Category Archives: Cape to Cape

Never trust a fart

Germiston, Gauteng, South Africa

2 October 2013

Speeding along at a fair whack through the night. Trying to make up time. Bounce. Bump. Grind. And that’s just the train.

Arrive at Witbank. 150km drive to Johonnesburg. Very small Chinese Canadian has put her bag on “my” usual seat to reserve it for herself. The other women are annoyed. They’re on my side. No one likes the Chinese Canadians. The’ve proved themselves to be the most annoying couple imaginable. Social outcasts on the train. The other women start on at her about moving seats. She obliges. Will be glad when this trip finishes tomorrow.

2hr drive into central Johannesburg. This is now black Johannesburg.

Jo’burg

Like parts of 1930s Manhattan with its ageing commercial buildings and grid like blocks. Told that 90% are vacant. Can believe it as it all looks a bit derelict. Not sure it would be the best thing to jump out of bus and walk about. Would be the only white person judging by the state of things.

Interesting tour of Constitution Hill prison complex. In operation upto 1983. Squalid conditions. Apart from prisoners who have committed proper crimes like murder and the like it also housed blacks for nothing more than being black and not carrying a passbook. Black guide talks about the persecution of the blacks and their similarities between the Jews in Nazi Germany. Inmates made to eat in the outside mess hall whilst watching fellow inmates defecate in the long drop toilets located at one end of the mess hall. Later told by a white guide that there are two sides to every story.

On to SOWETO.

Constitution Hill prison

The South West Township. Parts are quite new and relatively upmarket. Small bungalows with gardens in nice residential areas. Parts are utter squalor. Basic wooden shacks. Another interesting visit to the Hector Pieterson Museum. He being a 13 year old shot dead in June 1976 by the police when he and fellow school students walked in protest at being taught in Afrikaans rather than English. Afrikaans being seen as the language of white supremacists. Fascinating history. Especially as not taught South African history at school and also the fact that it was happening in my lifetime.

Overhear two elderly Canadian gents standing at the urinals. One says to the other, “You can never trust a fart”. “Oh yeah…..” agrees his friend.

Two cooling towers towering over Soweto. Both painted in fantastic art. It’s some feat to have painted them.

Mess hall and toilet block

Think various cooling towers along the Trent in Nottinghamshire could do with the same treatment. Would brighten the place up a bit.

Tour a Soweto shanty town. The sort of shanty town where you have to tread on dead rats. I kid you not. Rubbish strewn everywhere. Enter shanty town by crossing two rail tracks. Commuter train whizzes by before we can cross. Not wanting to be mown down cross quicly. The elderly aren’t so quick. Visions of a train splatting a few Canadians. Pass dirty nappies discarded on scrubland along with all the other debris of human living slung about. They don’t need to live like this. They don’t help themselves. It’s my biggest gripe.

Old black woman stands in the doorway of her brick home. Take photo and show her the image of herself. She exclaims in an excited manner, “Oh…..look how beautiful I am”.

Shiny floor

She’s not. “My beautiful face.”, she admires herself in the image. She’s about 70. Charm her and tell her she’s beautiful. She cracks up laughing and cackling. Thank you. She says. And I remind myself of the power of taking someone’s photo and showing them the image.

Alleyways of the shanty town have a waterway running down the middle. Full of debris and detritus of human living. Pop into one shack. Consists of a main central room used as kitchen/dining. Two small rooms left and right as bedrooms. It’s much bigger than some township shacks I’ve been to previously in Cape Town. Two small children sit in small plastic chairs watching TV. Two young women lie on a bed staring at the visitors in the halflight. Its a startling image but there’s a limit to what you can take a photo of and two young women lying on a bed together is likely to get me arrested.

Constructed of a wooden frame clad in corrugated iron sheets. Plenty of holes in the roof and the sides allowing daylight to seep through and improve the ambient light. Electric wires dangle loose to serve a solitary light.

Don’t feel threatened in the township and people seem friendly enough. Not sure if that’s normal or whether it’s because a “community leader” is escorting us.

Excellent song and dance show by local children in the dining hall of the school.

Jo’burg

Highlight is a group of lads dancing with wellies. Simply stunning. Hit the side of the wellies in unison such that it sounds like a single crack. Timing is perfect and it goes on for a good 10 minutes non stop. Awesome display.

So much rubbish lying about. See locals just dropping litter anywhere. They don’t help themselves.

Train moves to Germiston during the day. The black sububs of Johannesburg. It’s a grotty area and could easily be the back streets of Hyson Green in Nottingham. In fact, had you blindfolded and plonked me in Germiston I would’ve said we were in Hyson Green. It’s that nice.

Walk through Germiston station underpass to reach platform 6. Smells as though someone has died here. There’s an awful stink.

Last night on the Shongololo Express.

Hector Pieterson memorial

Want photo of an empty dining car all lit up. Without anyone else in the photo. Ask train manager to give me a nod when it’s all set so I can just take a photo of an empty dining car. As soon as I stand to enter the dining car all the others stand and surge forward. Thinking dinner is ready. Annoying Chinese Canadian couple have to be the first in to the dining car very night. Come hell or high water. They’re like that. Mr Chinese surges forward with his two mugs of hot water. Everyone is told to sit down and keep calm. Dinner won’t be ready for another 15 minutes. Explain to the vultures that all I want, what I really, really want is just one photo. Of an empty dining car. It’s a simple request. One you would think people would understand and respect. You would think.

