Stellenbosch

​Yesterday’s program was the optional tour to the Stellenbosch wine region. 

On the way, we passed acres of townships — basic houses built primarily for black citizens after the apartheid regime collapsed and Mandela became president. Previously, blacks could not legally own property and rents were exploitative. In these areas, the homes and the lots on which they are built are owned by the residents. 

It sounds like a good plan, but the supply of such housing is far less than the demand. Thus, squatter camps have appeared around the townships, as well. These strain public services, lack sanitation, and suffer fires from illegal electrical hookups. 

Our tour leader had the bus stop in front of one of the township homes and told us that he had been born in that house. Furthermore, his mother still lives there. We could tell that he was wrestling with the decision, but he finally got out and rattled the lock on the gate to the yard.

It was still early, and Mom was still in her bathrobe, but she came to the door and welcomed our whole group into her modest home. We took no photos, but got an insight into how people live in these places. 

Stellenbosch is very much a tourist town. Many old Cape-Dutch buildings are well preserved. We visited the large Dutch Reformed Church, which has no altar, but an enormous pulpit. 

At the first winery we got the standard tour, then lunch. The “tasting” was full glasses of about 6 different wines, so we were feeling pretty happy when we left.

At the second winery there was no tour, but still multiple full glasses. The last red wine in the series was very good, but also the most expensive at over $100 a bottle. Nevertheless a couple of our fellow travelers felt compelled to buy a bottle and share it with the group — and then another. It became a party. When we got back to the hotel, we fell immediately to sleep. 

This morning, the weather was finally clear enough for the cable car on Table Mountain to operate. Our group was among the first couple of cars to go up. 

The views on the way up and on the way down were pretty good, but at the top we were in cloud with a cold, damp wind. I’m sure it would have been very pleasant in better weather. 

Because our homeward flight is not until this evening, we returned to the Waterfront area for lunch and afternoon diversion. We enjoyed the “burger & beer” special on a sunny outdoor deck overlooking the harbor. Then we found where the harbor seals hang out, safely away from the tourists. 

Good Hope

​Today’s excursion took us out of Cape Town proper and into the “greater cape,” as it were. 

The bus took us south along the west coastline of the Cape. It is rugged and rocky and beautiful. 

The Atlantic Ocean pounds the shore and the wind is relentless. Waves of rain squalls bring intermittent showers that can be seen approaching across the water. 

At Cape Point there is a funicular up the hill to the old lighthouse, but wasn’t working. Instead, a small shuttle bus took tourists up an incredibly narrow road to where it could just barely turn around. 

From there, we climbed 60 or 70 stone steps to the top.

The lighthouse was built in 1860 and operated for 59 years. But it was largely useless because it is shrouded in clouds more than half the days of the year — a point brought home in 1911 when a passenger steamer hit a reef just off shore. 

Down at shore level we reached the actual Cape Point. In school we learned that the Cape of Good Hope is the southern tip of Africa, but they lied. That point is Cape Agulhas, roughly 100 miles to the southeast. So the signs here are careful to say, “the most southwestern point of the African continent.” Truth in advertising?

Still, the Cape of Good Hope was historically the rough spot for ships to get around. So much so that the first explorers here named it “Cape of Storms” and the king of Portugal renamed it for better marketing. There are more than 700 shipwrecks recorded here over the centuries since Bartolomeu Dias arrived here in 1488. 

We continued up the east coast of the Cape and had a very filling lunch in the little tourist burg of Simon’s Town. Then we doubled back a few miles to Boulders Beach where a flock of endangered African Penguins are protected by the South African National Parks Service. 

The protection consists of wooden walkways that allow hundreds of ticketed tourists to walk down to the beach and get close to the birds without actually stepping on their sand. 

After waiting in a long ticket line, the rain and wind began just about the time we finally got to the penguins. 

Though they were very cute, we weren’t inclined to get soaked watching them. So we took a couple pictures and headed for someplace dry. 

Back in Cape Town, we visited an old church that has been transformed into “The District Six Museum.” Our tour leader struggled to explain the significance in a coherent manner. And the museum itself had several themes going, all revolving around the struggle against apartheid. 

But the gist is that some 60,000 black and “colored” people were displaced from their homes in this neighborhood in the 1950s, 60s, and 70s, often with little more than a suitcase. Their homes were destroyed and they were forbidden to even be in the area without a work pass. Only “whites” were allowed to stay. 

While District Six was far from the only place where this occurred — it was repeated across South Africa — it was the catalyst for the anti-apartheid movement. 

Cape Town

​Another travel day yesterday. We began with a presentation by a local historian on the life and travels of David Livingstone. 

Then we had time to finish last minute packing before getting on our bus to the airport where we had to bid farewell to our tour leader, “Star.” The flight to Cape Town for the post trip was smooth. 

