Travelogue: Durban

Jess writes:

Many of our fellow PCVs assigned to the KwaZulu Nataal province had been to Durban before, frequented it even, as their ultimate shopping down or get-away-destination. But for most of us in Mpumalanga and Limpopo, LST was our first visit to the sunny city. As I mentioned in a previous blog, ‘sunny’ was not an entirely accurate descriptor for the day we arrived and many of the training days that followed – for example, we left the Nkomazi region on a balmy 41C (about 106F) day and arrived in Durban the following day to a bone-chilling 22C (about 72F) – keep in mind, since we’ve been hovering around the high 30C’s to low 40C’s for over a month now… climate changes such as that above, well, pretty much suck. Furthermore, while Nkomazi experiences fairly frequent downpours in the late afternoons and evenings, we had spent most of the our recent days in the blistering sun, or rather, trying to get out of the blistering sun. And Durban, much to our surprise, was damp, grey and bordering on tropical storm-force winds for the first four days we were there. What the hell?!?

But hold on… because eventually the “Durban, as advertised” eventually began to take shape.

On almost the last day of training, the weather warmed to a vacation-esque temperature, the sun came out over the sand and surf, and finally (finally!) the promenade and boardwalk took on their much-anticipated, resort-style look: people walking and biking along the beach, children building castles in the sand, throngs of visitors splashing in the waves, and windows flung open from every street-side restaurant so that diners could enjoy the sea-salt breeze. Ahhh… now that’s more like it.

And once our outlook on the city had gone from drizzly to dreamy, we got a look at what Durban really has to offer:

First of all, many of us newcomers to Durban agreed that the city could be described best as “The South African Miami” – beachside, of course, but also overly-colorful, surprisingly dingy, and boasting that oh-so-tacky flare for tourism appeasement. But, then again, to Peace Corps Volunteers that live in cement huts in dusty villages, what’s not to love about that?!?

The promenade and boardwalk, just along the beaches of the Indian Ocean, boast overly-priced curios, and overly-tourist-friendly dining (i.e., basic American and European cuisine), but also serve as a great location to stroll, listen to the waves, and best of all – enjoy live music, drink in hand, overlooking the ocean at sunset. And of course, a group of us enjoyed an evening of doing just that, as a friend of a fellow PCV was playing at a local night spot while we were in town. I was surprised at how much enjoyment I got from something that was once so common-place at home: a drink at a bar, a little live music from some local talents, and just random chit-chat with friends… oh the things we take for granted when we have a little money, a little transport, and a little civilization. ;-)

Just off the boardwalk, there’s plenty of adolescents hawking umbrellas, broad-brimmed hats, and towels – which I always find humorous, since they are basing they’re sales on the assumption that you just might be the kind of beach-goer that would forget these necessities… when going to the beach! He he! But, hawkers and unprepared tourists aside, the beaches themselves are divine – soft sand between your toes, beautiful shells to collect along a walk, and surprisingly large waves in which to waste away the afternoon hours. And while you do have to stay ever-mindful of keeping within the boundaries of the shark nets (we have some pretty big sharks here!) and not getting tangled up in a semi-poisonous jellyfish, there are fairly helpful lifeguards to wave you in the right direction of the “safe swim zones” and pour vinegar on your tentacle stings. And hey, those worries are really nothing compared to the biggest concern of all: sunburn. What people say about the African sun here is unmistakably true – it is simply ten feet away from your face. All. Day. Long. Uh. But, once again, I am focusing more on the negatives… when in fact, all in all, if you arrive prepared (and with copious amounts of sunscreen), the Durban beaches are a veritable sun and surf oasis and I, like any native coaster, soaked up every minute of that at-home feeling!!