Chinese couple are agitated. And I mean really agitated. They won’t be the first in the dining car.

Hector Pieterson

And I queue jumped. Shock. Horror. I’m going in first even though they were first in the queue. As I step forward to give me more space. They step forward. With their mugs of hot water. As it’s the last night can afford to fall out with people now. No. More. Mr. Nice. Guy. My time has come.

Shout at the Chinese. Can do shouting when I want. Can’t I little sister?!

Mr Chinese is told to sit down. Mrs Chinese is told to sit down. And wait. You impatient little…….

All I want is one photo of the dining car. EMPTY. Not with you two little whatsits with your mugs of hot water in the shot. Don’t. You. F*****. Understand?!?! Shouting now.

Apparently not. Unbelievable.

Also have one of the Swiss women in the mix now. She’s somehow sprung forward a few places overtaking a few Canadians. They’re not happy. From the bar car we’ve gradually inched forward to the dining car corridor. Waitress tells them all to go back. Dinner is not ready. Start using my width to try and usher them back. Mr Chinese who doesn’t speak much suddenly starts chattering in Chinese. Mrs Chinese starts speaking in English. Why should I be at the front of the queue?!

Cycling recycling

Blah. Blah. Blah. They’re a bit thick. Again reiterate. All. I. Want. Is. One. Photo. They just don’t get it. My temper is lost. Could crush a grape right now. Mrs Chinese starts having a pop again. Mr Chinese starts jabbering again. With their mugs of hot water in hand. Lose it. Shout louder. So there we are. Two Chinese about 5ft tall. One Taurean at 6’5″ towering over them. The others are loving it. The constantly complaining Chinese Canadians are being put in their place. At last.

And then. The lights are switched on. At last. Can now take a photo of dining car. Walk in to take photo of an empty dining car. They all follow like lemmings. FFS. Waitress starts shouting at them to go back they’re not ready. It takes some cajoling for them all to reverse down the corridor. Shout some more at the Chinese as I finish taking photos. Along the lines of, “That’s all I wanted!”. Leave the car to go to the back of the queue but no one’s having it. They want me to go to the front. Just to wind up the Chinese Canadians. Swiss woman congratulates me on putting the Chinese in their place. Will not miss this scrum for dinner one bit.

Final farewells.

At last.

What a difference a day makes!

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Swaziland, Swaziland

1 October 2013

Crossed the border from Mozambique into Swaziland during yesterday evening. Only know we’re in Swaziland due to a change in mobile phone network provider. Arrive at Mpaka station in central Swaziland. Carriage next to a bright sodium light which floods cabin with an eery orange glow. Reminds me of that scene out of “One Foot in the Grave” where Victor Meldrew’s bedroom is bathed in orange light….only to find a street light has crashed through his window.

Showing signs of the early onset of Alzheimer’s. Did I take my Malarone anti-malarial tablet this morning? Popped one out of the packet. Remembder doing that. Can’t remember taking it though. What day is it?? Where am I??

Station is a secure compound which can’t be exited until you’ve gone through border formalities.

Enroute

Which is a bit of a nonsense. Swaziland immigration don’t even look at passport ID page. Simply stamp a page.

It’s the usual scrum for a desired mini-bus seat. It’s a case of: you snooze….you lose. Due to my height all my fellow travellers are very generous in allowing me the one seat that has shed loads of leg room. Taurean charm you see. But. Just to make sure. Australian friend has put a coat on “my” seat to “reserve” it for me along with bags on her seat. She’s now wandered off and the bus door is closed. Arrive at bus to find Canadians congregating by the door. First come. First served. They think they’re first in the queue. Open the bus sliding door. An audible gasp from the Canadians. It’s like a scene from the Goldilocks. Whose been sitting in my seat. They’re surprised at being usurped to a preferred seat. They thought they were first here. Clearly not. You snooze. You lose.

All a bit so, so

One old lady with a gammy knee was rather hoping to be on “my” seat. She graciously relents when realising we’re both on the same bus. This doesn’t stop her fellow Canadians putting pressure on me, “You’ll move won’t you…..she’s got bad knees”. Quite. She’s already got bad knees. I haven’t. Yet. And don’t want. She tells them it’s OK. She’ll suffer on another seat. Not a jot of guilt have I. Suggest she would be best seated in the front passenger seat adjacent driver. Oh no. Good heavens. Can’t sit there. Oh no. She can’t see the driver driving. She can’t see the road. What a tiz. Good God. And anyway. She has to sit with her friend. Barking. Mad.

The Canadians are now in a tiz about where to sit. My favourite Australian has discreetly jumped in the front seat behind their backs. Whilst they fret.

Deary me.

Bright bags

It’s the crime of the century. Elderly Canadian tour leader starts having a pop,”Oh…that’s not fair….you always sit in the front [for the record it’s only her second time]…..it’s not fair…..you always get the best seat…..why don’t you move….you always sit in the front seat….”……and so it goes on. Canadians versus Australians.

I work in the construction industry. When dealing with the workforce (grown men at that) a common phrase used is “it’s like dealing with kids with beards”. Well today is no exception. It really is like dealing with kids with beards – but old lady beards……

There’s a bit of friction on the bus today. And it’s only 0830hrs. We’ve not even left the station car park. All we need now is Russ Abbott to start singing, “Oh, what an atmosphere.”.

