eTravelling Around the iWorld

Here we are, sitting in a Jo’burg News Café, using their free wifi, or at least trying to because it won’t connect. It has become a familiar picture for the last three months, bags packed, a blog posted, now where to next? How do we get there? Where will we stay? It’s a mystery how we managed to travel before the internet came along.  I vaguely remember dropping off the face of the earth for months on end; maybe a postcard here or a visit to an international call centre there, but that was it.

This time around, we are fully connected, or at least as connected as the laptop wireless and mobile reception will allow. And we have also enjoyed a slightly different approach to our backpacking days. The backpacks have been dropped in favour of suitcases with wheels and we have tried to spend as long as possible at each place we have stopped, ideally about a week. Shirls has been joking that we now neatly fit in to the ’55 and Over’ travel bracket when choosing places to stay. 'Perfect for families and small children'? No thanks. 'A smart little self-catering apartment on a back street'? That will do nicely. 'Handy to some really pumping nightclubs and bars'? Ah, maybe we’ll look elsewhere. Now, if we could just get one of those pensioner rail passes…

A Moving Experience

Teams have started to arrive in Johannesburg for the FIFA World Cup. Yesterday Brazil touched down, the day before, Australia. It seems that every piece of road is being hurriedly re-built, widened or spruced up. Many of the traffic lights are not working, adding another challenge to driving our small Kia rental car around the city. At the road intersections the street sellers have swapped their standard wares for South African flags, pennants, wing mirror covers, and the long clarinet-shaped (but deafening) hooters called vuvuzelas.

Every day the newspapers carry a front page story on some aspect of the Cup; a new scandal, a grand opening, a grinning fan. The county has whole-heartedly embraced the first soccer World Cup to be held on the African continent.

With only a passing interest in the beautiful game, we have come here for a different reason – to move house. Well, actually no. It just happens that Shirls’ brother and family are moving back in to their newly renovated home, so we have offered to help out. The almost complete re-build has been a major accomplishment for Alan and Sandré, project managing, buying all the materials and somehow finding time for work and taking care of baby Owen and his older brother Brad.

House construction here is complicated by matters of security. A guard is required to ensure that none of the materials (bricks, sand, wood) disappear overnight.

This is Blessing, the ever smiling security guard. Many Africans have wonderfully descriptive names: Gift, Praisegod, Beauty. In a city like Johannesburg, better known internationally for its murder rate and poverty, the colourfulness and cheerfulness of the people is like a salve, soothing society’s wounds… Now I’ve come over all prosaic.

Some things change, some stay the same

Blog by Shirls

I’m writing this blog looking at a view that I first saw 23 years ago - the dark blue water of Sterkfontein dam curving around ancient mountains, soft sun sparkling on the water, breeze softly stirring the grasses. Bruce and I are spending a few days at Qwantani which is a remote, high country area where I spent many wonderful holidays with family and friends while in my teens and 20’s. I haven’t been back to this area for a long time but looking at this familiar view it feels like nothing has changed. But it strikes me how much has changed in the past 20 years.

In the late 1980’s, South Africa was still in the grip of segregation and was a pariah in the world. It was hard to be a proud South African when there were so many reasons not to be. But things started to change. People started to change. Politicians put aside their anger, fears and prejudice and started to talk, and in 1994 the first free elections were held where all people were allowed to vote. At the Westville polling station where I was a volunteer, a 94-year old lady told me with tears in her eyes that this was the first time she could vote, and she was so glad to finally get the chance.

The country waited for the outcome of the elections, hoping that the doomsayers would be proved wrong about everything descending into chaos overnight. (I bet they got tired of eating all their stockpiled canned food!) Those doomsayers were wrong. We got a new President, a new flag, a new national anthem, a new constitution. And for the first time they belonged to the whole country. Mandela spoke about forgiveness and reconciliation, and wore a Springbok rugby jersey to the World Cup. People could start to feel proud.

Today the Bulls rugby team from Pretoria played rugby against a New Zealand team in Orlando Stadium, a soccer stadium in the heart of Soweto. Rugby has never been played there before. There was a capacity crowd, from all walks of life. A middle-aged white woman was interviewed and said it was the first time she’d ever ventured into Soweto and the welcome and atmosphere and shared elation was one of the best experiences of her life.

