I am now back in Stellenbosch after the excitement of escaping the (not too) harsh Western Cape winter for some sunshine. Again this has taken me a long time to update (I’m sorry!) I started writing this whilst watching the Wimbledon final, but the excitement of Murray’s triumph put me off, and then I got swept up with work and ROYAL BABY MADNESS (which I am petitioning the GMC to classify as an official condition). That I have gained the tan that I have during the depth s of the African winter is incredible—it may not be mahogany quite yet, but it is certainly teak!
Mozambique was a real experience: both good and bad. In the end the goods outweighed the bad, but it wasn’t wholly what I was expecting, and I was a bit disappointed, given how excited I had been about going there and had been looking forward to it for so long.
Our trip began with a night in Johannesburg before catching the bus across the border to Maputo (the capital) the next morning. Trying to get across Jo’burg during morning rush hour isn’t the easiest task in the world and I was rather on edge over whether we would make it in time. This being Africa, of course it all worked out and we were by no means the last. The whole system was very well organised and we were soon on our way. Only to stop virtually straight away for an hour on the ring road, which is how long it took for a woman to remember that the bag that was holding us up actually belonged to her! We eventually made it to the Mozambican border and with no hold ups were o n our way to Maputo.
As soon as we crossed the border there was a noticeable change in the landscape. Rich red soils, lush greenery and countless goats. In one of my favourite travelogues, Swahili for the Broken Hearted, Peter Moore comments that there is an inverse correlation between number of goats and prosperity. His observation seemed fitting for Mozambique- the poorer the areas that we drove through; the more goats there were. Immediately I felt like I was somewhere more tropical than South Africa. The resemblance to Tanzania was clear with the ladies selling their bananas, tomatoes and cassava leaves by the side of the road and the children- from babes to teens wandering to nowhere in particular. What struck me most was the variety of colours—the north-eastern corner of South Africa from Nelspruit to the border is a vast blandness of parched grass. To have crossed into somewhere with a brightly coloured natural environment as well as dukkas that are colourfully garbed—most commonly in the coloured hoardings of Vodacom (I have begun to wonder whether they are the new sponsor of Africa)—was enough to cheer us up, as was the blazing sunshine!
The slow crawl into the capital (we hit the outskirts bang on rush hour) was a real test of my patience, it really made the journey feel never ending. It was also tense because we were arriving considerably later than we were due, so it was now dark, we were somewhere we’d never been before, with a growing reputation for crime and had no idea where we were supposed to get off the bus, no local currency and despite Vodacom’s promises, I no longer had a working cell phone.
Nevertheless we survived the streets of Maputo and some of its more salubrious characters and made it (almost hassle-free) to our hostel. Now I have always been an avid user of Lonely Planet’s and have usually found them to be spot-on and ( shamefully, perhaps) have regarded them as a bible when venturing to pastures new. But for Maputo, I wondered whether they had actually ever been there. Concerned a few days later about whether I had got the wrong impression, I was pleased that fellow travellers were just as disenchanted with the author’s apparent love of Maputo and their recommended sights. A particular joke became the city’s train station—apparently in the top 10 of beautiful station’s worldwide—designed by Eiffel (of tower fame) it would appeal only to those interested in crumbling wrecks! Luckily few of my fellow travellers saw the appeal either. Having lived in Tanzania for 6 months and travelled to various other African countries I have got somewhat used to the sights and smells that may upset t hose of a more sensitive disposition, and in fact the open sewers, mounds of rubbish and gag-inducing smells I found bearable. What I really detested were the people. Knowing that portuguese was the lingua franca I had attempted to learn the basics. This, however, did not seem to win over the Mozambicans, who were hell bent on taking us for a ride, sexually harassing us and on the whole making us wonder if they really just hated tourists coming to their country. The final straw came for me with a visit to the fish market (another top recommendation from LP), where we fell for the tourist trap of buying our fish and then taking it to one of the restaurants next door to be cooked: we stupidly didn’t confirm t he price and were completely fleeced. I think I was actually angrier with myself than the guy, I couldn’t believe we had been so stupid. It put a bit of a dampener on proceedings and we went back to the hostel with heavy hearts; a sharp contrast to the spring in our step that we had left with.
Eiffel's Iron House, Maputo
One of the most beautiful train station's in the world (apparently)
One of the most expensive plates of food I've ever eaten!!