Only a 5 minute drive in silence until the first stop.

Witch doctor medicine chest

Swazi Secrets. Factory producing beauty products abstracted from the Marula tree. Meant to rejuvanate skin and make you look younger. The secret of eternal youth. All the women queue to buy masses of various products. Not sure why. Tell them it really works as I’ve been using it the past 90 years. Some have to think about that.

Chat with one of the younger Canadians. She’s cringing. They’ve had trouble on their bus as well this morning. We’re only a few minutes into the day.

Local market in Manzini has the usual merchandise but also stalls for witch doctors. Various roots and dodgy parts of animals are the key medicines.

Swaziland simply stunning scenery. We are all loving Swaziland. Makes up for the disappointment of Mozambique. Almost Alpine in places with lush green meadows, mountain ranges and pine plantations.

For sale

Stop at an outdoor theatre – House on Fire. Wow. Amazing place. Quite Gaudi-esque in decor. Being a theatre lighting designer in my spare time – would love to see a production here. The parcans used for theatre lighting look like they’ve been made out of bean tins rather than commercially bought parcans. Its claim to fame is that former President of the USA, Jimmy Carter, had a widdle in their urinal. A plaque commemeorates the spot. I just have to.

An excellent day travelling through the countryside stopping at various tourist traps like candle factory and glass blowing factory. It’s all a bit upmarket here. Clean. Neat. Tidy. Not like Mozambique. Read that the King of Swaziland has just announced his 15th wife. Good lad.

Friction between the colonies continues. An Australian overhears Canadian say, “There are far too many Australians and New Zealanders on this trip!”

Swaziland scenery

Harumph. It’s a good job the Canadian hasn’t heard what her fellow Canadians, Australians & Kiwis are saying. Being an independent lone Brit hear both sides. Could write a book…….

Wonderful drive through constant stunning scenery. Want to stay longer in Swaziland. Make mental note to return. And then. Elderly Canadian tour leader pipes up. A complaint. She’s sitting on the right side of the bus. There’s no scenery on the right side of the bus. It’s all on my side of the bus. As we drive along a mountainside. Can the guide do anything about it? Now. If it had been me. An elderly Canadian would find herself tumbling down said mountainside.

That’s when everyone starts ripping the whatsit out of her. Everything we now see on the left is exaggerated like there’s no tomorrow. Over there on the LEFT. Look at that on the LEFT.

Another Canadian sees water being sprayed onto felled tree trunks stacked in piles at a sawmill.

Candlestick maker

It’s patently obvious that it’s to stop a fire starting. She asks why they’re washing it.

Cross border into South Africa at Jeppe’s Reefe. Passport stamped by both Swaziland and South African immigration without even looking at passport. Could easily walk into South Africa bypassing border controls. All a bit lax. Ask Canadian woman if she’s stamped into South Africa yet? No. Not yet. She’s only been stampd into Jeppe’s Reef. ??!?!? Walk off shaking my head in despair.

Discover the train has been delayed at the border in Komatipoort and won’t be at Kaapmuiden by the allotted time. We’re to meet it at Malalene instead at 1800hrs. Hold at Malalene shopping mall awaiting further instructions. Everyone tired and tetchy. It’s now 1715hrs. Shops shutting. Hear it’s been difficult on another bus today with the Canadians. Train eventually arrives about 1845hrs.

House on Fire

First sitting starts at 1815hrs. Usual scrum for first sitting much worse as all know second sitting will be much, much later now due to delays.

A bus arrives. It’s full of the people that didn’t understand the EITHER/OR options from a few days ago. They left Swaziland this morning. To drive 3hrs to Kruger National Park. To do a game drive. Word on the street is that it’s not been a good day for them. They haven’t seen much wildlife. A tad disgruntled. There’s a lot of sniggering amongst us that have had a wonderful day in Swaziland.

Literally bump and bounce along the rails. To the extent bottoms leave seats. Engine driver needs to make up time. Think doing the cakewalk. And trying to sleep.

We were doing a duet!

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Maputo, Mozambique

30 September 2013

Meet neighbour in the corridor. She being a little old lady. Boy. Can she snore. I mean. Seriously snore. Cabin walls are paper thin. You can hear everything. And I mean everything. Toilet paper being ripped from its roll. Oh yes. That thin. Cheekily joke with her about keeping me awake last night with her loud snoring. She quickly retorts, “We were doing a duet!”.

Touche.

Short city tour of Maputo before departing for Swaziland early afternoon. The storm front from yesterday has passed. Normal service is resumed. Blue sky. Sun. Drive along the Marginal – the coast road. Exactly like Salvador, Brasil. The whole beach is grotty and littered with human detritus.

Not quite the Orient Express

Fisherman pick fish out of their nets. The only sign of activity.

Market stall holder hermetically seals bags of nuts by melting the plastic bag over a candle to seal the ends.

See the Angolan basketball team in one of the hotels. Souvenir sellers are being kept back from their hotel by a security guard brandishing a big stick. Looks like he’ll have no hesitation whatsoever in using it if they take a step closer.

Pass Gustav Eiffel’s Iron House. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Until they realised that a house made of iron was probably not best built in a hot country.

It says something about a city when the highlight of the tour is a visit to a 5* hotel. Canadian tour leader tries on jewellery in hotel shop. On seeing me, she delights in telling me, “For our engagement, darling.”. Oh. Crap.