Politicians haven’t made the biggest advances here, the real people have. The people who make their lives in this vibrant, welcoming and conflicted country, who do their jobs and raise their children and in spite of ongoing issues, keep adapting. And laughing, sometimes through tears, but always ready to laugh.

If you are not from South Africa (and that includes me now that I live in New Zealand!), when you think about the country, think about the resilience and generosity of the people. Don’t dwell on the problems, because they aren’t! They're too busy getting on with life. And visit, because it is a spectacularly beautiful country.

And if you are from South Africa then know that you are an inspiration, and deserve to feel proud of everything that you have changed.

Durban Bunnies

Blog by Shirls

Today, Bruce ate a quarter bunny. No need to call the SPCA though because a bunny (or a bunny chow if you want to be 100% accurate) is a Durban delicacy. Dad took us to the middle of an industrial area, to a betting shop filled with happy punters to make sure we got the real deal, not some tourist version served in the city.

It’s comprised of a quarter loaf of white bread with a chunk taken out of the middle. Into the cavity is scooped a large amount of lip-burning mutton curry, and on the side is a carrot and chilli salad. It’s normally eaten without cutlery. And is delicious! Or so I’m told, because I have never been able to face that amount of white bread. Instead I had my curry in a roti, but Bruce ate his the authentic way, picking out the bones and washing it down with a Castle Lager. A curry-stained thumbs up!

The Moses Mabhida Stadium

While Auckland was debating whether to upgrade Eden Park or build a new blight on the waterfront for the 2011 Rugby World Cup, South Africa was busy finishing off five brand new stadiums and five refurbished ones for the 2010 FIFA World Cup. Durban now has a 70,000 seat venue for the event, which will be reduced to a more modest 54,000 after the cup has finished.

Sitting near the beach like an open shell, it looks very Santiago Calatrava, but is actually the work of the German firm Gerkan Marg and Partners.

Soaring overhead, the main forked arch supports the lighting, seating shades and also a 25 person cablecar and two sets of stairs. Feeling energetic, we decide to climb up the (550) stairs to the top.

The Dragon Mountains

We are staying in a small cottage in the Drakensberg. Mike and Barbara picked us up in Durban and we drove straight to Lake Navarone, in the Southern ‘Berg’. There isn’t a breath of wind. As the sun sets hundreds of frogs start chirping in the lake next to the cottage.

The cool mountain air is crystal clear; the Milky Way stretches from horizon to horizon.

Inside, the coal range proves to be a little temperamental and starts losing heat half way through the roast. Luckily, Barbara is well prepared. A pre-cooked chicken tonight, the roast can wait ‘til tomorrow.

Going Postal

Today, we finally offload something which has been driving me nuts.  In Tuscany, which now feels like a long time ago, we bought a sturdy metal Poste Italiane approved letterbox, complete with lock and key from a hardware store in Pienza, a small medieval village near Montepulchiano (a slightly larger medieval village).

Ever since then it has been occupying a significant space in my wheelie suitcase as I drag it down cobbled streets, onto trains, up flights of stairs, to four different apartments and five hotels, and finally on a flight to London.  So, before we begin the last leg of our travels it’s time to visit the post office to post our Poste Italiane post box.  And then it's time to visit the pub, before going for a brisk walk through Epping Forest.

The week and a half in Blighty has flown by (witness the lack of blogs).  Everything is familiar for both Shirls and me, the locals are friendly and we speak the lingo.  Tomorrow we fly to Africa.  I will have to learn some more Afrikaans.  So far Shirls has taught me "Gaan kak in die mielies".

London Calling

The flight from Bordeaux to London went without much note, as flights tend to do.  One moment you are here, the next you are there.  We are in Theydon Bois, in semi-rural Essex.  The trees in the street sag with bountiful spring blossoms and rabbits bounce around on the nearby fields.

It is Election Day, and for once the contest is more than just a two horse race between Labour and the Tories.  The ‘Lib Dems’ are putting up a good show and everybody is watching eagerly to see what the result will be.  Well, not everybody.  We have been enjoying some of the other attractions, the Tate Britain gallery (not to be confused with the Tate Modern), a good old pub lunch, the 'Grand Designs Live' show (which happens to be on at the moment, honest, it’s a pure coincidence!)  Our hosts have been unreasonably nice and Shirls has been enjoying lots of catch-up time with her best mate. It will be very hard to leave, despite the nippy spring weather.