The tour leader for our post trip, Thabiso, met us at the airport but did not make a very good first impression there or in the orientation briefing at the hotel. We’re trying to reserve judgement, because our OAT trip leaders have almost always been excellent. 

This morning we drove to the Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens, a huge green space featuring about 9000 species of plants and birds. A number of these are unique to the Cape area. It was a windy, misty walk. But we were fortunate in that the torrential downpour came just as we were finishing in the gift shop. 

Our driver took us on a tour of downtown Cape Town with our tour leader providing commentary and pointing out buildings of interest. 

A stop on the way was at Truth Coffee, which is often ranked among the top coffee shops in the world (the best in the world, according to our tour leader, but that’s arguable).

The shop has a “steam punk” theme that extends to the attire of the employees. It’s a neat place, but overpriced. Nevertheless, most lined up for coffee and pastries. And it became clear that guides and drivers get free coffee in return for bringing groups in. 

Most of the group took the option of being dropped off at the Waterfront. We stayed dry by walking among the trendy shops in the indoor market (a converted warehouse). When the rain stopped, we ventured out toward the Clock Tower with hundreds of other tourists.

As the rain held off, set out walking to the Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu museums that had been suggested by our tour leader. He neglected to mention that these are both closed on Sundays. The rain did not hold off entirely, so we had to seek shelter in shops a couple times. It became a 3 mile walk back to the hotel. But we saw lots of Cape Town, including some neighborhoods we wouldn’t want to visit after dark. 

After some R&R at the hotel, we took the hotel shuttle back to the Waterfront area to find a dinner spot. We had an excellent meal of Maylasian curry and enjoyed a lot of people watching as we ate in the huge food court. 

Victoria Falls

​Yesterday was a long travel day. First, three hours on a chilly morning drive in an open game vehicle on unimproved roads through the bush to the airstrip. 

On the way, the drivers had to stop and clear a tree that had been pushed down by an elephant, and was blocking the road. 

And when we arrived at the airstrip our driver had to pull onto the runway to chase a herd of zebra off so that the plane could land. Then another hour flight in a Cessna Caravan. Interestingly, today both pilots were young women— and ours made one of the smoothest, most perfect landings I’ve seen in a while. Great that there are such opportunities for women in Africa! Finally, an hour bus ride followed by a lengthy border crossing (we’re back in Zimbabwe again) and another bus ride to our hotel.

Last evening we had our typical OAT “home-hosted meal.” A taxi delivered us to a modest house in the old township area. In colonial times, black residents were forced to live here, regardless of their economic status. So some homes here are quite nice, and others are shacks. 

We were met at the door by a very large woman who introduced herself. But when we had trouble pronouncing her name, she told us that her name meant “happy” and that we could just call her that.

The house is home to 3 generations: Happy, her mother, “Gogo” (meaning grandma), and children aged 20, 11, and 6.

We got the grand tour, including the kitchen. The preparation area, sink, and refrigerator were inside, the stove and oven just steps outside under a roofed patio to keep the heat out of the house.

In the kitchen they had set up a display of typical foods, including the tiny dried fish that are considered a luxury item, and the mopane worms that are a significant source of protein in this part of the world. Yes, we each ate one. Dried and roasted to a crisp, they taste like bacon, but with a somewhat uncomfortable crunch. Dinner was good.

This morning we visited Victoria Falls. It’s impossible to get a photo of the whole thing, because it’s a mile wide. 

After 3 very dry years, the rainy season here has been extreme this year. The volume of water going over the falls is at record levels, and the spray can go as high as 500 feet! (The African name for the falls before Livingstone — with typical colonial hubris — renamed them after his queen, translates as “the smoke that thunders.”)

The cloud of spray creates its own microclimate, so the surrounding area is a dense rainforest in the midst of a desert. Even though we were issued raincoats, we were well soaked by the nearly constant heavy rainfall. At the exit, I literally had to wring out my socks before we could walk on! It took all afternoon for my shoes to dry out in the sun. 

Most of the group returned to the hotel by bus, but we wanted to walk over the famous 1885 iron bridge over the Zambezi River gorge, down stream from the Falls. 

It was a short walk to the border post where we got a “bridge pass” without having to have our passports stamped again. Then we walked about a mile to the bridge through the “no man’s land” between nations. 

Neither Zimbabwe nor Zambia feel any need to maintain the road in this liminal space, so we got splattered with muddy water by vehicles passing us on the road. Baboons were playing on the parked semi trucks that were waiting to have their loads inspected by customs, and monkeys foraged in trash cans.

From the bridge, our view of the falls was largely obscured by the heavy mist, but the view of the gorge was quite nice. 