Another old lady tells me the other old ladies love me. Have a fan club. I’ve lent some cash to Miss Daisy as she’s running low. She has pleasure in announcing to everyone, “He’s my banker”.

At least that’s what I think she said.

: Maputo station

: What you cooking?

: A few shells

: Ambling along

: Fort

: No photos!

: A few shells

: Hermetically sealed

: A new leaf?

: Remnants of civil war

: City hall

: Let there be light

: Nice twist

: Watch your step

: Stairway to heaven

: President Machel

: President Machel

: Gustav Eiffel’s Iron House

: A little luxury

: Marginal

: Along the Marginal

: Bobbing

: There’s a fish here somewhere

: Local shops

: Nice colour

: A juicy little number

: Maputo station

: Maputo station

: Maputo station

: On the rails

: On the rails

: On the rails

The Hooker’s Bar

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Maputo, Mozambique

29 September 2013

Off to a beach resort for a chill out day on the beach sunbathing by the Indian Ocean. Everyone geared up last night for another hot day. The train forecast is 27C and sunny. My phone told me otherwise when I checked last night.

Woken to the sound of rain.

It’s peeing it down.

It’s cold.

Dress accordingly. Fleece hoodie. Gore-tex waterproof coat. Walking boots. Thick socks. Oh yes. I know how to dress for the beach.

Others don’t. Convinced it’s going to clear and be nice.

Not exactly ferry across the Mersey

And warm. And sunny. Shorts. Flimsy blouses. Most obtain beach towels being handed out by the train.

For the sunbathing.

By the Indian Ocean.

Keep telling them the forecast is cold and wet. No one believes me. They think I’m joking.

Ho. Ho. Ho.

Someone says it’s 3hrs on the bus to the resort. It’s only 70km. How can it be 3hrs?

Ho. Ho. Ho.

When someone tells you you’re going to a beach resort by the Indian Ocean. What image does that conjure up? Think about it a while. Personally. Have images of snazzy upmarket resort along the lines of Comandatuba near Salvador, Brasil. Google it. (They thought we were hotel inspectors the last time we went – but that’s another story for another blog).

Crash landing

Plans for today are to find a quiet corner. Catch up on diary. Write blog. With the free Wifi access. Oh yes. Looking forward to today.

70km. Should only take an hour. It does. But. Takes nearly 2hrs for 6 buses to make the 10min crossing on the ferry.

Sorry. Did I say. Ferry??

Ho. Ho. Ho.

Floating debris more like.

One word.

Ramshackle.

So there we all are. Standing on the dirt track road that purports to be a quayside.

Oh yes. Did I mention. How flipping freezing it is? How flipping wet it is? How flipping windy it is? Unbelievably cold. Even with wearing wet weather gear.

Lifejackets anyone…..anyone….??

There’ll not be much sunbathing today. At least we can enjoy the delights of a beach resort.

The “ferry” is basically a floating pontoon with engine below deck. A manhole in the deck allows the exhaust to vent. All over the passengers. If you don’t die of hypothermia. Carbon monoxide will do the trick. Pilot’s cabin in a little turret on deck. One window is. Well. Windowless. Umbrella used to protect him from the wind and rain. Did I mention the wind and rain. And cold??

“Ferry” can only take two cars parked sideways and two buses straight on at a time. We have six buses to convey.

It. Takes. Time. To load.

It. Takes. Time. To cross.

It. Takes. Time. To unload.

It. Takes. Time. To load the other side.

Beautiful day

You know where this is going.

Nearly 2hrs later all buses have crossed. All a bit precarious. Certain amount of listing.

Now for the first leg of the Paris-Dakar Rally. Not dirt track roads to reach the 5* beach resort. Oh no. Sand tracks. Much worse. Drive in convoy in case anyone goes down. No one does.

Pull up outside a thatched shack. This’ll be the reception building. Won’t it. The beach resort will be on the beach. Won’t it.

But no. This open sided thatched shack about 20m x 20m is the resort. Actually. It’s not a resort. It’s a bar. Called “Hooker’s Bar”. Concrete floor. Plastic garden furniture. Open sides.

Oh yes. Did I mention open sides? Did I mention the cold? Did I mention the wind? Did I mention the rain?

This is it.

Tight fit

For the next 3hrs. They’re all sitting down shivering wrapped in whatever clothing they can muster. It’s like a Darby & Joan Club. Ask if anyone wants to play bingo. Which raises a chuckle. They’ve found a use for beach towels. Shawls.

Sod that. Not sitting in the cold for 3hrs. Borrow the bus key. Escape. Sole occupancy. Great. Peace. Quiet. And. More importantly. Warm. Catch up on diary. In the warmth. Return to the Darby & Joan Club for lunch. Huge fresh prawns. Piri-piri chicken. Chips. That’s better. There’s a few frozen souls. Two are wrapped cocoon like in fluorescent sleeping bags provided by owner.

Finally. Time to depart. Car park is a sand pit. Exit is a right hander through the gate then up to the crest of a dune.

First bus to depart bogs down in the sand. Jump out to help push again.

That’s got to hurt

Along with others. No good. Well and truly bogged down. 4×4 jeep and rope required. Pulls free. Drives off again. Bogs down again. 4×4 again. Pulls free. Drives off again. Finally free. After some time. Another driver shows them how to do it. Bus full of old ladies. Driver guns it around the bend at speed. Momentum taking him out of the danger zone. Hilarious watching little old ladies bouncing up and down on the seats as he floors it over the ridges. Just after lunch.

