of shoes piled 20 high and it had all the charm of a ship yard during the busy season…. We did a quick U-turn and headed back on the windy road in search of a real Coffee Shop.
We passed a few Midlands Meander spots as we drove but they all seemed to offer the same thing as the first disaster so we continued down to Howick. I remembered a rather nice little spot near to the Falls so thought that the combination of a great view and piping hot cuppa it would be just what the doctor ordered after our initial disappointment.

Howick Falls was crap… in all senses of the word, the filth flying around the place was everywhere, the falls have been reduced to a trickle, the locals use it to do their clothes washing and the Coffee shop is just a shell with a few broken windows.
Note To Self: “The South Africa that you remember has gone ! Wake up and smell the roses… what was great 15 years ago is not a train smash”
It turns out that basically I had spent the last two weeks looking for a memory that had become just that… a memory. The rollercoaster ride of highs and lows were punctuated at best by occasional near misses.
Unfortunately things didn’t really end on a high note either, on the day of our departure we decided to leave a little early so we could take the drive through Hilton down the steep road past Cowan House School and through Pietermaritsburg. Here again anticipation was met by dissapointment as the town, once so pristeen has just become a very large trash can. The Cemetary that flanks either side of the main Road out of the town heading towards Martizburg University was always spotlessly clean and well looked after in my recollection. Now its just about derelict, from the road you can see broken tomb stones, the grass has been allowed to grow over the graves and the yard has become the picture of what happens when all of a sudden maintenance is ceased all together. I would dare say that there were grave yards in the most remote spots of Scotland where a higher level of respect is paid to the dead. Ironically there is a large sign post just past the grave yard showing a picture of the current Mayor, This big beaming picture looks down on passing motorists as if she (The Mayor) is proud of the job she is doing in the town… all I can say is that once upon a time she may have been great at cleaning dishes, but she can’t clean up a town for shit.
Thus ended our trip to S.A. there were lots of experiences and lots of questions answered… I know the over all tone of this account has migrated from positive to negative and for that reason I’m going to end off with the positives that we experienced rather than focus on the easy stuff, the stuff that you can get out of every newspaper in Southern Africa . Before that however I must say that I’m very pleased to have returned, primarily because it was the trip that I needed for myself. I have been over dew for the conformation that once and for all, the decision that I made to leave so long ago turned out to be the right decision. As time has gone by, the bad memories were forgotten and the great memories grown, nurtured and expanded on. I probably started this trip in the wrong frame of mind, I was looking for the South Africa I walked out on 15 years ago, the dream was unrealistic and I had set myself up for disappointment and I have no one to blame but myself for the let down. The South Africa that I came back to looks reminiscent of the Zimbabwe that I saw with Graham in 1994. That was when the Zim dollar still held real value, if memory serves it was even a little stronger than the Rand at the time. Harare was black but still had lots of white faces running the shops and businesses… I had gone there with the hopes of getting a temporary job working in Magaruque in the Mozambique Archipelago as a Dive Instructor, the then owner of the Hotel worked in Harare in seed exports, I never got the job and as history now tells, left to live in the States only a few months later at any rate. Today as is understandable, the guy that I interviewed with no longer works in Harare, the Hotel in Margarue changed hands a few times and is now no longer in operation and as we all know that Zimbabwe is the worlds poster child for bad government. It is for this reason that I feel the need to expand on the comment I made earlier when I say that I think S.A. is going to see an ultimately negative result from the 2010 Soccer World Cup rather than having the event put them on the global tourism map.
Firstly the problems in the big cities of Johannesburg, Cape Town and Durban don’t happen in the tourist friendly areas where a zero tolerance stance it taken towards crime. Currently tourists who go back home to spread the word about travel in South Africa don’t get mugged at the Victoria Alfred Waterfront in Cape Town, There isn’t a high probability of get robbed at the Sandton City Mall in Jo-burg and they can kick back all day long inside the confines of their Durban hotel… However, the soccer stadiums and surrounding bars and restaurants that will be the popular venues in 2010 aren’t in these places… they are out in the more remote or residential / commercial areas where street beggars and would be muggers and hijackers are common place. There are a few things that we found as tourists, that travel regularly and are accustomed to a certain level of comfort that in South Africa will be seen by other tourists to be particularly weird… bare in mind that these are things that stood out through the eyes of Americans and when Americans travel they probably look at there holiday in much the same way Brits, Aussies, Asians and all the world explorers look at the vacation… as a comparison to what they have see before and with the question “will I return”. When I visited South Africa I compared what I was getting for my money, I assessed the pleasure I gained from the surroundings and I weighed the relaxation it offered me… these are a few of the “weird” things that other travelers will also see in 2010.
Caution: High Risk Hijacking Area - reads the sign on the William Nickel Highway near Fourways, while another advises that driving through a Red traffic light is acceptable if a driver feels threatened. This surprised both of Annmarie and I as it seems strange that a high problem area did not once have higher police presence. In fact neither Annmarie nor I saw a single Police officer during our two day visit in Jo-Burg… not one, and that includes Police cars. It bares mentioning that we saw Cops on three separate occasions in Hilton (we even took a photograph of the back of the cop car to show the emergency number to call, it’s a bit like 911 in the USA… only the number in South Africa to call in an emergency is 08600110111, that’s a bloody ELEVEN digit number, this is no joke… you need to remember an eleven digit number to get the cops to show up in a hurry in S.A.) During our one day stay in Hilton the police presence was clear and by the sounds of things, crime isn’t first most on the minds of locals in sleepy little Hilton.

