Jess writes:
Non-profit programs in South Africa are often given the title of a “scheme” – which to us sounds rather dubious, but simply translates to “program” in South African speak. So you will see odd-looking signs all over the country for “Medical Schemes”, “Collaboration Schemes”, and “Employment Schemes”. These all have the virtuous intent of helping persons in need, regardless of their less-than-well-intentioned-sounding names. Nevertheless, we still make the occasional joke in bad taste about a “Feeding Scheme” for OVCs – such as, “Oh yes, let’s lure in all these poor, orphaned and vulnerable children with the promise of hot and healthy food…and then…ha ha ha [evil laugh, of course]!” Yikes, not a good connotation at all!
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Travelogue: The Wild Coast & Coffee Bay
Jess writes:
Our final stop on the vacation agenda was to the ever-so-quiet and charming Coffee Bay. The actual roads to get there however, much like the weather conditions of the last stretch, were miserable! And by miserable, I mean both unbelievably incredible and utterly unbearable. From J-Bay, we headed towards Mthatha, ready to cover more than half of the stretch known as “The Wild Coast” in one 9-hour riding day. Luckily, there was far less rain than previously… unluckily, the roads took on a whole new meaning of “dangerous, curvy intersection ahead”. Every 10k there would be such a sign and for the majority of the trip, we gripped our seats and/or each other for fear of our lives. Okay, I’ll adjust that just slightly: I, more so than Adam, was doing most of the gripping and fearing and I would like to think that this was due more to the Mefloquin that has made me a paranoid schizophrenic than a lack of trust in the driver. Okay. Either way, it was maddeningly scary at times!!! But finally we had made it through the highest of the mountain passes and just before entering Mthatha town limits, we saw the understated sign on the side of the N2 pointing south, to Coffee Bay.
Now, I should start by saying that we had been both warned and hyped about this portion of the trek. “The road is the worst I have ever seen!” explained one traveler. “The views are some of the best in all of South Africa!” described another. Okay, well, let’s see…
Within minutes, the terrain changed from the rugged Wild Coast to a fairy-tale scape of slowly sloping green hills, trickling streams, and jagged gorges cutting through grassy lawns for as far as the eye could see. For the next 75k, we endured – as rightly described – some of the worst road conditions known to South Africa: extremely steep inclines, blind curves (and yes, some of those combined!), potholes the size of small countries, haphazard and notably hazardous patches of “construction” (read as: pavement-to-dirt-to-crumbling-pavement-again), and some of the fastest-changing weather conditions we had ever seen… “Oh look how beautiful the sun is over those hills… oh crap that looks like a massive rain storm… where the hell did this wind come from… oh, the sun is back out again…”! Eish! But along the entire trek, the scenery looked more like a backdrop for an exotic, African, Broadway show than an actual, real-life, place. Dotting the hills were bright blue, pink and yellow Xhosa rondavals with make-shift wooden fences and brightly-dressed Xhosa Gogos tending to hillside gardens. Some of these magnificent little homes were built precariously on the edge of slopes that dropped down to coves over a hundred meters below… not exactly the type of “backyard” I would want to find children playing in, but nevertheless breathtaking to see. It took some serious concentration to avoid the myriad obstacles that were also along the road (not just part of the road) – herds of stubborn cattle, flocks of trotting goats, and gaggles of geese. Then, as we got closer to Coffee Bay, we experienced the beautiful sightings of wild horses and interesting donkey breeds, some galloping along the hillsides and others, being ridden bareback by Xhosa children on their way to or from their various herds of livestock. How great!
Finally, after a two hour endeavor (yes, two yours to drive 75k!), we arrived in the town of Coffee Bay. Well, it’s not actually a town… in fact, I don’t even think you could call it a village… it’s really just the end point where the main road runs into the lower cliffs and ocean. There is only one “hotel” (think someone’s large house), two backpackers, one café, one restaurant, a small clothing hut, and an African Jahdrum store – all within a two minute walk of, well, everything else.
We unloaded at the Coffee Shack and began our whirl-wind tour of the premises with our friendly guide: “Activities here, internet is available, patio and tables, some chairs, oh and hammocks, the breakfast bar, the actual bar, our pool table, bathrooms there, dorms there, and here is your rondaval. And once you’re settled, close beach out that gate, main beach over the stream, dinner’s at 7pm, sign-up sheet here, and there’s your free Welcome Drink.” Whew! The Coffee Shack, as we soon discovered, is the equivalent of an all-inclusive, do nothing or do everything, resort of a backpacker – the best backpacker experience we’ve had in South Africa! The entire compound was nestled beneath a canopy of jungle trees and vines, with wooden patios and walkways going up, down, and around the various lounge spots – an enormous wooden table under thatch roof with a selection of board games strewn about, a stone “breakfast” nook carved into one of the foundational walls, a firepit built up alongside the bar, a dinner table under the breezy side of the main buildings eaves, lounge chairs and hammocks located wherever you pleased to nap or read, and a back lawn beyond the main buildings with a view of the rocky coastline and the cliffs. This was not a vacation spot. This was the realization of a storybook.