Meanwhile. Whilst all this is happening, The German driver of the Swiss bus has got stuck. In the car park. After driving all of…….3ft. The other drivers crack up laughing at his predicament. It amuses all for some reason.. Even laughing now as I type this.

All make it to the ferry port without further incident. Rigmarole of crossing is repeated.

Driving through Maputo reminds me of Salvador in the tropics of Brasil. Squalid. Dirty. Grotty. Disgusting. Plenty of shacks lining the road. People standing around waiting for transportation. Men peeing in scrubland by the roadside.

Not exactly been the best day of the trip.

Do you work out?

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Komatipoort, Mpumalanga, South Africa

28 September 2013

On the same bus as octogenarian Canadian tour leader. We’d been on the same bus all day yesterday in Kruger. I’d been a charming young man. Can do charming when I want. She’d greeted me with the news we’re on the same bus again today with, “Ah…..my boyfriend.”. Oh. Crap.

Greeted at Sudwala caves by the Flintstones. Or at least their African non copywright infringing counterparts. Flintstone cousins. But the resemblance is uncanny.

Canadians congregate in the cave. Troglodyte like. Waiting for cave guide to start. There’s a kerfuffle. It’s dark. Inside a cave. Canadians request one torch per couple. Yep.

Dark in here isn’t it….??

You read that right. A torch. It’s dark. They’ve just stepped in from blinding sunshine. And can’t see. Everyone who isn’t Canadian starts grumbling about what a stupid request it is. It’s not dark at all. Eyes just need to adjust. Cave is beautifully lit. Atmospheric.

Cave guide is sent to find torches. About 30 required if it’s one per couple. He returns. There’s only one spare. It’s given to the elderly Canadian tour leader. Who promptly switches it on. And like a child with a new toy marvels at its powers and swings the beam around everyone. Smiling in wonderment at her new present. Killing our night vision. Everyone who isn’t Canadian shouts at her to turn it off. Explain to her to switch it off as it will kill her NIGHT vision if she has a torch on. She repeats this to her friends, “He says to switch it off or it’ll kill my LIGHT vision.”. Can’t even be bothered to correct her. Everyone is seriously wound up with this lot today.

Caves not the best I’ve been in and nowhere near as good as Jeita caves in Lebanon. Have a high benchmark for caves now. Steepish climb up slippery floor to see various rock formations. And a colony of bats. Elderly Canadian lady grabs onto me to stop herself slipping on the way down the slope. And asks, “Do you work out?”. No. “You’ve got some very big muscles.” I’ve pulled!

No comments please!

Lunch in the local mall. Can either stay the duration or visit the Botanical Gardens. Well. Dear reader. Just so you know. The sacrifices I make on your behalf. Miss out on the Botanical Gardens just so I can catch up on blog. It’s a glorious three hours being on my own without having to listen to constant Canadian chatter. Solitude. Quite refreshing.

Meet up with the others mid afternoon. It’s very clear to all but the clinically insane what the options were today. It’s EITHER Kruger OR Nelspruit OR Private Game Reserve. NOT AND. AND. AND. French Canadian is whining. He’s the grown up version of the Boy Scout in Disney’s cartoon film “Up”. Always sporting a rucksack. He’s not happy. Having spent an afternoon and morning at a Game Reserve he thinks he was going to do a full day tour of Kruger. Fed up of this stupidity tell him it’s quite clear that it’s an EITHER/OR excursion. Not BOTH. He huffs and puffs.

Nearly 2hrs drive to Komatipoort. On the South African/Mozambique border. Definitely a bit grotty here. Station is secured with barbed wire fencing and security gates. Assume because it’s the border.

Usual scrum for first sitting. One young lady is returning fom the dining car with a cup of tea to go to her cabin. At the same time the nod is given that dinner is ready. Suddenly she finds herself going against the flow of vultures. Who couldn’t give a toss that she’s going in the opposite direction with a hot mug of tea and rush past her. Had enough of this routine. Shout and stop the flow to allow her free passage through the scrum. No more Mr Nice Guy.

South African border formailities late evening. Two young girls in uniform enter dining car during dinner. They take photos of each other in the carriage. Which immediately arouses suspicions amongst the old and infirm that they’re doing sinister secret surveillance. They’re not. They’re just two young black girls taking photos to show their mates what the Shongololo Express is like.

Weather forecast according to my phone suggests it’ll be cold and wet tomorrow in Maputo. No one believes me. They all think I’m winding them up. Me? It’s a chill out day on the beach sunbathing by the Indian Ocean tomorrow.

Ho. Ho. Ho.

Someone may need the bathroom

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Kaapmuiden, Mpumalanga, South Africa

27 September 2013

0430hrs. Alarm call. Not a great start to the day. Have to sit next to obnoxious Swiss woman. The one that smoked. Not a great start to the day.

Another game drive. In Kruger National Park. After the disappointment of Selous, Chaminuka and Hwange not looking forward to this. It’ll be another day of driving around aimlessly hoping for the best. Can pay an extra USD95 to sit in a cramped open top safari jeep. Or for free in the air-conditioned mini-bus. AC and space sounds good to me.

