199 - Two, If By Polo Vivo (Johannesburg to Kosi Bay, South Africa)
OUR JOHANNESBURG ARRIVAL WASN’T SO AUSPICIOUS. Rain. A shit ton of it. Yes, it was the rainy season but, South Africa received elevated levels even for that time of year. Perfect. Had we done a little research, we would’ve discovered this. We hadn’t felt a drop in Mali. I missed the rain… like the desert misses the rain. I like rain. Actually, I love the rain, unless it reaches Biblical proportions. Then, it’s a pain in the ass.
We spent a fair amount of time at the airport trying to locate suitable lodging. After some research, Leslie phoned a guesthouse and arranged a pickup. Upon arrival, we felt like the annoying aunt and uncle who’d showed up unannounced. The room was nice enough, and we had access to a kitchen, but the mood was cold… brrrr. The owner was in town and had a group of friends staying there. She was semi-cordial, but her posse acted like we smelled.
We went for a stroll in the neighborhood to have a look-see. As we walked, all we’d heard and read streamed through our consciousness. Apartheid. Racism. Black. White. Jo'burg is known for crime, especially carjackings. We knew there were no-go neighborhoods, but believed the area was safe, though we did feel uneasy. Leslie thought it had a quasi-East L.A. feel to it. It was predominantly black, and we stuck way far out, but not because of our color as much for obviously being tourists. We visited a market, picked up some fish and chips at a food stand, got followed by a local looking for loose change, and returned to our guesthouse. Phew.
When we asked the owner if it was okay to walk around, her reaction was, “Ehhhh, I wouldn’t.” Good time to find that out. She lived in the Netherlands because she didn’t want to raise her daughter in Jo'burg. Here, I must emphasize we never had a problem for the duration of our trip in Southern Africa (including Namibia and Botswana), but we encountered some white folks who behaved as if they could be murdered in their sleep on any given night. It became increasingly difficult to assess reality in light of mostly positive experiences.
We decided to find another place to hang our hat and soon moved to a backpacker-oriented hostel named Gemini. Let's just say it was less than impressive. I understand it was the slow season and standards may slip a bit, but this place was unpleasant. I’ll use the word “shithole.” Our room was dark, depressing, and full of insect life. The communal kitchen felt neglected, and the rest of the facilities adhered to a similar decorum. After spotting a rat in the kitchen while cooking dinner, we chose to vacate the following day. Don't get me wrong, I love rats, just not in the kitchen.
While being driven from one guesthouse to the next, our black South African taxi driver expounded upon the failure of Nigerian immigrants to contribute to society. According to him, you’ll never see a Nigerian doing any type of work and emphasized their responsibility for a disproportionate amount of crime. Uh-huh. All this as we passed through a Nigerian neighborhood. I guess racism rolls downhill… yuck.
We landed at a pleasant guesthouse in a decent neighborhood. And by “decent neighborhood,” I mean one where every home is sequestered behind a formidable wall protected by electrified fencing and monitored (as in patrolled) by a security company employing armed guards more than willing to show up on a moment's notice and blow your fucking ass to smithereens. Mister Rogers would not approve.
Maybe not such a hot idea to stop for a photo… dummies.
To make a long, boring story short, we passed a week in Jo'burg planning our assault on Southern Africa. We dreamed of renting a 4WD Toyota Hilux with a pop-up camper in the bed but settled for a Volkswagen Polo Vivo and a tent. The rental rate, price of fuel, and liability not covered in the rental agreement steered us away from the 4WD. In reality, all you need is a 2WD and a positive attitude… maybe. We regretted this somewhat, as there were places we couldn’t get to and other places we shouldn’t have been. If you can swing it, go with the 4WD and rejoice.
It took time to get used to driving… again. The driving lane and steering wheel are on the “wrong” side, as opposed to America, where everything is on the “right” side. Throw in Johannesburg traffic, nonfunctioning robots (i.e. traffic lights), and general confusion for a stressful driving experience. Yes.
(Ever wonder why the hell one-third of the world drives on a different side of the road? Check out “Why Some Countries Drive On the Right Some Countries Drive On The Left” for a semi-conclusive answer.)
Getting around is vexing. Why? Well, when you design a city with apartheid in mind, you lay out a series of semi-self-contained areas with no actual center, notwithstanding the business district, which you don't want to visit anyway. As a result, I saw more Western-style malls than I expected. Every area needs its own shopping hub. I found this surprising and a little unsettling. It felt like somewhere between Tampa and Orlando. I also spent way more time at the mall than I’m comfortable with (i.e. any time at all), but it was a necessary evil and made locating camping paraphernalia expedient.
We headed north to an area known as “The Cradle of Humankind,” a World Heritage Site swimming in ancient history. There’s also some sort of rhino and lion park where one can frolic with baby lions… if you’re into that sort of thing… which I’m not ‘cause it’s embarrassing… and I’m not a child… and I certainly wouldn’t want to roll around with baby lions… ever… cause that’s just stupid… and the child within never fantasized about such… ever… sniffle.