Okay, now moving off the beach: Perhaps Durban’s greatest claim to fame (aside from its beachside location) is its indulgence in anything and everything Indian. As Durban was the most popular port of entry for Indian immigrants to South Africa, the city has become saturated with the colors, smells, and flavors of the Indian culture. Every street corner boasts an Indian restaurant and every supermarket has an aisle dedicated to the ingredients necessary for a truly Indian dining experience. Thus, on our first day after training (since Peace Corps trainings always come with three, free meals a day and you would have to be crazy to pass that up on our stipends!), we headed out from the beach to find some eastern-flavored grub. The first place we came across was small, with no real attention to décor and a menu on the wall that boasted pictures of the listed meals – not necessarily a good sign. However, all the diners were clearly of Indian descent and all the staff was clearly related, with at least three generations represented – all very, very good signs. So we headed in. First thing we spotted was a generous selection of naan – good start! Next, was the generous selection of curries – also great! And when the server/grandfather came to take our order, he spoke softly, in broken English, and ensured us that our dining experience would be quite satisfying – now this is our kind of place! Since we had little knowledge of the vast array of Indian cuisine, Adam chose to ask the nice server/grandfather what he would suggest if his own family was eating in his establishment, and without even a second’s hesitation he declared (quietly, of course), “mutton curry”. Okay, mutton curry it is. And oh… my… gosh… mutton curry it was!!! Adam described the extremely-spicy-but-too-delicious-to-stop-eating-for-even-one-minute dish as the best food he has had to date in South Africa!! (And we all know that is a lot coming from Adam!!!) All I could say was “oh yum” and “okay, need bread and water”! Ha! So, first Indian food experience: success!

After lunch, we moved to our new locale for the weekend – Surf n’ Dreams backpacker – which is located quite conveniently to one of Durban’s street-long hotspots. Thus, that night we got to experience another side of Durban’s culinary scene: Florida Road. Pronounced Floor-eee-dah by the locals, this street offers every possible size, style and type of food that one can imagine – and all within in a 1k block! How glorious! Oh where to begin… there’s Bangkok Wok for Thai food, Simply Fish and Simply Sushi for any type of seafood you desire, Delux Burger for the basic and not-so-basic delite, Santorini for Mediterranean yumminess, Cubana Grill & Havana Lounge for some Latin flavor, Spiga for indulgent Italian, Butcher Boys for a big ol’ slab of meat, the all-but-required House of Curries for traditional Indian, and so much more! The group of lingering PCVs chose, as virtually mandated, Taco Zulus for some ooey-gooey Mexican… with real tortilla chips! Of course, we paired this lovingly with some margaritas and Coronas and had ourselves a wonderfully filling taco, nacho, and burrito feast! What a great end to our Durban training!

Over the weekend, the swarm of PCVs thinned out and our activities slowed to a relaxed, vacation pace. In particular, Saturday was perhaps our most relaxed and enjoyable day! We started off the day with a walk down Musgrave Street to the shopping center. Along the way, we ogled at unbelievable houses with a Miami-meets-Beverly-Hills style to them, each with manicured lawns, lush tropical gardens, and some form of ornate water feature drawing in every imaginable color of bird. Walking downhill on Musgrave, we got to see incredible views of Durban in the morning haze – the semi-skyscrapers with rooftop pools, the multi-colored apartment buildings, the gorgeous World Cup stadium, and of course the coast and beach in the distance. Once at the shopping center, we cut through the parking lot (we weren’t actually going to the shopping center!!) to get to Essenwood Street and hiked back up a few blocks to arrive at the Saturday Street Market. Not exactly on the street, but rather, in a gorgeous, green park, flanked with mini rolling hills (the perfect kind for sledding as a kid!), and stunningly tall trees that provided much-welcomed shade. The market itself, while traditionally Indian at heart, has expanded beyond roti wraps and sari stalls to include adorable children’s clothes, French breads & cheeses, massage stations, Swazi dress wraps, hand-woven hats & mittens, fresh cut exotic flowers, a miniature crèperie, a modern furniture and décor section, and even pony rides and water sports for kids! Not surprisingly, we were able to meander away most of the morning between the market stalls, eating our way through several of the day’s courses by the afternoon. Why can’t every village have a market like this to spend our Saturday mornings at?!?