Your whole stay went on one tab – tricky, hey? – but made for an awesomely relaxed and carefree feeling of luxury. Breakfast was anything from eggs and toast and bacon to youghurt and fruit and granola. Lunch and snacks were toasties and crisps. Dinners were glorious three and four-course meals of soups, salads, meat, sides and dessert. Free tea and coffee to your heart’s content and, as though it had been ordered with your beverage, plenty of sunshine, cool breezes and an almost-mandatory afternoon siesta.
Each morning we were enticed to partake in the day’s adventure – hikes to coves, to mountains, through villages, etc. – and we were luckily allowed to decline any and all offers of physical exertion due to the fact that we had “completely forgotten to even pack a good pair of walking shoes, how could we?” Shame. (He he!) So we did exactly what we intended to do each day: nothing at all. Well, almost nothing. We slept in, read our books, I wrote in my journal, we took photos of snakes as they crawled through the brush, we chatted with the kids at the Craft Corner that were making wallets out of juice cartons, and on the very rare occasion that we felt like a very short walk, we hiked up the hill to the pizzeria with gorgeous views of little Coffee Bay and the huge Wild Coast coastline. At night, we would often rally together a group of people to play “30 Seconds” – the South African version of Catchphrase. One night, with a group of more than fifteen of us, we played our little, competitive hearts out. We divided the teams up based on their language categories for the ease of guessing: Team 1 was the German, Dutch and Flemish speakers, Team 2 was the South African team with a mix of Afrikaans and English, Team 3 was a mishmash of EU-ers speaking Spanish/French/other, and Team 4 was Me, Adam, and Jackie – a new friend from Australia, that everyone dubbed “The Americans” and that we switched to “The A-Team” to rightfully include Australia! We drank slightly too much and got slightly too excited and, on more than one occasion, were jumping out of our seats to shout out clues that were only remotely related to the actual words. And even though our A-Team was at a definite disadvantage since a majority of the questions related to rugby and cricket (yeah, like I know anything there), we actually managed to win more than one of the games that night and technically took the official winning title! Go A-Team!!
As it neared Christmas, festivities went into full swing and PCVs from every corner of the southern continent were pouring in to enjoy the Coffee Shack celebrations. The largest of the events would be a full-day, Christmas Eve extravaganza, including hikes, drinks, gifts, plenty of entertainment, and tons and tons and tons of food! We spent the morning on the main beach that was, quite literally, “over the river and through the woods” from the backpacker and then hung around the Coffee Shack to greet fellow SA volunteers as they arrived for the holidays.
In the late afternoon, we all piled into the Coffee Shack vans (and a couple random guests cars as well, since there were so many of us) and drove the long, steep road up to the highest cliff on the bay. There, with free gin and tonics, oysters and mussels, we could see the whole of Coffee Bay – with its jagged cliffs and crashing waves and sandy stretches of beaches that end in misty coves and tunnels. We listened to the tide coming in, the wind in the grasses, and the not-so-distant hooves of mountain goats perched on the ledges. And as the evening approached, we sipped on our cocktails and enjoyed our hors d’oeuvres as the sun set over the ocean and lit up the sea spray in magnificent shades of pink and rose. Absolutely beautiful!
Back down at the backpacker, the staff was preparing for a feast – one that I can honestly say would rival any American Thanksgiving! In the meantime, we all gathered around for a Christmas Eve toast and enjoyed cups of chilled champagne with the use of our Coffee Shack Christmas gifts of Coffee Shack cozies! And then dinner was served – roasted turkey, glazed gammon, roast beef, butternut squash, zucchini and corn fritters, baby potatoes with honey mustard dressing, green salads, pasta salads, three bean salads, chickpea and lentil tabouli, yams, beets, apple sauce, cranberry sauce, salsa, gravy and Xhosa bread!! And then there was still dessert of Christmas Cake in brandy butter, cheesecake and fruit salad!!! Everyone piled around the various tables and seating areas, with plates overflowing and steaming, and took their first bites of Christmas supper. After a few bites of my own, I looked up and smiled at the hodgepodge of fellow travelers around us – travelers from Europe, the U.K. and Australia, ex-patriots from the states and Asia, short-term inhabitants and volunteers from all over Africa – everyone indulging in their feasts, exchanging stories and jokes, sharing bits of nostalgia about holiday traditions back home, drinking a little too much champagne, and cooling off in the nighttime breezes of a warm, Christmas Eve. This certainly wasn’t our normal Christmas, but it certainly would be one to remember!