The next leg of our adventure began with our first horrendously early bus journey of the trip. The bus was due to leave at 5am, so we were told to be ready by 4.30am, which meant crawling out of our mosquito nets just after 4—of course, as with everywhere else, Mozambique was truly on African time, and we really shouldn’t have bothered getting up until 5.30, as it was close to 6 before it arrived. The ‘bus’ was a cross between a minibus and a normal size bus- as well as the fixed seats there were also ‘flip’ seats in the middle. I knew that we were looking at an 8 hour journey so I was determined to pick a good seat- i. e. a fixed one with a back support. I also knew from experience that it was worth picking your neighbour wisely: livestock is a no no, as is smelly food and unfortunately, smelly people. Half an hour in and with my seating area reduced to half of what it should have been (both my neighbours liked to stretch out) I was beginning to question my decision. Stupidly I turned down the red wine which my Kiwi neighbour proffered (I thought it was a bit early, even for me) although I may have managed to gain some much needed sleep if I had accepted. The journey was largely uneventful if excruciatingly uncomfortable, except for my being handed a baby after our only loo break—I was quite happy with the content ‘little princess’ that my neighbour handed me, until she said happily, that her baby never made a fuss about being looked after by a stranger and would usually be quite happy for 2 hours—oh no you don’t, I thought, and swiftly handed her back!
I was very pleased when we eventually bumped down the dusty and sandy road to Tofo. As we walked out onto the sun deck of our hostel and looked out over the glorious Indian Ocean, I almost forgot about the hideous journey we had just endured. Almost, although the crick in my neck and aching back soon put paid to that! The beach was a vast swathe of golden sand contrasted against a deep blue crashing surf. The next day when we decided to test the water, the waves were even more spectacular and knocked me off my feet more than once. The water was also quite a bit colder than I had been expecting. I was hoping to wade into a nice hot bath, but instead felt myself prickling as goosepimples threatened to break out—I mean, it was still considerably warmer than home, or even South Africa. Tofo didn’t have a whole lot more to offer other than the opportunity to lie on the beach, go for a dip or engage in endless bartering with the beach boys plying their wares. This was, however, a welcome relief and the main objective of coming up to Mozambique was to laze in the winter sun and occasionally cool off in the ocean—mission accomplished!
Before moving further northwards, I spent a night in Inhambane, the provincial capital and a short ferry hop across the bay to Maxixe (where the bus north departed from). As lovely as Tofo was, it was definitely the type of place where you could suddenly discover you had spent two weeks without really realising. My bar bill attested to the fact that it was time to move on (Mozambique is the poster child for Africa not being the cheap backpacker haven that everyone assumes the continent is)! I had expected it to be more expensive than South Africa; just not as expensive as it really was (countless grumblings with my fellow travellers confirmed that they were equally shocked and struggling to budget too). It made my anti-malarial measure of at least one G&T a day harder to achieve—suddenly prophylaxis treatment seemed the easier, and cheaper option! I had a slight problem though : I had run out of cash. There was no ATM in Tofo, and although there was one about 10 minutes away, apparently it only accepted Visa. I therefore embarked on a near-3 hour round trip to Inhambane (only actually about a 30 minute drive away but a fully laden minibus (sorry, overladen—I gave up when I counted 27 people in a vehicle meant for 12) can’t muster much power and the endless stops and manoeuvring involved in trying to get said 27 people in and out at their various destinations. Such a way of travel provides endless entertainment, but is short on comfort and frays patience rapidly. Anyway, to Inhambane it was again that afternoon. Again, this is given a glowing write up in LP. Unlike Maputo I did feel it was more deserving of positive feedback (even if it was a bit O.T.T. in LP). Faded colonial grandeur is probably the kindest description, although in certain places, crumbling wrecks looking like a bomb has hit them, is perhaps more apt. There was, however, a charm to Inhambane with its mill-pond-like bay with dhows gently cruising across to Maxixe and Flamingos loitering close to shore and some of the best bread I had ever had (luckily bread was the cheapest thing available and completely delicious, so we never went completely hungry). Trying to get the boat across to Maxixe the next morning was pretty smooth-sailing except for the ferry-boy trying to get me to pay double the price of the fare because of my pack (despite arguing that I bet the woman opposite carrying what looked like all of her life possessions hadn’t had to pay any extra). I had already bought my ticket and nothing had been mentioned about a luggage charge. I tried arguing, fairly fruitless as neither of us knew the others language enough to sustain our point. Eventually, frustrated and exasperated and fearing I was going to be refused passage I paid up (all of 20p—but it’s the principle eh?!). I decided to use the experience as a research exercise for my thesis, proving that all levels of society really do engage in corruption, and are ‘on the take’. My anger didn’t last long as after disturbing some flying sardines as we left dock, we were rewarded with the beautiful (and rather magical) sight of a pair of dolphins leaping and diving in complete synchronisation.
