Monday, December 10, 2001

South Africa December 2001

MY HOLIDAY (SO FAR…)

Chapter 1 – Pretoria and Johannesburg

After my very hurried decision to ‘fuck it all’ and get the hell out of cold, miserable London, I spent a very unpleasant night at Heathrow, due to an instruction by the airline to check in at 4.30AM. Naturally nothing actually opens at Heathrow until after 5AM, but I suppose I was at least in the front of the queue… Costa Coffee is the only light in the dark tunnel of a night spent at Heathrow, and much as I hate chains I succumbed to handing over vast sums of money to my corporate masters (I can only be grateful it isn’t a Starbucks as then I would have had to do without coffee at all).

Flight uneventful (Swiss Air’s food sucks, except the cheese and chocolate) and was met at the airport by old friends Henry, Gilda and Marcel. Back to Gilda and Marcel’s (in Jo’burg, which is now ‘Josie’ to the cool) for a few bevvies and a smoke, then slept till it was time to jump into the swimming pool. Of course it has been ‘too cold’ (?!?!?!?!) for the locals to swim, so they thought I was mad (the Brits Abroad, hey!) Then through to Pretoria to sort our visas for Mozambique (a decision to go was made within 5 minutes of landing: “Hi, how are you?” “Fine thanks, how are you?” “Fantastic, thanks. Do you want to go to Maputo?” “When do we leave?”). This could have been a nightmare of hellish queuing but luckily we were spotted by an enterprising gentleman who will stand in the queue for you for an extra 50 bucks. (At today’s exchange rate of R17.27 to the pound, that’s about £2.90…) Visas done we decided to re-immerse me in Pretoria culture and had a few drinks in a bar frequented by gun-toting off-duty policemen and people who are friends with them. All was disappointingly uneventful until one of them decided to jump in their car and do several handbrake turns in the middle of a four lane road. Oh how I miss Pretoria!

Then was dropped at my parents’ (who had no idea I was coming) and they were suitably surprised and it was great to see them.

Next day I explored the outer regions of the ‘largest shopping centre in the southern hemisphere’ to change money (that day I thought I was doing well getting R15.80 for the pound…) and came to grips with the sad reality that ‘shoppertainment’ is a fact of life in the New South Africa.

Following day picked up Debbie from the airport and informed her that she no choice in the matter, we were going to Mozambique (‘Moze’, to the cool) and that we had to sort her visa urgently next morning as it would was Friday and we were leaving on Sunday and embassy is not open on Saturdays. Debs put up no resistance. Again we contacted our gentleman who does the queuing (although this time she was a lady) and were told to pick up her passport at 6PM. Cool! So day spent at Voortrekker Monument and doing a few sights in Pretoria. At 6 we turn up to pick up the passport, but the queue is still as long as it was in the morning. We had to be in Josie shortly, so made the somewhat dodgy arrangement to pick up the passport from her personally on Saturday. We did think twice about doing this, but thought, what the hell, it is insured etc etc and took the chance. Astoundingly, all worked out well, we got the passport (duly visa’ed-up) at a clandestine meeting on the corner of a deserted shopping centre downtown somewhere. The African way of doing things really has loads of charm!

The Friday night we went to Josie (see, I’m cool!) to see Louis Maghlanga (jazz guitarist from Zimbabwe) who was fabtastic (we even did the groupie/tourist thing and took photos with him afterwards and bought a number of CDs). Great night, then back to Gilda and Marcel’s again for a long night of drinking, smoking and uncontrollable giggling.

Chapter 2 - Maputo

Left early Sunday morning for Moze, deciding to take the scenic route (well, the OTHER scenic route) and stopped at Pilgrims Rest (historic old gold-mining town that looks pretty much as it did and makes a fortune selling great food and silly trinkets to tourists, but definitely worth a visit) and then drove to Mac Mac pools for a brief paddle in cold, perfectly clean mountain spring that has the loveliest rock pools.

Headed back to the main road to Moze after that and were amazed and amused to find out that not only is the border now open 24 hours (it used to close at 7PM) but there was…. ALMOST NO QUEUE!!!! (Gilda and Henry have done this before and had to deal with an 8-hour queue…) Not only was there no queue, but the officials on the South African side of things were actually polite! Across no-mans land to the Mozambiquan side and again, they were almost (I mean almost) friendly. Of course no English is spoken by any of the border officials (Moze is an old Portuguese colony) but hand gestures and pointing and things got us to understand that after we have bought the ‘obligatory’ third party motor insurance, we had to take it to THAT counter and show it to the official there. That done (simple) we now have to pay the next fee in Metacais, not Rand. This means we have to go BACK to the guy who sold us the insurance to change money. Then back to the official (who, after having dealt with 2 other people after us, has completely forgotten that we need to pay him still) and a small hand-argument ensued. Easy enough, really and a great introduction to the way things are done in Mozambique!

Got to Maputo (capital of Moze) after dark and drove straight to the backpackers where we had a confirmed booking. Turned out that confirmed as much as it may be, there was in fact no record of the booking and our first adventure sent us far and wide in the streets of Maputo to find accommodation. This accomplished (more sign language, but everybody extremely helpful and friendly) we headed straight for the famed PeriPeri restaurant, one of the only restaurants to have survived the war. Huge numbers of prawns were consumed and even Debs (confirmed vegetarian) tried one and almost liked it. Many 2Ms later (local beer) we ended up sitting on a rooftop having a smoke and admiring the slum blocks of flats that rose way above us.