After several more beverages, we had quite a group of English and semi-English speaking guests belting out the words (or at least the words that we thought were the words) to some of our carol favorites – Jingle Bells (with bell sound effects), Rudolph (with all the various and varying additions), Silent Night (a little too serious for our mood), Deck the Halls (the clean and the not-so-clean version), and finally, The Little Drummer Boy (we basically sucked at this one… except for the “ba-rump-a-rump-bum” parts)!! Later in the evening, the firepit was lit ablaze and the guys from Jah Drummer came down for a multi-hour drumming, jam session – the staff danced, the staffs’ kids danced, the guests danced – it was a virtual nightclub of African drums and Xhosa dance moves under the jungle canopy decorated with Christmas lights. You could feel the beating in your chest, like your heart jumping to every palm on the drum, and we just watched and watched and watched.
Finally, when the party started weaning into Christmas day, most of made our way back to our bunks for a long night of deep, deep sleep – with the smell of mosquito coils replacing images of sugarplums dancing in our head, and drying towels and swim suits where stockings should have been hung – but we slept nonetheless. Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night.
Christmas Day was quiet, slow, and reminiscent of the carols and drumming the night before. We ate and napped and took some drives along the coast to see the sights. Afterall, before leaving Coffee Bay, we would have to see “Hole in the Wall”. A group piled into one of the Coffee Shack cars and we made our bumpy way out to the great mountain in the middle of the sea. We hiked the last kilometer along the grass and then stood on the edge of the hill, overlooking the gigantic rock formation standing strong against the crashing waves. And yes, as it is aptly called, it does have an enormous hole at its center, carved out by swirling riptides and smashing waters, so that it resembles something of an over-sized, ancient Arc du Triomphe plopped down in the middle of the Indian Ocean. Pretty cool!
Driving back down to the beaches, we enjoyed beautiful vistas of the coastline and, as before, the sight of gorgeous wild horses along the narrowest slopes of the hills. Back to Coffee Shack, we lounged on the back lawn for a Christmas Day lunch of braai, burgers, and salads and then retired under the thatch covers as an afternoon storm passed overhead and cooled the air just before evening. Just as the rain had ended, steaming bowls of butternut squash soup were served up with enormous chunks of Xhosa bread and we all reclined in lounge chairs to enjoy the hot concoction in the chilly night air… in fact, if you closed your eyes and tried hard enough, you could almost feel the outside cold and inside warmth of a Christmas night… almost. But either way, it was truly a Merry Christmas!
The next day we had to head out… leaving behind this majestic little world of trees and beach and relaxation. My eyes were drawn to the sideview mirrors as we made our way back to the main road, catching every last glimpse of this place that I could as we drove away.
And then it was gone. And we were back. And that exotic holiday getaway already seemed like a dream or distant memory. But when I think back on it… I can still smell the food, and feel the breeze, and hear the waves, and see the sun setting over the cliffs… I don’t think I will ever forget this most different of Christmases that we spent here, in Africa.
Our final stop on the vacation agenda was to the ever-so-quiet and charming Coffee Bay. The actual roads to get there however, much like the weather conditions of the last stretch, were miserable! And by miserable, I mean both unbelievably incredible and utterly unbearable. From J-Bay, we headed towards Mthatha, ready to cover more than half of the stretch known as “The Wild Coast” in one 9-hour riding day. Luckily, there was far less rain than previously… unluckily, the roads took on a whole new meaning of “dangerous, curvy intersection ahead”. Every 10k there would be such a sign and for the majority of the trip, we gripped our seats and/or each other for fear of our lives. Okay, I’ll adjust that just slightly: I, more so than Adam, was doing most of the gripping and fearing and I would like to think that this was due more to the Mefloquin that has made me a paranoid schizophrenic than a lack of trust in the driver. Okay. Either way, it was maddeningly scary at times!!! But finally we had made it through the highest of the mountain passes and just before entering Mthatha town limits, we saw the understated sign on the side of the N2 pointing south, to Coffee Bay.