The journey to Vilankulo was uneventful and the height of luxury on a South African coach (with purpose-built reclining seats—rather a contrast to the reclining seats offered by the minibus, purely because they were no longer fixed to the floor!) The bus didn’t actually go to Vilankulo itself, so instead I had to catch a ride in the back of a pick-up truck. Its owner had gone all out, screwing benches to the sides and protecting us from the baking sun and whistling wind by putting bamboo screens up and over the seats. Having negotiated walking with all of my gear (the first time I’d had to properly this trip) in the blazing mid-day sun down roads which were no more than dusty, sandy tracks I made it to Baobab Beach where I was to stay for the next week or so. the view when I arrived at Tofo had taken my breath away, but Vilankulo really knocked the spots off it. It was the scene of all the travel literature on Mozambique. The most incredible, beautiful sight of clear turquoise waters and white sand of the beach and sandbanks, with islands on the horizon with sailing dhows bobbing on the foreshore, fringed with palm and coconut trees. In fact words just cannot do it justice, so here you go....
Vilankulo was by far my favourite place in Mozambique that we visited. Undoubtedly it was incredibly beautiful; a real tropical paradise, but also it had a much more pleasant atmosphere than anywhere else that we visited. It was a pleasure to visit the market; to barter with the stallholders for their delicious, fresh produce. In one memorable exchange I asked the price of a crab—it was 20 meticais (about 50 pence)—satisfied with this, I said yes, only for the lady to fill a bag with six of them. Every night we managed to have a seafood feast, usually consisting of prawns or squid; bought directly from the fisherman in his boat, you couldn’t get anything fresher, cheaper, or more delicious! I have now become somewhat of an expert at gutting a squid in order to prepare calamari (another of life’s vital skills, I’m sure)! I got into a routine in Vilankulo consisting of breakfast in the sun, before a quick laze on the beach before it got too hot and then a stroll to the market to buy provisions for the day. After a leisurely lunch of fresh avocados and tomatoes, I would return to the beach to read my book or update my diary before going along the beach to meet the fishermen to inspect their wares and purchase our supper. We really were living the good life, and unsurprisingly we were in no rush to move on.
Step one: buy your squid
Step two: take it home
Step three: gut your squid
Step four: supper time!
We also managed to do a bit of sailing with one of the dhow operators: first a sunset cruise (gliding around the bay and across towards the islands, with no sound other than the wind in the sails and of course, the obligatory rap music that was favoured by our skipper and his crew)! I was then invited along for an afternoon’s sailing around the bay, on the premise of testing a new boat, the view was only better from the boat, as you could see not just across to the islands, but also back to the endless sandy beach—a real highlight. Then finally, having been delayed from leaving by rebel fighting further north (and the consequent cancelling of transport), with an extra day to spare we went on an island snorkelling trip. This was absolutely incredible, and without a doubt the best thing that I did, not just in Mozambique but during my time here, full stop. We snorkelled along two-mile reef in the Bazaruto Archipelago and the variety of fish, sea creatures and coral was breath-taking (quite literally when I had an incredibly ugly, giant orange octopus come right up to my face)! I just wish that I had an underwater camera to capture it, definitely somewhere to go back to! We had our lunch on Bazaruto itself and it was amazing what our chef managed to create for us—a huge lunch of braaied barracuda with rice and a multitude of salads and bread—it was incredible, particularly as he was equipped only with a fish holder and a pile of charcoal to cook on the rocks! Again, I cannot describe the beauty and scale of the island, which is dominated by a huge sand dune, which gives way to pools of translucent turquoise water at the shoreline. It was one of the most stunning vistas I have ever seen firsthand. next was an incredibly wet speedboat ride back to the mainland- having got rather sunburnt I thought sitting in the wettest position of the boat would cool me down. What I hadn’t realised was that the water had got considerably choppier since we left and I arrived back wetter than if I had swam back I’m sure! Regardless, nothing could put a dampener on such a wonderful day!