Locals as well as car rental employees and kindly hotel staff warned Annmarie and I with some regularity that we should not leave anything of value on the seats of our car, back or front and don’t leave your purse or handbag visible at any time in the car. Apparently the standard operating procedure is for your assailant to visually inspect the car looking for items of interest, check the door closest to the items desired and failing easy entry, hit the window with a spark plug to shatter it completely allowing easy entry to the goodies inside.
Knowing who’s okay and who’s not is just about impossible, in every high traffic area from Jo-burg to Cape Town and into Durban. Every stop light had anywhere from a couple of people selling wears (every thing from Cell Phone chargers to Christmas ornaments) or begging with or without signs (Hungry please help - God Bless) to a few guys that we saw in both JHB and Cape Town who’s signs offered to take the trash in your car for a price. I wasn’t convinced that they were actually providing a valid service as in both instances, the trash on the roads and surrounding area made it appear to me quite obvious why the trash bags they each carried didn’t hold a single item.
Slow moving traffic beware. There is more than one way to get the goodies inside according to thieves who happen to live near steep hills. As gravity slows the progress of large trucks up to places like Hilton from Pietermaritzburg, some crooks have taken to boarding the sluggish vehicle on foot and then knifing there way into the cargo area of the truck. As the driver continues up the hill the thieves take what the want from the truck until the effects of gravity wear off and then disembark with goodies in hand.
The good Samaritan come security guard come parking lot attendant. Annmarie’s favorite !!! When you park your car in a public parking area in South Africa you have to pay the guy standing in the parking lot to “look after your car” well you don’t have to, but according to the locals that I spoke to its advisable that you do if consistency of paint work is how you like your car to look. Its usually a very nominal amount, but Annmarie’s frustration with the seemingly endless hands out attitude got the better of her early on in the visit and she expressed her frustration verbally to a somewhat shocked parking attendant. I quickly rushed in, pressing a crisp 20 rand note into his hand and asked Annmarie if she could please try to restrain her self for the duration of the trip so I wouldn’t have to pay a 5000 Rand deductible to the rental company for a new paint job because she couldn’t see her way clear to part with a paltry 2 rand coin. The rest of the trip was fine and parking only cost us about 200 rand overall… that’s about 200 rand more than I’ve paid for parking in Vegas over the last 10 years… but at least we helped to curb the unemployment issues in S.A.
Airline safety is priority one in S.A. - Seriously it is !!! The hunting knife that was checked into the flight from Cape Town to Durban still had its Sheath on it… I know because I saw it going around and around the conveyer belt in baggage claim. Not sure why it wasn’t in a bag or a box or anything at all, but it was a big and scary looking thing and I was glad to see my bags arrive so I could get the hell out of the Airport before its owner came to collect. Additionally there are Cellophane wrapping machines in the airports that allow passengers to wrap their bags so that the baggage handlers employed by the airports don’t steel stuff from the bags… how this complies with USA safety regulation when you can’t even put a plastic lock on a bag is beyond me, but more to the point, how do you trust an airline when they don’t even trust their own employees. This becomes even more obvious when you leave South Africa with a stop over in Dakar, Senegal, Obviously America has so little faith in S.A. that they insist on a full plain inspection (That includes stripping seats and doing a carry on check) despite the fact that none of the passengers were allowed to get off the plane as it refueled… America it seems simply feels that Senegal will do a better job at securing the plane than S.A. will.
Unfortunately I could go on and on, but the aim was to end on a positive note so here goes…
South Africa is beautiful, it is beautiful like no other place I have visited. Its weather is great, the evening chill in the Midlands made me feel just like I did as a kid at Clifton and Michaelhouse and the warm sunny days don’t burn you to a crisp like getting caught outside in Vegas. The vegetation is lush and everywhere, there is a real sense that the country is alive and thriving geographically. Clearly what the new government set out to do is happening, you don’t so much see blacks working as you see only blacks working ! The waiters and waitresses everywhere from Wimpy to the most expensive restaurants are black, the airline staff are all black from check in to stewards and stewardesses. All the hotel staff we dealt with were either black or Indian, cashiers, the police, road workers, life savers, teachers and obviously all the civil servants were black. The BEE (Black Economic Empowerment) has been instituted and has clearly worked. I didn’t take stock in terms of a percentage, but I can say that by the looks of things there aren’t nearly 10% of visible jobs being filled by whites, the white minority are exactly that. Although there were a few things like the Cemetery in PMB that had not been maintained, the roads that we traveled were outstanding, there were on a par with the roads in the USA with ease. If I compared the way Zimbabwe looked in 2000 compared to how it was supposed to have been in 1980, then the infrastructure would have been one of the most obvious visual issues. South Africa’s infrastructure is fantastic, There is building everywhere and the promise to bring electricity to the people seems to have been kept. As I mentioned earlier this trip did a lot for me personally, I have been living in the past for far to long and the longing to go home has on more than one occasion had a negative effect on my personal relationships. The enduring attitude that I have come away with is that I have to let things go. TIA (This Is Africa), and its not my Africa, this is just another country on a continent that belongs to the Blacks as a whole. Whites can say that they brought this and that, that they created or built or gave lives for the country, but that changes nothing… Africa is not a European commodity and we, all of us whites are just visiting be we generation 1 or 7 the facts are just to clear to deny.
I will always have a soft spot in my heart for South Africa, I will cling to the good memories and will let the bad ones go. If I ever go back, it will only be to visit, there are too many great places on the planet yet to see. I will always be thankful that I was afforded the opportunity to grow up in such a beautiful place and will proudly wear the colors when South Africa takes the field in international events. Mostly I am thankful that I can now let it go and see it for what it is… Africa.