Now, I should start by saying that we had been both warned and hyped about this portion of the trek. “The road is the worst I have ever seen!” explained one traveler. “The views are some of the best in all of South Africa!” described another. Okay, well, let’s see…
Within minutes, the terrain changed from the rugged Wild Coast to a fairy-tale scape of slowly sloping green hills, trickling streams, and jagged gorges cutting through grassy lawns for as far as the eye could see. For the next 75k, we endured – as rightly described – some of the worst road conditions known to South Africa: extremely steep inclines, blind curves (and yes, some of those combined!), potholes the size of small countries, haphazard and notably hazardous patches of “construction” (read as: pavement-to-dirt-to-crumbling-pavement-again), and some of the fastest-changing weather conditions we had ever seen… “Oh look how beautiful the sun is over those hills… oh crap that looks like a massive rain storm… where the hell did this wind come from… oh, the sun is back out again…”! Eish! But along the entire trek, the scenery looked more like a backdrop for an exotic, African, Broadway show than an actual, real-life, place. Dotting the hills were bright blue, pink and yellow Xhosa rondavals with make-shift wooden fences and brightly-dressed Xhosa Gogos tending to hillside gardens. Some of these magnificent little homes were built precariously on the edge of slopes that dropped down to coves over a hundred meters below… not exactly the type of “backyard” I would want to find children playing in, but nevertheless breathtaking to see. It took some serious concentration to avoid the myriad obstacles that were also along the road (not just part of the road) – herds of stubborn cattle, flocks of trotting goats, and gaggles of geese. Then, as we got closer to Coffee Bay, we experienced the beautiful sightings of wild horses and interesting donkey breeds, some galloping along the hillsides and others, being ridden bareback by Xhosa children on their way to or from their various herds of livestock. How great!
Finally, after a two hour endeavor (yes, two yours to drive 75k!), we arrived in the town of Coffee Bay. Well, it’s not actually a town… in fact, I don’t even think you could call it a village… it’s really just the end point where the main road runs into the lower cliffs and ocean. There is only one “hotel” (think someone’s large house), two backpackers, one café, one restaurant, a small clothing hut, and an African Jahdrum store – all within a two minute walk of, well, everything else.
We unloaded at the Coffee Shack and began our whirl-wind tour of the premises with our friendly guide: “Activities here, internet is available, patio and tables, some chairs, oh and hammocks, the breakfast bar, the actual bar, our pool table, bathrooms there, dorms there, and here is your rondaval. And once you’re settled, close beach out that gate, main beach over the stream, dinner’s at 7pm, sign-up sheet here, and there’s your free Welcome Drink.” Whew! The Coffee Shack, as we soon discovered, is the equivalent of an all-inclusive, do nothing or do everything, resort of a backpacker – the best backpacker experience we’ve had in South Africa! The entire compound was nestled beneath a canopy of jungle trees and vines, with wooden patios and walkways going up, down, and around the various lounge spots – an enormous wooden table under thatch roof with a selection of board games strewn about, a stone “breakfast” nook carved into one of the foundational walls, a firepit built up alongside the bar, a dinner table under the breezy side of the main buildings eaves, lounge chairs and hammocks located wherever you pleased to nap or read, and a back lawn beyond the main buildings with a view of the rocky coastline and the cliffs. This was not a vacation spot. This was the realization of a storybook.
Your whole stay went on one tab – tricky, hey? – but made for an awesomely relaxed and carefree feeling of luxury. Breakfast was anything from eggs and toast and bacon to youghurt and fruit and granola. Lunch and snacks were toasties and crisps. Dinners were glorious three and four-course meals of soups, salads, meat, sides and dessert. Free tea and coffee to your heart’s content and, as though it had been ordered with your beverage, plenty of sunshine, cool breezes and an almost-mandatory afternoon siesta.
Each morning we were enticed to partake in the day’s adventure – hikes to coves, to mountains, through villages, etc. – and we were luckily allowed to decline any and all offers of physical exertion due to the fact that we had “completely forgotten to even pack a good pair of walking shoes, how could we?” Shame. (He he!) So we did exactly what we intended to do each day: nothing at all. Well, almost nothing. We slept in, read our books, I wrote in my journal, we took photos of snakes as they crawled through the brush, we chatted with the kids at the Craft Corner that were making wallets out of juice cartons, and on the very rare occasion that we felt like a very short walk, we hiked up the hill to the pizzeria with gorgeous views of little Coffee Bay and the huge Wild Coast coastline. At night, we would often rally together a group of people to play “30 Seconds” – the South African version of Catchphrase. One night, with a group of more than fifteen of us, we played our little, competitive hearts out. We divided the teams up based on their language categories for the ease of guessing: Team 1 was the German, Dutch and Flemish speakers, Team 2 was the South African team with a mix of Afrikaans and English, Team 3 was a mishmash of EU-ers speaking Spanish/French/other, and Team 4 was Me, Adam, and Jackie – a new friend from Australia, that everyone dubbed “The Americans” and that we switched to “The A-Team” to rightfully include Australia! We drank slightly too much and got slightly too excited and, on more than one occasion, were jumping out of our seats to shout out clues that were only remotely related to the actual words. And even though our A-Team was at a definite disadvantage since a majority of the questions related to rugby and cricket (yeah, like I know anything there), we actually managed to win more than one of the games that night and technically took the official winning title! Go A-Team!!