We walked back to the border station and presented our pass, then took a footpath that our tour leader had pointed out to us. It’s primarily used by locals as a shortcut and to avoid walking along the busy road that has only intermittent sidewalks. 

We spent the afternoon reading and relaxing by the hotel pool. Late afternoon we boarded the bus once again and headed up river for a sundown cruise.

At the ward we were greeted by a marimba band. An elephant and several baboons wandered by as we listened to them. We hardly notice anymore. The boat was an overgrown pontoon, and they served us a complimentary tropical cocktail and snack as we cruised. The snack included a cracker topped with crocodile meat. Tastes like chicken, but tough. 

Back at the hotel we had our farewell dinner on the lawn with a traditional group singing and dancing for us. 

The evening concluded with a show at a nearby theater, for which we paid extra. It was sort of musical theatre with a plot based on a traditional story. The dancing was excellent — the dancers obviously classically trained. They also sang very well. But the acting was a bit sketchy at times. A good show, but probably overpriced. 

Mabebe Camp

​Things are swampy in the Okavango Delta region. Many of the trails that the game drivers normally use are flooded.

We’ve seen lots of interesting birds — several different species of eagles, geese, storks, kites, and others.

One of the most beautiful is a turquoise-breasted roller.

Otherwise, we’ve seen few new animals. One can only take so many photos of giraffes, zebra, and elephants. The same with warthogs, wildebeests, and Cape buffalo. And of course, the impalas are everywhere.

Two exceptions: Yesterday we saw a hyena coming from a kill, carrying the leg of a buffalo in its mouth! We were hoping to get wherever he came from in case there were still lions around the kill, but we couldn’t find it.

The second exception was a pack of 19 African Painted Dogs. These are NOT vizslas or any other pets! They are fierce hunters.

The pack was oblivious to our vehicles, even when the word of their location got out on the radio and 4 or 5 other vehicles arrived on the scene.

We later ran into them in the bush as they were in a hunt.

And still later, on our way back to camp, we came upon them after dark. Quite the show!

The Longest Day

​This was a travel day, beginning with an hour-long bus ride to Kasane, the nearest city.

Kasane was a study in contrasts. A beautiful modern shopping center with large supermarket was across the street from a row of shacks where poor folks were selling handcrafts and produce.

The airport was not large, but also beautiful and brand new. We flew again in 12-passenger Cessna Caravans, but these were more like scheduled flights. We had people other than members of our group on board, and we stopped at another gravel airstrip in the bush to let them off and pick up another passenger.

We are in the Okavango Delta region which is very swampy. The airstrip we were supposed to use was flooded, so we had to land at another and be driven overland.

We had a stop for lunch beside one stream of the river and were taken on a “dugout canoe” (though it was fiberglass) through the reeds to look at some hippos.

But after that it was just a very long, hot slog over unimproved roads. We arrived at our new camp exhausted, but had a nice meal before showers and bed.

Monkey Attack

​This was another early morning wake up call, followed by breakfast and loading up for another game drive in the national park. This would be a long one — we didn’t return to camp for brunch, but stayed out for nearly 8 hours.

The drive covered a great deal of distance, going much farther into the park than we have been previously. The pace was also faster. Mary and I drew the back seat in the truck, and got bounced around a bit with the higher speeds on the unimproved roads. They call it, “The African massage,” but it doesn’t do much for one’s back.

The goal was to find one or more big cats — cheeta, leopard, or lion. So ignoring all but the most interesting of animals, we charged on. Our driver/game guide stopped nearly every oncoming driver to exchange information about what was to be seen ahead.

Thanks to one such exchange, we raced to a spot where at least 5 other trucks were already clustered. Here we got a glimpse of a leopard, just before she pounced on the guinnie hen she was stalking. She missed, and that was the end of the show.

This was a long game drive, so we didn’t return to camp for lunch. Instead, we parked at one of the national park’s very few and somewhat primitive picnic areas. The meal was challenging because half of us had to chase away hungry monkeys while the other half ate. 

The monkeys know this is a spot where people have food, and they are very aggressive. One jumped onto the serving table and ran off with half a loaf of good, homemade bread. Another snatched a muffin right out of someone’s hand.

The monkeys were rewarded at the end of the meal when one member of our group began feeding them. They’ll be hanging around for the next group of travelers after that!

We continued into the afternoon seeing lots of elephants, giraffes and warthogs. But nothing new.

Back at camp we watched elephants parade right through the camp property. Animals have boundary issues.

Dinner was a traditional African menu, which was actually quite good (although we still think that polenta, which is a staple of the diet here, tastes like paste).

The meal was followed by a cultural program by the camp staff. Their performance was a big step above those at the previous camps, with lots of harmony in the singing and dancing to very complex rhythms.