Like the other game parks you can’t drive off road. Unlike the other parks you can drive your own car in. Think Woburn Safari Park.

Didn’t even use a zebra crossing

On a bigger scale. Kruger has a mix of metalled roads and dirt tracks. Lady Luck is shining down. See four of the Big Five in the first couple of hours. High hit rate today. It’s looking good. Find a pride of lions. It’s like a car park. Apart from the safari jeeps there are standard cars full of families on a day out. All patiently waiting their turn. Until the safari jeep full of Swiss barges in and blocks everyone out for 10-15mins. Including our bus. Canadians not liking this one bit.

Cross a bridge over the river. It’s like a car park. Dead hippo wedged between two rocks. Blood seeping from its mass. Crocodiles holding close to. Waiting for a feed.

Having entered by Malalane Gate it’s a circuit to Crocodile Ridge then Skikuza for lunch before returning.

Canadian asks anyone in the bus if they have a plastic bag.

Kruger

Stupidly. And I know I should know better. Ask what for. “Someone may need the bathroom.”. It’s Miss Daisy. Oh great. If it’s not someone throwing up on me in a helicopter it’ll be in a mini-bus. Don’t do sick. Not wanting to be gobbled up by lions we can’t stop in the bush. Obviously. Speed limits are broken. To reach the nearest toilets. It’s a tense 15mins. Miss Daisy returns and delights in telling us, “Oooh….that’s better.” patting her tummy. Too much information.

Surprised by the quality of animals that can be seen from the road. Elephant. Giraffe. Zebra. Lion. Wildebeest. White rhino. Buffalo. Crocodile. Hippo. And a spotted hyeena trotting up the middle of the road. Highlight though is a hippo that crosses the road in front of us.

Canadians dropping like flies in the heat. 40C to be precise. Having paid large sums to sit in a jeep they’re finding it too hot.

Kruger

A couple jump in our bus. For the AC. Continue through the park. All morning we’ve been using “Elephants at 10 o’clock……..croc at 2 o’clock…….giraffe at 4 o’clock……” and continue like that after lunch. You’d have to be pretty thick to not understand what is meant. Canadian woman who has just joined our bus to get out of the heat is highly irritated by this and grumpily remarks, “I don’t understand 3 o’clock. Why can’t you just say left or right!?!?”. Harumph.

There’s a lot of stupidity we have to put up with.

Talking of which.

One of the guides has told some Canadian women that female zebras are white with black stripes. And male zebras are black with white stripes. They believe him.

Clearly too hot even for animals and see nothing after lunch. At least this morning was productive.

White rhino

Meet up with the 4 younger (note how I write younger rather than young) Canadian ladies (are you reading this ladies?) as we exit the park. They’ve had to tolerate a lot of moaning by their fellow citizens today. Little Miss Chatterbox hasn’t stopped talking all day.

Return to train but make a quick stop for fuel, snacks and cash etc. One of the old women is on the verge of bursting into tears. Miss Daisy asks if I can help her. She’s put her credit card in the ATM. But it’s been gobbled up. Highly stressed. Push a few buttons to see if it’s returned. It’s not. Instruct Miss Daisy to fetch the manager whilst I stand guard by the ATM with old woman. Manager arrives and explain card has been gobbled up. Not a problem. He can access the reader from backshop. It’s withdrawn from the slot and so I can now see him through the slot. Fiddling with the reader. He can’t find a card. Shine a torch into the slot to see if it’s dropped somewhere.

Kruger

So there we are. For about 10mins. Trying to find this card for her. Until. After 10mins I hasten to add. Woman pipes up, “I did give my card to a black man who offered to help me.”.

WHAT?!?!?

In the words of Rene from ‘Allo ‘Allo. You stupid woman. Immediately apparent what’s happened. He’s palmed it whilst pretending to insert it in the slot and watched her enter her PIN.

Silly.

Stupid.

Woman.

She’s in floods of tears now she’s realised how stupid she’s been. Today’s winner of the Darwin Award for Evolution. Who on earth would give a stranger a credit card at an ATM?!? On the train an hour later she’s on the phone to her bank. He’s already withdrawn ZAR1,700 (~GBP110).

Thought you were 26

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Kaapmuiden, Mpumalanga, South Africa

26 September 2013

Long day ahead. 11hrs long to be precise. Along the Panorama Route. Drive 10km and queue for 15mins at roadworks. Will realise later on the way back that we got off lightly. Drive through pine forest plantations and citrus farms. Scenery like Derbyshire in some respects. 2.5hrs to Pilgrim’s Nest. Gold discovered here in 1873 and preserved as a heritage town with old fashioned shops, hotels and bars. Quite quaint. Annual gold panning competition starts tomorrow. Place reminds of Crich Tramway Museum. Or Beamish. Pre-fab buildings constructed of corrugated iron clad wooden frames imported from England.

Lunch stop at Graskop for their famous pancakes.

Pilgrim’s Rest

Joined by two Kiwis. Asked if I have a sibling. Little sister. How old is she. 40. Kiwi looks astounded. “What?!” she says disbelievingly. “How old are you?”. 43. “Wow!” says she, “I thought you were 26”. Oh yes. Still got it. Boyish good looks you see. Ahem. Others on the trip think I’m between 24 & 28. No comments about blind women. Please.

Silk factory very interesting. They grow the silk worms and harvest the cocoons. They’re then softened in water. Stretched over a frame. Then spun. For weaving.