As it neared Christmas, festivities went into full swing and PCVs from every corner of the southern continent were pouring in to enjoy the Coffee Shack celebrations. The largest of the events would be a full-day, Christmas Eve extravaganza, including hikes, drinks, gifts, plenty of entertainment, and tons and tons and tons of food! We spent the morning on the main beach that was, quite literally, “over the river and through the woods” from the backpacker and then hung around the Coffee Shack to greet fellow SA volunteers as they arrived for the holidays.
In the late afternoon, we all piled into the Coffee Shack vans (and a couple random guests cars as well, since there were so many of us) and drove the long, steep road up to the highest cliff on the bay. There, with free gin and tonics, oysters and mussels, we could see the whole of Coffee Bay – with its jagged cliffs and crashing waves and sandy stretches of beaches that end in misty coves and tunnels. We listened to the tide coming in, the wind in the grasses, and the not-so-distant hooves of mountain goats perched on the ledges. And as the evening approached, we sipped on our cocktails and enjoyed our hors d’oeuvres as the sun set over the ocean and lit up the sea spray in magnificent shades of pink and rose. Absolutely beautiful!
Back down at the backpacker, the staff was preparing for a feast – one that I can honestly say would rival any American Thanksgiving! In the meantime, we all gathered around for a Christmas Eve toast and enjoyed cups of chilled champagne with the use of our Coffee Shack Christmas gifts of Coffee Shack cozies! And then dinner was served – roasted turkey, glazed gammon, roast beef, butternut squash, zucchini and corn fritters, baby potatoes with honey mustard dressing, green salads, pasta salads, three bean salads, chickpea and lentil tabouli, yams, beets, apple sauce, cranberry sauce, salsa, gravy and Xhosa bread!! And then there was still dessert of Christmas Cake in brandy butter, cheesecake and fruit salad!!! Everyone piled around the various tables and seating areas, with plates overflowing and steaming, and took their first bites of Christmas supper. After a few bites of my own, I looked up and smiled at the hodgepodge of fellow travelers around us – travelers from Europe, the U.K. and Australia, ex-patriots from the states and Asia, short-term inhabitants and volunteers from all over Africa – everyone indulging in their feasts, exchanging stories and jokes, sharing bits of nostalgia about holiday traditions back home, drinking a little too much champagne, and cooling off in the nighttime breezes of a warm, Christmas Eve. This certainly wasn’t our normal Christmas, but it certainly would be one to remember!
After several more beverages, we had quite a group of English and semi-English speaking guests belting out the words (or at least the words that we thought were the words) to some of our carol favorites – Jingle Bells (with bell sound effects), Rudolph (with all the various and varying additions), Silent Night (a little too serious for our mood), Deck the Halls (the clean and the not-so-clean version), and finally, The Little Drummer Boy (we basically sucked at this one… except for the “ba-rump-a-rump-bum” parts)!! Later in the evening, the firepit was lit ablaze and the guys from Jah Drummer came down for a multi-hour drumming, jam session – the staff danced, the staffs’ kids danced, the guests danced – it was a virtual nightclub of African drums and Xhosa dance moves under the jungle canopy decorated with Christmas lights. You could feel the beating in your chest, like your heart jumping to every palm on the drum, and we just watched and watched and watched.
Finally, when the party started weaning into Christmas day, most of made our way back to our bunks for a long night of deep, deep sleep – with the smell of mosquito coils replacing images of sugarplums dancing in our head, and drying towels and swim suits where stockings should have been hung – but we slept nonetheless. Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night.
Christmas Day was quiet, slow, and reminiscent of the carols and drumming the night before. We ate and napped and took some drives along the coast to see the sights. Afterall, before leaving Coffee Bay, we would have to see “Hole in the Wall”. A group piled into one of the Coffee Shack cars and we made our bumpy way out to the great mountain in the middle of the sea. We hiked the last kilometer along the grass and then stood on the edge of the hill, overlooking the gigantic rock formation standing strong against the crashing waves. And yes, as it is aptly called, it does have an enormous hole at its center, carved out by swirling riptides and smashing waters, so that it resembles something of an over-sized, ancient Arc du Triomphe plopped down in the middle of the Indian Ocean. Pretty cool!
