Showing posts with label South Africa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label South Africa. Show all posts

Sunday, July 17, 2016

South African Memory

My friend, Sharon, recently sent me a picture of myself from a trip I took back in 1989 when I visited her and her husband in southern Africa.  They were living in a suburb of Cape Town, South Africa at the time and together we visited a range of places in South Africa and Zimbabwe.  Her gift got me digging for some of my own pics and re-remembering of one of our little adventures.
 Ah, how old pictures stir the memory. During my extended visit to South Africa, my friends (and hosts) planned a couple of adventures for us to enjoy. One was a getaway to a Bed & Breakfast on a homestead outside of Worcester, South Africa.
 The farm was set in the middle of a great valley (pic #1) and was first established by Dutch colonists in the 17th Century. The family lived in a modest contemporary home on the farm. They converted the original structure, built in the 1690's to a guest cottage. It was small and cozy and very well appointed. it was so much nicer than those original inhabitants could have ever imaged, but still it was awe-inspiring. Like being allowed to spend a night on the Mayflower replica in Plymouth, Massachusetts--only it wasn't the replica!

I seem to remember that the ground floor was divided into two rooms: a sitting room and a bedroom. Through a trapdoor in the wood plank ceiling with the use of a crude wooden ladder, you could access the attic, and the owners of the B&B had made that into a second sleeping space--the space I slept in. It was too small for me to stand up in except at the apex (I'm 5'11"), and the ceiling of the space was the roof!--the underside of the thatched roof. Talk about super cool! I remember laying there on the little bed and listening to the sounds of the valley. The night was filled with insects chirping nearby and Baboons calling out in the distance.
 After breakfast, the farmer took us up a rough dirt road to a point along the edge of the valley (pic #2). We disembarked and then began the most amazing hike. He guided us up a ravine carved into the side of the valley by millennia of rainfall. As we hiked, the path went from expansive to narrow following the rut created by a stream. Sometimes we would encounter a pool that reflected the layers of pre-historic geography and present day flora (pic #3). At one point we found the skeletal remains of a baboon left in the cleft of a rocky outcropping.

 Eventually, we reached the plateau and were able to look back down into the crevice of the earth we had ascended (pic #4). And along the way there were encounters with the national flower of South Africa in it's natural setting. The proteus flower is like none other, and it is magnificent (pics #'s 5 & 6).

 Finally, this is a picture of my friend Sharon (pic #7), who was one of my hosts on that trip with the ravine and valley in the background.

Some want everyone to think the world is a scary place. But I know that it is scary. And amazing. And beautiful, interesting, historical, geological, biological.... Filled with people and animals and plants who are overwhelming benign, helpful, generous and gracious. That's my experience...and I'm sticking to it!

Monday, December 23, 2013

The 12 Most Amazing Places I Have Been

The end of the year just seems to demand the making of lists!  I present my 12 most amazing places that I have ever been in alphabetical order:
 Alps in Winter (by train), Switzerland
 Arches National Park, Utah, United States
 Fundy Bay, New Brunswick, Canada
 Greater Corn Island, Nicaragua
 Jessamine Creek Gorge, Kentucky, Unites States (Yes, that's me on the rock!)
 Manuel Antonio National Park, Costa Rica
 St. Peter's Basilica, Vatican City
 Sugar Loaf Mountain, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
 Table Mountain, Cape Town, South Africa
 Toroko Gorge, Taiwan, Republic of China
 Tortugero National Park, Costa Rica
Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe

Thursday, August 22, 2013

Houtbaai, South Africa Memoir

This is a photo taken this past summer by my friend Sharon of Houtbaai, South Africa. I have a nearly identical version that I took in 1989 when along with her husband the three of us drove this same path that she just revisited with their two sons.

We had spent the day touring the Cape of Good Hope, an equally breath-taking place. We had seen wild kudus, baboons that came right up to our car, and penguins on the beach. We'd hiked out to the observation platform with spectacular views of the tip of the cape. All this while Nelson Mandela languished in his cell on nearby Robbins Island.

It was a wonderful, long day and on the way home, Russ suddenly pulled the car over, and we picked up a hitchhiker. The car in question was an Opal: not a big car. With Sharon and Russ in the front seats, the rather portly Xhosa woman took the only seat available in the back next to me. Upon entering, she was as profuse with her gratitude as we were inspired by our Good Samaritan naïveté.

She was trying to get home to a segregated apartheid community on the outskirts of Houtbaai. As we drove there she took hold of my hand and stroked the back of it. In near tears she continued to thank us for our kindness, praises punctuated with the phrase "good sirs" over and over again. Her breath smelled of some sweet alcohol. She told us among other things that it was her birthday and she'd been celebrating it, and that she was a widow.

When we arrived at her neighborhood, we entered through an open access road while a “privacy” wall surrounded the entire collection of simple, cement houses with corrugated metal roofs. Once inside, it was like navigating a maze--a very convoluted labrynth. I found my attention drawn away from our guest and onto the numbers of adult men walking around and standing on street corners. Our presence among them got their attention in a way that honestly gave me great apprehension. Our hitchhiker-guest eventually indicated a particular corner far inside the community, and we left her there refusing the remuneration she offered, while accepting a shower of "God bless you, good sirs!"

Once she had disembarked, we suddenly found ourselves--three white people--in a place that was not ours and where we did not belong. The task of finding our way out suddenly felt paramount in a way that I personally had never felt about anything else before in my life. Groups of people were forming along the path we'd used to enter. Were they just curious or angry? I could not tell. I remember at that point slumping down a little and thinking, "what have we done?"

Russ clearly understood that we'd just found ourselves in the deep end of the pool. Somehow, he navigated us out of there without any trouble, with a sense of urgency that I completely shared. At the time it felt almost like a little miracle. I have traveled and lived all over the world and this was the only time I honestly thought I could be in some really deep shit. Perhaps that's why I remember it so well.

Monday, December 24, 2007