I left Vilankulo at 1.30am the next morning, having had only a few hours sleep. My plan to sleep on the bus back down to Maputo was somewhat hampered by the bus company’s insistence that they play the Mozambican charts in their entirety, accompanied by the ‘so bad, they’re good’ music videos. One thing is for sure, Mozambican’s seem in capable of producing quiet music. Also, I am pretty sure I am now an expert on Mozambique’s musical offerings! Despite this horrific experience (a close contender for the worst bus journey I took, although the trip to Tofo I think just pipped it for discomfort) I made it to Maputo in one piece, even if completely exhausted. After having one last mosquito-riddled night’s sleep I rose early to catch the minibus to Swaziland—overall, despite missing the tranquility and beauty of Vilankulo, I was not sad to leave Mozambique.
Our celebration for Georgie-boy!
A rainbow for the Rainbow Nation
I know it has been months since I updated this, apologies to those that rely on this to know that I am alive and well. I am alive, as you can see. Well? Not so much—I’m currently weathering a pretty horrendous cold, born out of the equally horrendous weather that we have been experiencing. I write this from my bed, cocooned in a sleeping bag with a duvet on top. Norway really need to give back the radiators!
So, of course, there is lots to update you on. I have felt unable to update my b log as despite how enjoyable it always is to write everything up and pick which photos to share, it has felt like a huge task which I’ve had zilch motivation to start. This has mainly been because all I have really seemed to do since I last wrote anything, is read and write- firstly for my thesis, then for exams, and now back t o the thesis. Thank you to Izzy for begging me to write something that she can read to procrastinate at work, and in turn providing me with a welcome distraction from all of the academic writing that I need to do.
I am coming up to my five month anniversary of being here (although still not half way yet!) and Friday spells the end of the first semester for me. It has flown by. As lovely as it is from the aspect of still having not got (properly) homesick (I don’t think missing Waitrose cous cous counts, or does it Iz?!), it suggests that the other half (and a bit) is likely to follow suit—my to-do-list will never be completed at this rate! But, anyway, my point is that I have been enjoying being here immensely. The words of the Stellenbosch song ‘Dis altyd lente, in die oe van die Stellenbosch studente’ (it’s always spring in the eyes of the Stellenbosch students) has rung true, even when work is tough and I’ve wondered why I am here, I usually just have to escape the library and go and bask in the blazing sunshine to be reminded of why I love it here so. That was, until it started to rain last week. it hasn’t really stopped since. I’ve lost count of the number of times in response to my moaning that someone has said, “But you’re British, you should be used to weather like this!” Yes, people really do think it just rains constantly at home (Dad’s brag that he has now spent two Sunday afternoon’s enjoying the sun with a BBQ in the garden obviously dispels this myth!) Yes I am used to horrible weather, particularly having spent a large part of the last f our years of my life in the blustery, often drizzly and dreary haven of St Andrews. But, that was fine. I had hats, scarves, gloves, Hunters, Barbours, blankets, and of course, central heating (which at present, I believe to be the greatest invention ever). Even at home, where putting on the heating is deeply frowned upon (it is almost an SAS-style survival of the fittest to see how long you can last before you cave in and flick the switch), we have fires (your ability to make a fire is another thing my family judges people on-I am usually crap-and none of them believe me when I tell them a bout the amazing fire I got going here). here it is currently colder inside than outside. And my perennially drenched clothes have no chance of drying (w here is an AGA when you need one?- it is much harder to try and warm up with three people huddling around a table-top electric stove)!
On the whole, though, it has been an absolute blast. The end of another week of battling the books in the library has been marked by letting my hair down and dancing to classics, attending yet more wine festivals (occasionally with some cheese to soak up the alcohol) and mountai n hikes (always with an alcoholic reward at the summit!) It has made me really seriously consider whether I do want to try and stay out here or somewhere similar rather than joining the rat-race at home. The climate in particular is a real draw and it still seems that wherever you go there is yet another beautiful view (the one above from the postcard cafe in jonkershoek valley is one of my favourites and only five minutes up the road). But there are of course the obvious limitations to bear in mind- you can’t just nip home whenever you feel like it, for one.