Driving back down to the beaches, we enjoyed beautiful vistas of the coastline and, as before, the sight of gorgeous wild horses along the narrowest slopes of the hills. Back to Coffee Shack, we lounged on the back lawn for a Christmas Day lunch of braai, burgers, and salads and then retired under the thatch covers as an afternoon storm passed overhead and cooled the air just before evening. Just as the rain had ended, steaming bowls of butternut squash soup were served up with enormous chunks of Xhosa bread and we all reclined in lounge chairs to enjoy the hot concoction in the chilly night air… in fact, if you closed your eyes and tried hard enough, you could almost feel the outside cold and inside warmth of a Christmas night… almost. But either way, it was truly a Merry Christmas!
The next day we had to head out… leaving behind this majestic little world of trees and beach and relaxation. My eyes were drawn to the sideview mirrors as we made our way back to the main road, catching every last glimpse of this place that I could as we drove away.
And then it was gone. And we were back. And that exotic holiday getaway already seemed like a dream or distant memory. But when I think back on it… I can still smell the food, and feel the breeze, and hear the waves, and see the sun setting over the cliffs… I don’t think I will ever forget this most different of Christmases that we spent here, in Africa.
Travelogue: The Garden Route & Jeffrey’s Bay
Jess writes:
Leaving Wine Country, we followed the N2 along the Southern Coast of South Africa – passing signs along the way for shark diving and whale watching in Hermanus, penguin beaches along the bays, and Cape Agulhas – the actual cape where the Atlantic and Indian Oceans merge in a swirling revelry of chaos. The morning drive was incredible, as we took in the most diverse and ever-changing string of scenery as we continued further – starting with the craggy mountains of the Wine Region, leading to long and low-lying plains reminiscent of the Midwest, to Scottish-style green hills rolling alongside rivers, to Southeast-Asian style mountain tops peeking out from mystic jungle vines, and then finally, as the N2 met up with the north-bending coastline, we began to feel the seaspray in the area.
Passing through Mossel Bay, we had officially entered the “Garden Route” – a stretch of road almost 300k long, ending around Tsitsikamma Nature Preserve, that is often described as a “Taste of Eden” , an incredible, unmissable, unbelievably breathtaking, must-do while visiting/living in South Africa. We were so well prepared: I had both photo and video camera in hand, the windows were propped open for clear views, and we sat ready and willing to breathe in all that the Garden Route had to offer…
And that’s when it started to rain. A thick ocean-drawn fog flooded across the road and just as we were passing the first official South African Travel Bureau sign for “The Garden Route”, the skies opened up and poured and we were forced to crawl along the N2 at a miserably slow pace since the driver couldn’t see more than two meters ahead of the vehicle. And as some bad form of misplaced, previous, travel karma would have it, the clouds only parted as we drove through the toll gates at Tsitsikamma… the end of the Garden Route. Awesome.
Nevertheless, we did get to enjoy the last stretch of road from the nature preserve to Jeffrey’s Bay in reasonably good weather, which at least allowed for us to take in the incredible bridge passes over gaping, limestone gorges and the sight of the last remnants of fog as they sat on the tops of the forests of skinny evergreens.
We arrived in J-Bay in late afternoon and checked into the conveniently located Jeffrey’s Bay Backpackers. Lonely Planet and Coast-to-Coast had both described this place first and foremost as “colorful”. And oh my, this was not a joke. The entire backpacker was decked out in the craziest pairings of neon, pastel, and dark matte colors – bright blue on one wall, a neutral pink on another, blinding yellow on the door, and psychedelic drawings, equally colorful, or flowers, trees, landscapes, and animals throughout the entire place. The dorm was adjoined to an outside bar – how capitalistic! – and was a similarly out of control hodge-podge of wooden tables, street signs, fabric curtains, Christmas lights, and walls that had been graffitied and marked across every possible inch!
Fearing an overstimulation of some sort, we dropped our stuff and headed straight to the only Mexican restaurant listed in the whole town, named originally, “The Mexican”. And, must to our surprise, it was some of the best Mexican food we had chowed down to date in South Africa! Yum! And since the rain storm we had managed to get ahead of on the N2 was now barreling down on the coastal town, we opted to finish off the day with a western-style evening up at Fountain’s Mall to see the newly-released Harry Potter 7.1!! I was soooo excited and it was soooo worth it!! (Lots of ‘o’s for dramatic effect!)
We spent the following days lazily meandering around downtown J-Bay and walking along the beaches. The town itself – aside from being the surf capital of South Africa – does not have much to offer as a tourist attraction. Thus, it was the perfect layover along the N2 to lounge away a couple days with absolutely no plans at all. We strolled the streets and marveled at the unbelievable number of surf-related gear and parafanalia shops – Quicksilver, Ripcurl, Billabong, and a whole slew of others – as well as a great little selection of tasty eats for breakfast at Sunflower Café and more than one stop at The Greek for dinners of chicken and lamb souvlaki wraps and the most amazing baklava and ice cream for dessert! We spent the evenings at the backpacker bar, meeting all sorts of people – equally colorful to match the whole backpacker vibe – and chatted with SA-ers and foreigners about everything from local languages, sky-diving, surfing (of course) and perhaps the most entertaining of all, a full dissertation on the “basics” (yeah, right) of the oh-so-curious-and-confusing game of cricket!