Head out to the Blyde River Canyon to visit the Three Rondavels – three large rock outcrops created by erosion and shaped like the local mud huts. Standing on the plataeu looking down into the canyon. Impressive sight and vistas. Equally impressive is the Bourkes Luck Potholes. Confluence of Treur and Blyde rivers have created cylindrical voids in the canyon sides.

Pilgrim’s Rest

Fellow traveller afraid of heights so stands in the middle of the bridge taking photos with arms outstretched. Camera in hand. Hoping for the best.

In need of a bottle of water. Told there’s a shop behind the adjacent building. There’s not. Ask stallholder where I can buy water. She shouts. Very loudly. To a woman across the park. She shouts. Very loudly. Across an empty field. Can’t see anyone. She shouts again. Very loudly. And again. And then. A girl appears. From nowhere. She shouts to middle woman. They converse. By shouting. Across the field. Middle woman turns to me. And shouts. Very loudly. How many. She asks. I shout. Very loudly. One. She shouts. Very loudly. Across the field. Girl runs over. With bottle of water. Hoarse just listening to all this shouting.

Wow. Is the chorus from us all. As we stand at God’s Window. On top of the escarpment looking down onto the plain below. Realise how high up we are. Simply stunning scenery. More Venezuela than Africa.

2hr drive back at high speed. Until we hit the roadworks. Takes a further hour sitting in a long queue for the roadworks. Finally pass through. 7km tailback the other side. Someone counts 285 vehicles.

All the buses are late returning. The usual scrum and fight for first sitting will be vicious seeing as we’re now arriving 45mins after the start of first sitting. There’ll be blood on the walls. Fortunately, the train has organised a braai buffet on the platform to avoid people murdering each other for that all important first sitting.

You’re a legend

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Kaapmuiden, Mpumalanga, South Africa

25 September 2013

Day on the rails. Overnight border crossing from Zimbabwe to South Africa quicker than anticipated. Train can’t judge the Zimbabwean immigration. Some times it takes hours if they’re bored. Sometimes it takes minutes if they’re not. Coupled with the fact that South African rail network has routed the train along a shorter more scenic route we arrive in Louis Trichardt mid morning. Rather than this afternoon had the odds been stacked against them. Pick our way along a very scenic river gorge. Able to see the front and rear as the train snakes around the bends.

Lose the Sheltam engine drivers who have been with us since Dar Es Salam. They’ve been excellent.

Stationary in the station

Really smooth driving and take-offs. Soon realise how good they are. Sheltham drivers unable to continue driving in South Africa due to union rules. Now at the mercy of Transnet and the unions. If a driver doesn’t turn up it can take hours to wait for a replacement. And then he’ll only work upto his maximum shift hours. Welcome to South Africa. At least there’s now a 3G phone signal.

As stationary for a few hours given the option of popping into town for cash and odds & sods. Small shopping mall houses a unit selling “Guns & Ammo”. Canadian woman wants to donate spare clothes to a “a big Mama”…..for the simple reason she’s a “big Mama” as well. An unknowing local woman selling fruit by the roadside is the chosen one. Given a bag of clothes. You can imagine her surprise. Utter disbelief. Lots of thanks and smiles.

Sandwiches to be provided on the train for lunch at 1230hrs. Except. No one has told the chef. Action stations at 1230hrs when the penny drops.

Dinner whilst the train continues on its journey along the gorge. Engine’s headlights illuminating the way ahead around the twists and turns. Walk through the Swiss congregation and they all do my scary monster impression – shaking arms up in the air. One says, “You’re a legend”. Leg end more like.

Don’t want to be near those two!

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Rutenga, Masvingo, Zimbabwe

24 September 2013

Arrive Bannockburn station in the early hours. Very small station in the middle of nowhere judging by the hour’s drive along Zimbabwean strip roads to the main metalled road. Overhear one of the Canadians telling the train manager to put them on another mini-bus, “I don’t want to be near those two!” pointing to his fellow Canadian travelling companions. It’s My Little Warthog and wife. All is not well in the Canadian camp it seems.

Elderly Canadian woman asks if the village is named after the famous battle of Bannockburn. She turns to me and says “That’s a bit before your time.”. She prods her fan in my ribs when I cheekily ask, “Yes……but was it before your time?”

Bannockburn station

Cheeky young man.

Nearly 3hrs drive to Great Zimbabwe. First hour along strip roads. Not quite dirt track. Two strips of tarmac about a foot wide and a car width apart. In theory you drive on the tarmac strips. Except they’re in poor condition so often have to drive on the dirt track. Either way it’s not a smooth ride.

Great Zimbabwe Hotel consists of thatched buildings and reminds me of the Cott Inn at Dartington, Devon. Photos show HM Queen and D of E, Princess Di and Mandela as having been guests here. Instructed not to talk about politics as the hotel is a well known meeting place for Zanu PF party members. Which explains the large black BMW & Mercedes cars sitting in the car park.

Great Zimbabwe is an 11th century royal palace complex. Steep half hour climb to the top of Great Zimbabwe. Great views. One woman asks, “Do you feel spiritual up here?”. No. Feel hot, knackered and hungry. Is the reply. Steep climb down again. Great Enclosure is…..well….a great enclosure. Built of grey stones. Basically an 11m high dry stone wall.