Wine and chocolate paired tasting at Lanzerac
Welcome refreshment at the top of Stellenberg
Some of my favourite activities recently have involved watching the sun set, and if you’re particularly lucky, the moon rise. These have varied from sitting on the beach at Camps Bay, glass in hand, watching the sun gently sink into the ocean, to racing the descending sun to make it to the top of Lions Head in time to see the sun once again meet it’s ocean bed. This was particularly special for me as it was one of the last activities that we did as a group before everyone started going their separate ways- travelling, back to Europe etc. Despite our best planning, including checking the time for sunset, we hadn’t taken into account the Friday afternoon traffic in Cape Town and that despite us being only 5-10 minutes from the starting point for the hike, it took 15-20 minutes to reach it. And even though my asthmatic lungs did their best to delay me, we made it, with a few minutes to spare. It was one of the most invigorating ways to begin a weekend and really made us feel that we had earned our night out. The sunset was beautiful, particularly as from the top you can see all of Cape Town, right round to Camps Bay and beyond as well as, of course, Table Mountain—seeing the change in the sky colour from the brilliant blue from the scorching afternoon to the pink sky enveloping the mountain at sunset was stunning, as was the sight of the lights of the city being switched on. Then to celebrate exams I hiked with a friend up Stellenberg, one of the mountains here in Stellenbosch. Our ascent was once again marked with a very welcome glass of wine, and what we hadn’t realised was that it was a full moon that night, watching the perfect moon rise from behind neighbouring mountains was another fantastic experience.
Sunset at Camps Bay
Sunset from the top of Lions Head
The view of Cape Town lighting up from Lions Head
Scrambling up Stellenberg
And enjoying the view from the top!
The full moon ascends
It now feels like it is the end of the beginning of my life here in South Africa. Many of my friends are returning home. Whilst it is sad saying goodbye, it is also wonderful to have so many brilliant memories of my first few months here, and I hope many more to come. The months ahead look set to be full of hard work but, before knuckling down for them there is another adventure to be had. Next week I am off to Mozambique to hit the beaches for snorkelling and sailing aplenty, escaping for winter sun is a most welcome prospect and is the only thing getting us through the last few days of work. I am so excited to see another part of this wonderful continent that I haven’t explored yet and one that I know will be so different from here. The portuguese colonial architecture, the beautiful Indian ocean and of course the truly African flavour- the markets, buses and street life. I am hoping to take some photos that will truly capture all of this for you all to enjoy. Then before returning, there is a brief stop-off in Swaziland, staying in a national park with a tame ostrich for company (what could actually be any better?) and indulging in some outdoor living before returning to the Western Cape bubble.
The next few weeks are set to be the highlight of my time here so far, and I can’t wait to share it all with you...I won’t leave it so long next time!
Yet again I have been rather remiss in updating everyone—I have now given in to Mum’s weekly nag, passing on messages from people wanting to know what I am up to and I will now enlighten you on my highly, unexciting life. I have found the last week rather tough as I have struggled to adjust to being back from the trip that I took with some friends over the Easter break along the Garden Route. Unfortunately this disengagement and disenchantment with Stellenbosch has come at a rather stressful time, as I was battling to complete my thesis proposal which I submitted yesterday (fingers crossed for some positive feedback!) I have spent a large proportion of the last week lazing around the flat, the afternoons haven’t seen me stray far from my bed. I had to promise our cleaner that I did actually do things with my day and didn’t just occupy my bed all the time, which was the impression she was getting on her daily, afternoon visit. Part of my reasoning for staying in bed was that it would avoid anything bad happening: soon after getting back I broke my glasses, my bike had two flat tyres and I spilt various things on my clothes. Nothing seemed to be going right. Including my academics, with a rather unhelpful supervisor and still complete bafflement at what was expected of me: the two seemed to be reinforcing elements.
So those were my travails. Admittedly not particularly huge in the grand scheme of things. Just frustrating. But part of the reason for all of t his was that I was rather tired from travelling. We spent a week driving along the Garden Route and then back again along Route 62. It was so nice to escape Stellenbosch even for a short time and see what else South Africa had to offer. I wasn’t disappointed by the amazing landscapes on offer: dramatic coastline mixing vertiginous cliffs and broad swathes of white, sandy beaches with spectacular, crashing waves. The weather forecast wasn’t looking too promising when we left but there was actually only one day of bad weather, so I have apparently come back with an even deeper tan (I can’t really see the difference now!) One of the highlights for me was going to Cape Agulhas which is the southernmost point of Africa (not the Cape of Good Hope as we are frequently, erroneously led to believe). It was an achievement in itself just getting there. I had accepted the gauntlet of driving the first stage of the trip and as we were going along happily (and rather speedily) suddenly, with no warning bar a sign suggesting a risk of skidding , the tarmac unceremoniously gave way to gravel track. Now I k now that a bad workman always blames his tools, but I really believe it would have been a more pleasurable experience if we had been in a Land Rover, rather than the Toyota Corolla which had been bestowed on us. But having already survived a rather vicious visit from some baboons earlier that morning, we persevered. And we were rewarded with a spectacular view of the two oceans meeting and for me a real joy at having made it to the furthest point on the African continent. It gave me a real feeling of pilgrimage having been to a place that I have wanted to visit for a number of years and suggested that the trip was well and truly underway. Another jewel of the Garden route is Wilderness, not as barren as the name suggests, it boasts some very impressive homes at even more impressive prices, but still retains a natural beauty and bestows a sense of getting away from it all. Here we stayed up in the hills, well and truly off the beaten track. The track that we battled along to get there, rose to the brow of the hill where you were greeted with an uninterrupted view of the Indian Ocean with nothing else in sight, a really incredible vista. We had a lot of fun canoeing through the Wildnerness National Park along the river through some breathtaking and at times eery scenery with nothing to listen to other than the splashing of our paddles and the chirruping of birds and cicadas (interrupted by the occasional rabble of Stellies students, who were inescapable, as we all seemed to have had pretty much the same idea!) We pulled up our boats and proceeded to walk through the park to a waterfall where we collapsed on the rocks to bask in the heat of the midday sun, a really enjoyable experience.