On our last day in J-Bay, we made our way back down to “Supertubes” – the famed surfer spot that hosts the Billabong Pro Championship each July. In the offseason of December, the waves are far more tame and it’s a great place to walk barefoot in the sand, look for shells, and stand a while in the shallowest parts of the surf to feel your feet sink. Pepper Street, the primary gateway to Supertubes is home to row after row of dingy-looking surfer hostels and a handful of quirky surf shops – one in particular, a surf-themed photography and art store, captured our attention for over an hour while we perused the merchandise depicting 1960’s VW vans stacked ten boards high and the books on the history of the South African surf industry. Before trekking back to our dorm for a final night’s stay, we indulged – no, let me take that back, overindulged – in a massive platter of the freshest of fresh fish n’chips at Die Vismandjie on De Gama Street. The fish was perfectly crisp, the fries were perfectly un-slopped, and best of all, an enormous container of real (yes, real!) malt vinegar sat at the center of each table! Now that is how you serve a basket of fried goodness!
Okay, so let’s review: Surf stores – check. Mexican & Greek food – check. Cool little surf-inspired art shop – check. Battered seafood – check. Sand between our toes – check.
Alrighty then, on we go…
Leaving Wine Country, we followed the N2 along the Southern Coast of South Africa – passing signs along the way for shark diving and whale watching in Hermanus, penguin beaches along the bays, and Cape Agulhas – the actual cape where the Atlantic and Indian Oceans merge in a swirling revelry of chaos. The morning drive was incredible, as we took in the most diverse and ever-changing string of scenery as we continued further – starting with the craggy mountains of the Wine Region, leading to long and low-lying plains reminiscent of the Midwest, to Scottish-style green hills rolling alongside rivers, to Southeast-Asian style mountain tops peeking out from mystic jungle vines, and then finally, as the N2 met up with the north-bending coastline, we began to feel the seaspray in the area.
Passing through Mossel Bay, we had officially entered the “Garden Route” – a stretch of road almost 300k long, ending around Tsitsikamma Nature Preserve, that is often described as a “Taste of Eden” , an incredible, unmissable, unbelievably breathtaking, must-do while visiting/living in South Africa. We were so well prepared: I had both photo and video camera in hand, the windows were propped open for clear views, and we sat ready and willing to breathe in all that the Garden Route had to offer…
And that’s when it started to rain. A thick ocean-drawn fog flooded across the road and just as we were passing the first official South African Travel Bureau sign for “The Garden Route”, the skies opened up and poured and we were forced to crawl along the N2 at a miserably slow pace since the driver couldn’t see more than two meters ahead of the vehicle. And as some bad form of misplaced, previous, travel karma would have it, the clouds only parted as we drove through the toll gates at Tsitsikamma… the end of the Garden Route. Awesome.
Nevertheless, we did get to enjoy the last stretch of road from the nature preserve to Jeffrey’s Bay in reasonably good weather, which at least allowed for us to take in the incredible bridge passes over gaping, limestone gorges and the sight of the last remnants of fog as they sat on the tops of the forests of skinny evergreens.
We arrived in J-Bay in late afternoon and checked into the conveniently located Jeffrey’s Bay Backpackers. Lonely Planet and Coast-to-Coast had both described this place first and foremost as “colorful”. And oh my, this was not a joke. The entire backpacker was decked out in the craziest pairings of neon, pastel, and dark matte colors – bright blue on one wall, a neutral pink on another, blinding yellow on the door, and psychedelic drawings, equally colorful, or flowers, trees, landscapes, and animals throughout the entire place. The dorm was adjoined to an outside bar – how capitalistic! – and was a similarly out of control hodge-podge of wooden tables, street signs, fabric curtains, Christmas lights, and walls that had been graffitied and marked across every possible inch!
Fearing an overstimulation of some sort, we dropped our stuff and headed straight to the only Mexican restaurant listed in the whole town, named originally, “The Mexican”. And, must to our surprise, it was some of the best Mexican food we had chowed down to date in South Africa! Yum! And since the rain storm we had managed to get ahead of on the N2 was now barreling down on the coastal town, we opted to finish off the day with a western-style evening up at Fountain’s Mall to see the newly-released Harry Potter 7.1!! I was soooo excited and it was soooo worth it!! (Lots of ‘o’s for dramatic effect!)