Golden sunset enroute to Rutenga station passing impressive rock formations.

A pain in the backside

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Somabhula, Zimbabwe

23 September 2013

Another freezing night on the train. Day at Antelope Park activity lodge run by whites. A well organised affair. Greeted by tea and biscuits on the lawn served in those old cream and green enamel teapots your Great Aunt might have had in the 60s/70s. Could quite easily be an English summer fete – were it not for the elephants on the lawn.

Walking with lions. Safety briefing in English which is then translated for the six French. This winds the Canadians up no end. They’re not liking this translation malarky as it takes more time than it should. No one wants to be in the French bus. There’s a right old hoo-ha.

Told that if the lion handlers shout “Watch your back” it will either be a lion just passing through or it will be a lion stalking you.

Wrong way

Jolly good. If that’s the case you’re to turn and face the lion raising your stick and shout “No!” at the lion. This fazes Miss Daisy no end. Final question is “Have the lions been fed”. This fazes Miss Daisy again. Worried she’ll be gobbled up by mid-morning.

Assumed that these lions were smallish but when the jeep pulls up two large lions race towards us. Can see that they’re a bit big. Hmmm. Not sure about this. Hope they have been fed. Group of about a dozen walk through the bush with two lions roaming between us. Quite a spectacle but they keep racing off into the bush so the handlers have to coax them back to the group (the lions that is…..). Allowed to touch and stroke (the lions that is…..) whilst having obligatory photos. Hair is thick and wiry.

Follow up to walking with lions is feeding the lions. Wow. Never seen anything like it.

‘aving a breather

Stand behind an 8ft high chain link fence. The enclosure is empty. The holding enclosure beyond has about eight very large and mature lions running up and down the fence line waiting to enter the feeding enclosure. A metre away the other side of the fence is lion food. Abbattoir cast offs. Including one cow foetus still in the womb. Not a pretty sight before us. Door to feeding enclosure is opened and the lions race down the enclosure at breakneck speed about 50m to the line of food a metre away the other side of the fence. Dust and grit fly. Blood and guts fly. Four alpha males burst onto the food their front paws gathering up their share. Fighting breaks out for more territory. Noise of the deep roar is immense. A raw roar. Deep grunting. Can feel the power. More fighting for food. Lions lie on top of their share. Roar. Roar. Roar. All puffing and panting. Can’t eat yet as too hyper. Takes a good ten minutes before their bodies have calmed down sufficiently to enable them to start gnawing at bone and meat.

Purr

The foetus is ripped from its womb and a lion runs off with it to the shade of a tree. The foetus dangling from its mouth. Beta lions wait in the background knowing full well they’ll be attacked if they try for food. Alphas tucking into their lunch puts us off ours. Pretty gruesome.

Sedate elephant ride through the bush. Or so I thought. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Now know not to go elephant riding. Unbelievably uncomfortable. Three on each elephant. Elephant handler. Swiss woman. Me. Fortunately Swiss woman is deaf. She can’t hear my cries of pain and expletives. Cling on for dear life. Dismounting with cramp is absolute agony. Fellow female riders say the pain is comparable to childbirth. Well if that’s giving birth you can keep it. Flipping hurts. Physically damaged. Two elderly Canadian woman unable to dismount at the platform as elephant skittish. Have to dismount by being manhandled by the handlers grabbing their legs and sliding them down the side of the elephant. Camera at the ready for that “You’ve been framed” moment. Sadly, there isn’t £250 earned.

Receive email from English couple I’d met on the train from Dar Es Salam. They live and work in Nairobi. They had been in the Westgate Shopping Mall in Nairobi on Saturday when the terrorists started their killing spree.

Looking hopeful

Stuck for three hours in the mall until being rescued by security services and escaping in an ambulance. Thankfully they’re alive and well.

Train is at Somabhula station. Across the tracks is a school. We’re invited for a few songs, speeches (complete with overt hand and arm movements) and poems by the children along with a very funny sketch about sharing by three young lads. Two of the lads turn “upstage” away from their audience to continue their sketch but are quickly told by teacher in a stage whisper, “You’re facing the wrong way!”. Two lads share an apple and argue over who has the biggest half. One boy plays the wise old man – he hobbles over with stick and stooping – and takes a bite out of one lad’s half to try and equal the share but that makes the other lad’s half bigger so he takes a bite out of that…….then alternates between taking bites out of each half. Until his mouth is full of apple.

Don’t run off

And the two lads have no apple at all. The whole school and audience is laughing every time he takes a bite as he’s progressively unable to say his lines as mouth is full of apple. Very funny. Music teacher could be Floella Benjamin judging by her looks.

Two albino kids. One girl. One boy. Thought they were whites at first. Never seen an albino before. They’re like buses. You wait years to see an albino then two come along at the same time.

Do my usual running into a group of children pretending to be a monster. Arms flailing up in the their shrieking “Grrrr……rrrrr……rrrrrr”. Just like the school in Tanzania, the kids love it and run off laughing and screaming. So just have to do it some more. Fellow travellers love it. One shakes my hand and receive a round of applause from the French when I board their mini-bus. Miss Daisy tells me “You’re a wonderful person.”. Quite a few people I’ve not spoken to yet say how much they enjoyed the “monster” routine. The Swiss deaf couple even give me a sign language name – basically raise your arms in the air and shake them pulling a funny face.

That’s sign language for “Touring Taurean”.