Jeffrey’s Bay was a place for us to really let our hair down. It is the surf capital of South Africa and is held in high esteem by the world surf circuit, but it doesn’t really have much else to offer. Driving through it you are left with a sense of being somewhere that is really past its best and to be honest, it was rather torrid and unpleasant. From the moment we pulled up where we were staying I didn’t feel particularly safe, something which I can’t say about anywhere else that I have been thus far. I think the town's natural endowment with impressive waves has sustained it and gives it little reason to improve things. It’s not somewhere I will be rushing back to, unless I suddenly discover my inner Kelly Slater (I can’t see it happening anytime soon!)
The Big Tree
But then, at the end of the week was the absolute nadir with a night spent at Addo National Park, home to the largest population of African elephants. When it was created in the 1930s there were just eleven elephants in the park, there are now well over five hundred. I wasn’t sure what to expect before we got there, but decided to limit my expectations and was happy with the memories of safaris in the Serengeti, Ngorogoro Crater, Lake Manyara, Mikumi, Chobe, Etosha, Victoria Falls and the Okavango Delta. I didn’t think anything could top those, I had been lucky enough to see elephants in the wild before. Nothing, however, could prepare me for the sight of a whole herd of elephants lolloping up the road towards us. Bulls, females and best of all babies. It was absolutely magical an d I don’t think it is something I will ever forget. Compared with the confrontations that I had experienced in the East African parks, these elephants were so calm and accepting of the little humans in front of them. Perhaps it was because everyone was much more respectful of them compared with East African safari drivers who rev their engines incessantly trying to trigger a reaction from the elephants—a truly terrifying experience. We were also fortunate in that we had booked to go on a game drive at sunset (only partly enticed by the complementary drinks and snacks). This was so special to see the changing light and the security that it affords to a number of the animals in the park and also the dropping temperature means that lots of animals leave their shady retreat of the daytime. Whilst elephants for their sheer size are impressive, I also loved seeing the small r animals: Kudu, Zebra and of course my absolute favourite—Warthogs! Stopping for drinks and getting off of the vehicle to stand in the middle of the bush with a family of elephants in close proximity was such an amazing moment and one of the highlights of my time here so far.
As well as Warthogs, another animal that I have always found fascinating (since a rather unfortunate encounter with the Queen Mother whilst covered in chocolate—me, not Her Royal Highness—at Smithfield) are Ostriches. Therefore, our final stop at Oudsthoorn, the capital of the Ostrich world provided much entertainment. When you see them up close and personal they are almost prehistoric, more closely resembling dinosaurs than anything else. One of their strangest features is their reverse bend knees and their eyes are nearly as big as their head. This means that t heir brain is about the same size, making them not the most intelligent of species. But in their own strange, wrinkly, feathery way they also have beauty and enormous character as their no less enormous beak comes perilously close to you! An Afrikaner farmer took us to meet his flock which was very entertaining and so interesting to learn the ins and outs of ostrich farming—the economics, challenges and t o learn more about where the meat we were eating comes from. It was no less entertaining for him as he had five girls in the back of his pick-up yelping as each beak poked towards us in a siege situation with a sea of ostriches surrounding us. Such exhilaration could only be followed with a bump down to Earth as the challenges of day-to-day life returned and commitments built up. One week on and I am slowly adjusting to being back. I have taken to going for a walk in the hills above Stellenbosch and looking down on it in its entirety to remind myself how much I love it and why I am here. After all, life can’t just be one long holiday. But I better just start preparing for the next one...
