In India, but writing about Africa...crazy!

(NOTE: I have updated the previous two posts with PICTURES (!) and some new stories and edits, check them out, they're super!)

March 7, 20:15

PALOLEM, India

An update! With pictures and text! That’s properly formatted! A miracle!

SO…as the lead-in states, I have successfully arrived in India, and am currently experiencing the most relaxed time of my life in the South-western state of Goa, at a small (read: tiny) town of Palolem, about an hour South of Margao, and if that doesn’t help you place it…well, me either really.

First things first, I haven’t updated since I left Cape town and any number of shenanigans, hootenannies and tomfoolery has since ensued...


Such as that I had grown a full beard. I was trying to look wise here. I'm not sure if it worked




...said mischief starting within 3 hours of my arrival as the power to the entire city went out. Since I had arrived at 9pm on a Saturday, the screaming, horn honking, running-out-on-bar-tabs and general chaos were truly something to behold. I had spent most of my evening at a little joint called “Mama Africa’s” which boasted, among insanely expensive beers, a live 4 piece band, 3 pieces of which consisted of marimbas. It was an excellent start to my time in South Africa.

The power blew at about midnight, so I quickly ran up to the roof of my hostel and watched as it intermittently came back on, to loud screaming from the bar patrons, then went back out, to further screaming, then came back on then went off (screaming etc. ad infinitum).

What with the rash of movies out right now whose main focus is backpackers being hacked to death in hostels, it was slightly unnerving, to say the least, to be wandering down dark corridors in a new city at 2am, with only the light from my 5 dollar Target-bought watch to guide me.

Still, fun was had.


Fun in Cape Town!





Much of my time in Cape Town was spent finding out interesting solutions to the lack of electricity. As the power went out for many hours every day, with absolutely no way to predict it, it was important to 1. eat frequently, as you weren’t sure when you would be able to grocery shop, go to a restaurant etc again 2. get money, as the ATM’s, apparently, need electricity and 3. get any necessary travel planning done as fast as possible, as most of such traveling involves computers and internet, which, I have again been informed, use electricity.

I spent the following day (Sunday) with a friend who I met on the plane down from London several weeks before named Dunya who is a superb person and a very good driver, as well as knowing all of the spots which could be considered “hot” in greater Cape Town. We hit a number of beaches, had some delicious ice cream and went for “sundowners” (drinking as the sun sets roughly 10 feet away from you). Unfortunately, as Dunya is currently attending “varsity” (or “college” as some of us call it) we weren’t able to hang out further.

Thanks again Dunya!

I did some other stuff not really worth mentioning, then climbed Table Mountain. This is a big moutain. Flat on top. Guess how it got it’s name?

The climb up was challenging,


This is more than halfway up






but it was the coming down that nearly killed me. Almost literally, as apparently it is unwise to race the mountain guides down a nearly vertical rocky trail composed largely of loose earth, gravel and pointy things. For the record, I won the race up, and the group of guides-in-training absolutely schooled me on the way down. I will be returning for a rematch soon…

Fortunately, the effort was worth it.


Full view of the Lion, Lions head on the left, Lions Rump on the right.








Lions Head











The rock pile that you climb to get to the very top







The very top!




Since I can’t think of a better way to do this, what follows is a day-to-day running diary of my 8 days on the road in the company of two hearty souls, Menno the Extreme of Holland and Dave the Forgetful of Britain.
(after 2 hours of writing, this is actually Day 1 and some background on the players, to be followed up by the next 7 days.)

Day 1

Well, more like the lead up to Day 1, and then Day 1. I met Menno at the hostel. He is from Holland (isn’t that veeeird?), and after South Africa, his plan is to get a job on a boat to South America so that he doesn’t have to pay to fly there. Clearly this was a person who I could travel with. Menno had met Dave at a different hostel in the city, and had shared a bit of a difficult experience, as they were both unceremoniously thrown out of that hostel due to space limitations. The story remains suspect to this day, but whatever. Dave the Forgetful is a 21 year old brit who came to South Africa for a few months and has now been there for over a year, mostly surfing. The reason that he needed to travel with us was so that he could get to Mozambique to renew his visa to stay…and presumably surf some more.

After a day or two of running around getting our car sorted, a surf rack for the car, insurance and money we were ready to go.


(L to R) Dave and Menno, setting out. Which means that I was crammed into the backseat...bastards




Our first stop was Cape Agulhas, which is the southern-most point of Africa. Some people are mis-led to believe that Cape of Good Hope, or even Cape Point are the southern-most points, and these people are idiots.

Really.

One look at a map tells you otherwise, and maps are plentiful. So we left early on Tuesday morning and made it to the cape early as well. Except that we actually didn’t, because the car we had reserved was given away, and we had to scramble and then I wanted lunch so we actually left at about 2pm. But we left!The drive to the Cape was handled by Menno who proved himself to be the most consistent driver of the three of us (followed by me, followed by anyone else in the history of driving, including little old women from Asian countries, followed, at a great distance, by Dave).

(introspective diversion)


Cape Agulhas, the bottom of the world





There is something incredibly powerful about being in a place and knowing that everything in the world, quite literally, is behind you. Watching the sun drop over the ocean, my back was to all of Africa. The wars, poverty, AIDS, dictators, corrupt governments, genocide, draught, famine, all of that was behind me. Also behind me was the cradle of human existence, tens of thousands of years of culture, art, music, language and dance. Being in front, or behind or below all that humanity has struggled for and with and achieved and lost and conquered and lost again was an overwhelming feeling and it took me quite a while to budge myself from my perch amongst the stones. When I did finally turn around, the small hill and lighthouse that I faced seemed to be an entirely inappropriate prologue to all that came after it, like trying to grasp the entirety of religion by being given the first word each of the Torah, Koran and Bible. I felt as if I was at the apex of some enormous pendulum, having now swung out as wide as it can go, it was time to begin the slow swing back towards the opposite extreme, whatever that may be. Still, for those few moments, poised motionless and hanging in silence and expectation for the downward arc to begin, I felt completely untouchable.

And then we took silly pictures…












We've known each other less than a day here. Death-defying driving brings people together



We pressed on, and I got my first taste of driving on the “wrong” side of the road.

Turns out I’m not too bad. Even though the three of us plus our packs weighed roughly as much as the car, which had no power steering, African air conditioning (roll down the widow; drive), no radio, weak headlights and tires thin enough to drive on rope, and I had to use the clutch and stick shift backwards, I managed to log a few hours on deserted back roads the very first day.

Our noble steed: 1.3L VW Gulf Chico. Every bit as manly as the name implies






Driving on the wrong side of the car...I'm skeptical about this...





Dave, as it turns out, had driven the route that we planned to take twice before, and he proved to be an excellent guide, knowing the best places to stay, best places to party and best places to surf. I believe that by the end he was something like 12 for 12 on suggestions, which he really needed to make up for the fact that he left something in every single place that we stayed, which necessitated a number of return trips after leaving a place, as well as nearly killing all of us any number of times in the car.

As such, our first stop was in a place called Mossel Bay. We stayed here:

(picture soon)

Yes, it is a train car. Apart from the novelty of it being a train car, there was absolutely nothing worth mentioning about this place. Still, it was kind of cool. Except when I woke up the following morning confused about where I was, and, since I’m a top bunk kind of guy, soundly smacked my head on the roof-rack.

Next: Days 2-8, Dave loses things, Menno jumps off a very tall bridge, and I learn all about surfing...without actually doing any.