We couldn’t find a place to camp, outside a few bible retreats and a campsite that was inexplicably closed. Probably just as well. We stopped there for lunch, and I almost got my ass kicked by Vervet monkeys (with their signature blue balls) hell-bent on confiscating my peanut butter and jelly sandwich. This is why feeding animals is a terrible idea. They turn into aggressive asshole food vigilantes.
We considered Kruger National Park and some other areas in the north, but the weather forecast dissuaded us. Even in a typical year, our visit was ill-timed, as the “green season” allows animals to hide amongst the dense vegetation. That would be okay, but relentless rainfall spoiled the plan, so we stopped in Pretoria at a hostel with an area to place a tent. Trial run? Successful. Game on, campers.
The next day, we went east. Destination: Kosi Bay. I’m pretty sure 95% of all the roads in South Africa were under construction. Improved roads are good. I’m in favor, but the method of construction involved reducing long stretches (three to five kilometers) of highway to a single lane and allowing one direction at a time. Patience is a virtue. At times, I wasn’t feeling very virtuous.
Of course, it wasn’t long before we understood the need for extensive maintenance. One road leading to Kosi Bay was so potholed, I thought we might destroy the car. We didn’t, but we managed to lose a hubcap. Leslie noticed said hubcap spinning off into oblivion, which allowed us to backtrack and retrieve it. Yay.
Kosi Bay contains four estuary lakes and “some of South Africa's most beautiful and quiet beaches.” I agree with the quoted portion. We found a beautiful campground (Utshwayelo Campsite) a peaceful twenty-five-minute walk from the ocean through a picturesque salt marsh. One word: sublime. I’m sure the time of year and the weather were two reasons for the dearth of visitors, but I sensed even with lots of folks running around, it might still be worth visiting. The water is the perfect temperature for swimming, and the beach is a great spot to let your eyes glaze over and stare into the beyond. A local boy and I spent an hour bodysurfing, attempting not to asphyxiate on seawater. This was almost as fun as playing grab-ass with baby lions would’ve been… almost.
I had suntan lotion. Sure, I did. Did I use it? No, I didn’t. Result? The worst sunburn of my life… ouchie. Leslie was also a victim of imprudence. We suffered for our insolence for over a week. Stupid. Just plain stupid.
“Johannesburg: it’s gritty, crime runs rampant, stoplights are called robots, and it’s impossible not to get lost. Every house resembles Fort Knox. Barred windows, electric fences, and barbed wire; you name it, they’ve all got it.
We escaped the heat, but ran into rain – lots of it. Torrential downpours were a daily occurrence. We stayed at a few shady places, before relocating to a comfy B&B in the trendy suburb of Melville.
It took almost a week to get our bearings. Obtaining a rental car was the biggest hurdle to jump. There are walk-in, over the phone, and online rates – all different. Trying to keep these straight was next to impossible. We called almost every rental company within the city and visited every office at the airport. In the end, we went with Avis. The slogan ‘We try harder’ instilled confidence; what can I say?
It should be mentioned that we walked into the office, received a rate, walked outside, made a reservation online for half the price, and then walked back in. Hmmmmm. In hindsight, that should have been the first red flag.
With a VW Polo in our possession, we went in search of camping gear. After two very long days of shopping, we managed to fill it up with the necessary supplies. In the process, we befriended Sage, an employee from a local outdoor store. As luck would have it, he and his wife own a tour company and offered to discuss our plans over dinner. They offered some insight on the area, tips for our trip, and shared some rather entertaining stories. Most notable: Sage being stolen by a baboon as a baby – a worry we don’t have at home.
With our car full and maps in tow, we were ready to hit the road. We had two months, three countries, and almost 15,000 kilometers to cover.”
Leslie Peralta, “Jo’burg” — Soledad: Notes From My Travels
“After a few wrong turns, we finally made our way out of Johannesburg, headed to The Cradle of Humankind. The area is home to a large number of fossils, as well as some of the oldest hominid fossils ever found, dating back 3.5 million years. The setting was lovely, but unfortunately, we couldn’t stay. We drove up and down, and all around, in search of a campsite. As the sun started to set, we called it quits and landed in Pretoria for the night.
The roads took a turn for the worse as we exited the Gauteng province and entered KwaZulu-Natal. It seems that most of the country is under construction, which means road closures and long waits. If it’s not a construction zone, it’s an obstacle course, as there are more potholes and craters than tarred road. Sprinkle in some livestock and the occasional roadside mob, and you have what I like to call a cluster-(bleep). In fact, that’s South Africa in a nutshell.
After a long day of driving and losing a hubcap, we arrived at Kosi Bay, in the northeast corner close to the Mozambique border. The place was practically empty, so we setup camp for a few days. The beach was stunning and quite possibly one of the nicest I’ve ever seen. We spent an entire day lounging around, enjoying the lovely weather. While sitting in the sand, attempting to take it all in, I befriended an adorable little boy. He spoke very little English, so instead of talking, we laughed and played on the beach, making sand castles.
He eventually joined Rich in the water. I could have easily sat there for hours, watching them toss back and forth in the waves. They seemed so happy, so content – without a care in the world.
Sunblock was no match for the rays that day. We received horrible burns without feeling a thing – nothing a little wine couldn’t fix, though.”
Leslie Peralta, “A Cozy Time In Kosi Bay” — Soledad: Notes From My Travels