When we had had our fill of marketing, two fellow PCVs led us to a hole-in-the-wall book store that was rumored to be well worth a look. And, as it turned out, Ike’s Bookstore was a pretty great way to spend the afternoon! Located just off the main drag of Florida Road, at a private entrance with a buzzer by the door, an antiqued staircase leads you to the semi-slanted, beautifully musty-scented interior of Ike’s. The bookstore itself is a converted apartment, with multiple rooms, a large common area, and an amazingly breezy and comfy wrap-around porch that overlooks the ever-bustling street below and the coastal side of downtown Durban. Each room of the store resembles something from the crazy, Great Expectations home of old Mrs. Havisham – each categorically fashioned to match the genre of books in that section. Thus, the décor boasts everything from massive wooden desks, old fashioned type writers, and Americana tin-plated adverts of sunny vacation destinations to hand-sculpted African buttresses, Apartheid-era paraphernalia, and Ndebele beaded jewelry. Likewise, the books are equally diverse, with titles ranging from 18th century British medical handbooks and original writings on the exploration of the African continent to James Beard’s books on fish cookery and colorful depictions of the American 1960’s. You could quite literally spend a couple days in this store and, since the wonderful shop manager questioned us enthusiastically about our service in the country and the store owner offered us some refreshing white wine to have with our conversation, we too stayed well past closing and indulged our inner-bibliophiles.

By the time that late afternoon approached, we made reservations at Spiga for large plates of Italian that night and began heading back up Florida Road to Surf n’ Dreams for a game of Hearts (since we had four! Yay!) by the pool. En route, however, we were met halfway by a gathering swarm of onlookers waiting for… well… we had no idea. As it turned out, there was an impromptu, down-hill, skateboarding race about to take place! Adding to the adventure was the fact that apparently no one had informed the authorities about this race and, therefore, the bustling Florida Road would not be closed for safety. Hmmm, this should be interesting… The skateboarders appeared, several in very creative and brightly colored jumpsuits, overalls, and patchwork pants and zig-zagged their way down the south-bound lane. Cars in the north-bound lane swerved frightfully out of the way to avoid those lazy riders that drifted across the lines…oops. There must have been at least a hundred of them! And eventually, from top to bottom, as far as you could see down the hill, skateboarders had taken over Florida Road and caused a completely stopped chaos of cars on all sides. At the tail end, a couple younger kids rode down the hill while sitting on the skateboard – much more comfortable I would think – and then finally, trailing behind the entire pack was one, lone police car… lights on, no siren, with an officer at the wheel that had an obvious expression of “how the hell did this happen…”. Ha! Silly Durban police officer!!

Returned to the backpacker. Cooled our feet in the pool. Talked about all the trouble we may one day get into during happy hours in Portland. Played a rousing game of Hearts (we’re dorks). Included lots of trash talk. Pet the cute backpacker dogs in their ridiculous little shirts (one says “I’m too cool for obedience school.” Oh my.) And then… Back to Spiga for a glorious dinner in a breezy courtyard, by a bubbling fountain, under the first string of Christmas lights to go up so far. And oh, the food! Quite possibly the best Italian we’ve had yet in the this country: thick spaghetti bolognaise, gnocchi in a creamy marinara sauce, raviolis in white wine reduction, and I paired mine with a peach belini…. Ah. In fact, on our last day in Durban, when we were doing nothing but relaxing at the backpacker (and my husband was recovering from an unknown fever… don’t worry, he’s much better now!), we got take-out from Spiga… of almost the exact same order. Yes, it was that good. And yes, if I had brought another backpack, I may have gotten take-out to bring back to site. Shame.

And there you have it. Durban in a weekend.

Needless to say, we could have stayed (and eaten) a little while longer…