An update at last. partly because it is a while since I last posted, but more because I have ground to a halt with my thesis proposal, which is really challenging my patience. Although I now know what I want to write about, formulating a plan and research questions/hypotheses is not coming easily. Luckily, we are now in the full swing of Easter break so I can try and avoid it for the next week or so. Autumn break (which is what this really is) just doesn’t have the same ring to it as Spring break at home. But from what I have been hearing, we are experiencing weather more akin to spring than the UK!
The majority of my days over the past few weeks have been taken up with research in the library and so I have really had to get to grips with the fierce air conditioning in there. It makes you believe that it is the depths of winter outside and why were you foolish enough to wear shorts, piling on pullover after pullover, only to go out for lunch and nearly expire with the heat that hits you. The weather is certainly beginning to turn though, with rain and wind beginning to feature more heavily. The wind was particularly strong last Monday when we all huddled together to watch the Varsity Cup semi-final between Stellenbosch and NMMU, with Maties just scraping a win of one point- if it wasn’t for the wind I don’t think we would have won. The only good thing about it being so windy was that it meant the last thing we wanted to do was to go out to celebrate, which wouldn’t have been particularly conducive to us studying for our end of term exams.
 Kite surfers off Bikini Beach, Gordon's Bay On Wednesday I had my first exam for Afrikaans, consisting of reading and listening exercises. This was perhaps the most fun an exam has ever been for me with plenty of giggling and it made me realise that I have actually learnt quite a lot (I think!) although I still don’t speak much for fear of being laughed at. We quickly left the exam (bar the slight hold-up resulting from one of the boys having his front wheel stolen while we were writing the test, bike theft seems to be the biggest crime in Stellenbosch at the moment) and indulged in the final Street Soiree of the season- basically a free wine tasting session on one of the streets here. It’s a really nice thing that we have begun to do, not only because of it being a way for us to sample as much wine as possible in a given time period, but also as a big group of us can go out and you will always bump into others that you know. t here was a distinct c elebratory air to the evening as most people had finished their exams, although unfortunately it meant stocks ran dry rather quickly.
 Looking over the rooftops of Langa to Table Mountain in the distance One of the best things that I have done over the last few weeks was a township tour in Langa and Guguletu , just outside of Cape Town. It was a very last minute decision for me to go, but I am so glad that I did! Not only was it nice to see life outside of the Stellenbosch bubble, but it was such an eye opener. Ironically, the day that we went was the Friday of Comic Relief at home (well done to Tom for all of his fundraising success!) and some of the scenes that we observed could easily have been transposed onto your television screen with only the addition of an emotive soundtrack and pained voice over. I wasn’t sure how much I would enjoy the tour as I am n ot a huge fan of doing ‘touristy’ activities and wasn’t sure how much of a ‘true picture’ we would get- but you can't just wonder into the township on your own, so it was the best way to experience it. There were aspects that I wasn’t comfortable with. For instance, 15 of us were sent into a room that a similar number of people sleep in each night. This room was only half the size of my bedroom at home. Th e smell and heat were indescribable and overwhelming. But my discomfort came not from this, but from the fact that I felt the people who live there were being treated as some sort of freak show, to be gawped at whilst you place a pitiful amount of money on a plate on your way out. I understand the thinking behind sending us in there, it certainly made me really think. But I don’t think it was done with the thoughts and feelings of the people who live there in mind t he most. I think it is almost an exercise to give tourists the feeling that they have seen the ‘true Africa’. a number of people who I have met seem almost disappointed that what they are seeing and experiencing is not the Africa of the charity reports they see on TV. Perhaps that is why they jump at the chance to play Angelina Jolie whenever children surround us. We were also treated to a taste of sheep’s head. Probably not a delicacy that I will be indulging in too regularly, but if you try and forget what it is you are eating, it is surprisingly tasty! This culinary experience was thankfully beaten by the meal that we enjoyed at the end of the tour at Mzoli’s in Guguletu where I ate more Braaied meat than I knew possible! What struck me most about the tour was how optimistic it made me about how things can change with the resourcefulness of people. Numerous art, education and sport projects were underway in the townships, both from international aid projects but increasingly from local initiatives. People are not happy with their lot here, but they will do everything in their power to change this. When I spoke to Mike, our guide, he said that he w as unhappy that the transport links into Cape Town were so poor so he wrote to the government and now improved routes are being put into place—I couldn’t ever imagine taking such an initiative at home, for feeling like my voice wouldn’t be heard, or at least wouldn’t be noted. But he made me realise Mum isn’t so wrong when she always says : ‘if you don’t ask, you won’t get.’