We spent the following days lazily meandering around downtown J-Bay and walking along the beaches. The town itself – aside from being the surf capital of South Africa – does not have much to offer as a tourist attraction. Thus, it was the perfect layover along the N2 to lounge away a couple days with absolutely no plans at all. We strolled the streets and marveled at the unbelievable number of surf-related gear and parafanalia shops – Quicksilver, Ripcurl, Billabong, and a whole slew of others – as well as a great little selection of tasty eats for breakfast at Sunflower Café and more than one stop at The Greek for dinners of chicken and lamb souvlaki wraps and the most amazing baklava and ice cream for dessert! We spent the evenings at the backpacker bar, meeting all sorts of people – equally colorful to match the whole backpacker vibe – and chatted with SA-ers and foreigners about everything from local languages, sky-diving, surfing (of course) and perhaps the most entertaining of all, a full dissertation on the “basics” (yeah, right) of the oh-so-curious-and-confusing game of cricket!
On our last day in J-Bay, we made our way back down to “Supertubes” – the famed surfer spot that hosts the Billabong Pro Championship each July. In the offseason of December, the waves are far more tame and it’s a great place to walk barefoot in the sand, look for shells, and stand a while in the shallowest parts of the surf to feel your feet sink. Pepper Street, the primary gateway to Supertubes is home to row after row of dingy-looking surfer hostels and a handful of quirky surf shops – one in particular, a surf-themed photography and art store, captured our attention for over an hour while we perused the merchandise depicting 1960’s VW vans stacked ten boards high and the books on the history of the South African surf industry. Before trekking back to our dorm for a final night’s stay, we indulged – no, let me take that back, overindulged – in a massive platter of the freshest of fresh fish n’chips at Die Vismandjie on De Gama Street. The fish was perfectly crisp, the fries were perfectly un-slopped, and best of all, an enormous container of real (yes, real!) malt vinegar sat at the center of each table! Now that is how you serve a basket of fried goodness!
Okay, so let’s review: Surf stores – check. Mexican & Greek food – check. Cool little surf-inspired art shop – check. Battered seafood – check. Sand between our toes – check.
Alrighty then, on we go…
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
RWO: Boobs. (Really Guys, it’s Just Boobs.)
Jess writes:
Boobs are so not a big deal here. However, everything from the waist to the knees are. So, all females are required to wear clothing that completely (and I mean completely) covers the hips, butt, thighs, and even the knees (these rules aren’t quite as strict for younger girls). On the other hand, it is entirely acceptable for females (even older females!) to wear shirts that show copious amounts of cleavage and to breast-feed anywhere, including meetings (I’m less shocked by the latter of those two norms). In fact, it is even culturally acceptable for young females (those unmarried and without children) to walk around entirely topless and while this is not a daily occurrence in the rural areas, it is surprisingly common in the extremely rural villages and cultural centers. Intriguing!
Boobs are so not a big deal here. However, everything from the waist to the knees are. So, all females are required to wear clothing that completely (and I mean completely) covers the hips, butt, thighs, and even the knees (these rules aren’t quite as strict for younger girls). On the other hand, it is entirely acceptable for females (even older females!) to wear shirts that show copious amounts of cleavage and to breast-feed anywhere, including meetings (I’m less shocked by the latter of those two norms). In fact, it is even culturally acceptable for young females (those unmarried and without children) to walk around entirely topless and while this is not a daily occurrence in the rural areas, it is surprisingly common in the extremely rural villages and cultural centers. Intriguing!
RWO: A Boy Named "Kentucky"
Jess writes:
Children’s names are often reflective of the family’s feelings about the birth event in South Africa. For example, a first-born girl may be named “Happiness”, but a second girl (with no boys in between) may just be named “Again”. On the other hand, boys are almost always given names of optimism, such as “Gift”, “Blessing” or “Thanks”. Our youngest host brother, however, is the fourth in the family, and his name means simply, “The Children are Enough”! Naming is so experience based, in fact, we’ve heard that the year that KFC opened in South Africa, a surprisingly large proportion of the boys were actually named “Kentucky”. Oh how original!
Children’s names are often reflective of the family’s feelings about the birth event in South Africa. For example, a first-born girl may be named “Happiness”, but a second girl (with no boys in between) may just be named “Again”. On the other hand, boys are almost always given names of optimism, such as “Gift”, “Blessing” or “Thanks”. Our youngest host brother, however, is the fourth in the family, and his name means simply, “The Children are Enough”! Naming is so experience based, in fact, we’ve heard that the year that KFC opened in South Africa, a surprisingly large proportion of the boys were actually named “Kentucky”. Oh how original!
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