Up The Coast

We arrived yesterday morning in Durban, exhausted and disorientated from a 17 hour bus ride. Going against the tourist norm of either hiring a car or catching the “Baz Bus”, a sanitized tourist shuttle which literally plucks you from one backpackers and deposits you on the doorsteps of another, we chose the incredible cramped local Option. Squashed between the overly generous curves of an African mama and her squirming toddler, and separated from my love by a tiny aisle, we bounced through the night, jerked awake every time our eyes dared to close, by the fluorescent lights and the sounds of children vomiting.  The CityLiner buses are used almost solely by black Africans and are the cheapest long distance public transport available. The bus company had certainly maximized the number of seats available, by squeezing three across on one side and another two on the other, separated by a narrow aisle, which forced any person larger than an eight year old child to walk sideways down.

During our journey up the coast we spent a few nights at Knysna, part of the Garden route, before busing up to Jeffereys bay. The countryside between these places is absolutely beautiful, rocky mountains, plunging down to sandy white beaches and fields of greenness.

Jeffereys bay became our home for the good part of the week. A somewhat scruffy, lazy, surf town, Jeffereys bay is a home to ‘Supertubes’ said to be ‘the most perfect wave in the world’, in the winter months.  Juho and I however, did little more than sit on the beach and watch the surfers and the fishermen. At one point we witnessed some local guys reel in a baby great white, and that was enough to convince us they we really did not need to do anything more adventurous than just sit and watch.

Durban, population over 3.5 million, is a fairly intimidating, crime ridden city. It is also one of the most interesting, given the large concentration of people of Indian descent.  After securing our Mozambique visas, Juho and I wandered the streets sampling Indian curries and the infamous “Bunny Chow”, a hollowed out loaf of bread, stuffed with curry. We stumbled into some pretty rough areas, and decided the road was ultimately more safe to walk on than the street, at a certain point, when a large group of bulky African men closed in on us , muttering “Whatcha doing White boy”, in fairly intimidating tones.

Tomorrow we continue on to Maputo, Mozambique via Johannesburg. Already I can hear the first few chords of Dylan’s “Mozambique” beckoning us forward “I’d like to spend some time in Mozambique, the sunny sky is aqua blue, and all the couples dancing cheek to cheek….”

Cape Town, The English version.

No idea what Juho has written below, but I’ll blatantly ignore that Finnish dribble and proceed with the language of English. We arrived today in Knysna, a smallish town up the coast from Cape Town. Despite its beauty I have to admit I am quite glad to leave Cape Town behind. Don’t get me wrong Cape Town is a stunning city, reminding me a little of Sydney, if we are going to make Australian comparisons, but it made Juho and I somewhat uncomfortable. The massive disparity between have and have nots is so devastatingly apparent in Cape Town. From the glitzy Waterfront and Camps bay to the destitution and crime ridden Cape flats, Cape Town is a city of divide.

We stayed in a beautiful home in Green Point 21 Braemer st (http://www.23braemer.co.za/Home-273.htm), owned by a charming and friendly man who rents out two rooms and shares his pool and stories with travel folk from around the globe. We wandered the picturesque Waterfront for the first day, feeling like we were on Sydney harbour, except for the awesome African bands, which seemed to be playing on every corner. The view of Table Mountain inescapable and absolutely beautiful. We mingled in bars with upper class locals, with whom we had nothing in common except for skin colour.

Luckily for us our lovely friend Marion had hooked us up with a French friend of hers, Yoel, who took us touring around the cape in his car on the second day. As we wound our way along the narrow coast roads we ogled the dramatic mountain ranges and wild, shark infested waters framed by white, deserted beaches. Absolutely breathtaking. Yoel runs a French Creperie on the quieter side of the Cape peninsular: “Excuse my French”. Attached to an antique store and oozing originality, “Excuse my French” overlooks the harbour and is filled with French paraphernalia, including an extensive collection of frogs.

Up at 5 this morning, we trekked towards the bus station, the streets getting dodgier the closer we got. Juho managed to scare off two muggers, who cornered us in the empty streets, by comparing pocket knifes. Apparently Juho’s was bigger.

                            

Baboon just chilling

Cape Townisa

Jeesus pitkien lentojen jalkee paastii kuitenki perille. Eka lentohan oli peruttu Melbournesta Singaporee ja jouduttii starttaan paivaa myohemmin. Singaporesta Cape Townii oli pari stoppia ja jouduttiin viettaa yo Dohasa Qatarisa, ehka maailman paskimmalla lentokentalla (Tampereen Ryanairi kenttaa ei kylla silti voita mikaa). Johannesburgisa oli stoppi josa oli tarkotus vaan jattaa sinne jaavat pois. Eipa menny sekaan ihan putkeen ku joku pappa ei tajunnu ideaa ennenku oltiin jo menossa takas kiitoradalle. Ei muutako takas terminaali etta pappa paasee koneesta pois. Sitte seuraavat kaks tuntii laskeskeltiin etta oiskohan nyt oikee maara porukkaa koneessa. Paastiin kuitenki muutama tunti myohasa Cape Townii. Jepa.. Cape Townisa siis nyt. Lepin nakonen paikka tahan mennesa ollu. Taala paikalliset valkonaamat ajelee isien Jaguaareilla baarista toiseen simppailemaan pikku Shampanjat. Hienoltahan se nayttaa. Vaha niinku ois pamahtanu johonki Hollywoodin bileisiin missa koitettas kilpaa sylkea alempi arvosia. Ei ihme etta illalla koyhat mustat pojat tuntee olevansa oikeutettuja riisumaan puku pellet ostoksistaan. Anyway enempaa valittamatta, on kylla helvetin komeen nakonen paikka. Suhteellisen halpaaki viela. Keppana indexi kertoo etta pintti costaa sen 2e ja hyva lankkari safka jotain 4e pintaa.

Singapore

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Singapore has been our resting place for the past few days as we prepare ourselves, both mentally and physically for our journey through Africa. We reside in Little India and spend our days traipsing across the various districts of the city; China Town, Arab street, the ritzy Marina and the shopping mecca Orchard road.
Everywhere we go: shops. It seems consumer culture is in its most exaggerated form here, it is a little scary .I find myself dodging street sales people, and gasping over the insane prices people are willing to pay for a label on their bag. If Singapore was only about shopping I would be very put off, but the food, oh the glorious food! Hand stretched noodles made right in front of us, dumplings, frog hot pot, chilli crab, bubble tea, garlic naan, and all kinds of unknown northern and southern Indian delights.
On our first evening we wandered through China Town and came across groups of old men, gathered around tables, playing some form of chess with funny round pieces, identifying themselves with Chinese script. We sat for quite some time, marvelling at the seriousness of the game, the utter silence and concentration.


Tonight we leave for Cape town, via Doha in Qatar. 7 hours to Doha, 7 hours in the airport, and then 9.5 hours to Cape Town. Holy moly!