Maputo in general has been trying to recover from a 27 year war (ended 11 years ago) without much help and with much hindrance (floods last year, for example) so nothing has been painted in the last 40 years except the President’s Palace, the Supreme Court and the central Station (designed by Gustav Eiffel, no less). Debs and I were very happy to have Gilda there to do all the figuring out where we were, and both Gilda and Marcel to do the driving (Gilda being an old hand at this Maputo thang…)

Next day we had breakfast at the once-opulent ‘Continental Café’ and then Debs and I wandered and wandered, trying to find the station and the cathedral. Eventually a local said hello and we asked him where the station was. He offered to ‘escort’ us there, and we ended up spending the whole day with him, seeing some sights, doing the local busses and generally being informed about various aspects in Maputo. Cool day indeed.

By the time we located Gilda and Marcel that evening, they had in turn hunted down an old local acquaintance of Gilda and Henry’s from a former Mozie adventure who goes by the name of Signor Mario (that’s actually Marius, a South African expat who has lived in Maputo and on Inhaca Island for quite a few years). Signor Mario then proceeded to take us under his wing and showed us Maputo in style: great fish restaurant, properly local bars and even a sneaky swim at the very upmarket Indy club (something like a country club with bars in pools, drinks that cost the pool guy’s months wages and a real pool guy to lay out deck chairs in the sun, bring tables over and transfer drinks onto said tables.) Unfortunately we got bust and ended up having to pay US $5 each for the privilege, but it was worth it for the swim (it is VERY hot in Maputo and the beaches in Maputo are too dirty to swim.)

The best thing Mario took us to was the local fish market, fresh fish just off the boats. You go around and choose your fish (remembering to weigh it on the government scale, not the vendor’s) and then stroll twenty yards to a local little restaurant where they cook it up for you. What a feast! Definitely goes into my Top 5 Meals list (funny how all meals that feature on my list have been seafood): Clams to start, a whole crab each to follow, a kilo of prawns and a giant “garouper” (potato bass) – more than enough for 5 people for a total of R100 or about £6. Even Debs got stuck in, if to a slightly lesser degree. Makes a Fillet o’ Fish seem rather, well, vile…

Chapter 3 – Maganeta Island

Originally we had our hearts set on going to Inhaca island, but it proved very bloody difficult to get there, so Mario suggested we go to Maganeta Island instead – not an island island in the sense of surrounded by sea, but you do need to cross a river by ferry (EU regulations nowhere in sight, but we got across fine) to get there and then there is sea on the other side. So when you are on the beach (only 3 huts visible is as far as ‘development’ goes – not a single coke sign to be seen) you feel like the only people in the whole world and can give in to all your desert island fantasies. Experienced the most incredible storm just as dusk was falling – watched it approach and then swamp us completely. Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant! Naturally the bungalow we were staying in was not exactly waterproof and everything we possessed got completely soaked (including my brand new copy of Lord of the Rings, which still hasn’t dried out completely) but it was just so cool. Late night walk to beach after spliffage and millions of crabs running around and being creepy. They are just so gay! These camp little things running daintily along the beach with always two legs in the air and those funny stalk-like eyes. A bit weird in the dark!

Next morning Debs and I went for the longest of desert island walks and although we smeared ourselves completely with mega-high factor sunblock, we made the small mistake of forgetting that ‘waterproof’ does not mean you can walk in the little waves for four hours and expect to have any sunblock left on your feet. Ah, the Brits Abroad, hey! (I have become an honourary Brit Abroad after this little mistake…) We both have very sunburnt feet, but my feet also ended up swelling up like old ladies in wheelchair’s do. Could barely walk for two days and they still hurt like hell. I have managed to avoid having a photo taken of them, but suffice it to say I have been called The Gout Lady since then. Use your imagination.

Of course we missed the last ferry back off the island that evening, only realising this after sitting there for an hour saying confidently to ourselves “there are lots [about 5] of locals here, of course there is another ferry still!” It was only when the small rowing boat arrived to pick them all up (they were all on foot, we were in the car) that we realised we were in shit. Brave hero Marcel then jumped aboard the rowing boat and went in search of the ferryman on the other side. A very brief negotiation later (Marcel’s opening bid to get him to come and fetch us was about twice the guy’s monthly salary) the ferry was on it’s way and we got back to Maputo no problem. Another evening out aptly concluded by having mad officials to deal with and then back to Pretoria. What’s a trip to Africa without at least one bribe?

Chapter 4 – The Future

Nothing worth telling about having been back in Pretoria for a few days except Christmas shopping has been hell and now it IS Christmas and the Christmas eve family do was OK, especially since I have not been subjected to it for 7 years. There are a lot more babies than there ever were, and spouses! Another famdamily day tomorrow and then I am off the Jeffries Bay on Boxing Day. More beach (in SA this time) and hopefully some loverrrly Knysna oysters (Mmmmmmmmm……) and a chilled time. Then back to Blighty! Buggeration.

Hope you all had a fantastic Christmas (it is weird to have a hot Christmas again, I must say) and enjoy your New Year.

Lotsa love
Darryn