The same day that we went to Langa and Gugs we had spent the morning doing our usual volunteering at the school in Kayamandi, our local township. It was not until the end of the session that we were told that a fire had taken place the previous night which had destroyed in the region of 1500 huts, affecting around 4000 people: rendering them homeless and sadly 3 lives had been lost. We were astounded that we had spent over an hour working in the township without knowing this, particularly given that many of the teachers had been up for most of the night trying to account for missing people. I have been impressed at how quickly the University and local community swung into action to organise relief supplies and working parties to begin the re-building process, a number of my friends have volunteered to go and assist with the distribution of food and clothing and others with helping to erect new huts. Initially the figures of those affected may seem huge, as they did to us when we first heard them, but the problem is that in the townships, the huts are constructed so closely together and from materials that are highly flammable. The days before the fire were some of the hottest we had experienced, so only a spark would have been needed for vegetation to catch and for it literally to spread ‘like wild fire’. I was very troubled in the days following the fire, people who have so little to begin with, who work so hard to achieve what they have and in one night it is taken away from them. Because of the informal nature of this part of the settlement, it would be naive to think that they would have the security network afforded by an insurance scheme. It all just seemed totally unfair, but the rallying together of the community of the township has been inspiring to witness.
 Our class with the sun's they made To mark the end of the first term (I have now been away for over 10 weeks!) I am going with four friends along the Garden Route from here to Port Elizabeth. As with any holiday at home, the weather is looking far from wonderful, but it will still be so nice to expand my horizons beyond Stellenbosch before I begin to climb the walls. We are staying most nights next to the Indian Ocean and I am really looking forward to indulging in some water-based activities as well as taking a trip to Addo National Park which is home to many of South Africa’s elephants, we will hopefully see some more penguins along the way and dolphins in Plettenburg Bay , before spending our last night in the “Ostrich capital of the world” — Ou dtshoorn, I’m not sure if I’m brave enough to ride one though!!
Geseende Paasfees!
 Saying goodbye in Langa  A beautiful end to the day at Cool Bay with Cape Point on the horizon
When you’re having fun. I guess I must be having fun as it is two months to the day since I arrived on the Western Cape and my feet have barely touched the ground since. I don’t know where the time has gone, one minute I was strolling around Cape Town, very much as a tourist; the next I was on orientation here in stellies; and as I sit here now I have completed my first module and today embarked on the research for my thesis (which will occupy many months to come!)
I’ve been having a lot of fun too. The weekend before last was spent in Cape Town at the Holi One Colour Festival- an event where you spend 10 hours throwing different coloured powder at each other (I am just about clean, which is more than can be said for my dress!) followed by a Sunday spent recovering by strolling around Cape Town, chilling at the Waterfront before partying again at the Goldfish sunset concert at Kirstenbosch gardens- definitely one of the highlights of my time here so far. I know that they played a successful set in St Andrews a few weeks before, but nothing can compare to having Table Mountain as the backdrop as the sun creeps down behind it, into the ocean. The weekend was nearly ruined, however, when I was confronted by two men asking for money just as we approached our backpackers. I said that I had nothing and buzzed for the security gate to be opened. But just as I raised my arm to open it, one of them took my purse out of my bag, which foolishly I had unzipped. Fortunately, my friend saw it and told him to give it back, but it certainly threw me and made me realise that I needed to be less laissez-faire about crime here. Although in Stellies we may blend in, people automatically assume that you are tourists in Cape Town and therefore prey on you. I lost count of how many people demanded money from me over the weekend.
Before the fight
And after! (sorry Amelie)
I have also, finally, met a fellow Brit (we think there are only the two of us!) and together we represented the UK at the International Food Evening held here last Thursday. We had to cater for 150 people (which we didn’t realise when we signed up for it) and decided on a ‘Strawberries and Cream Afternoon Tea’ theme, consisting of: scones, Eton mess, vanilla strawberry shortcakes, tea and Pimm’s. I am pleased to report that although we didn’t win, we have well and truly converted the Stellies crowd to drinking Pimm’s on a scorching day (which basically is still every day)- I write this whilst mopping my brow! Amazingly, we didn’t have to call on Mary Berry and Paul Hollywood to bail us out, in fact it was surprisingly easy to bake for that number of people, albeit rather time consuming, so I won’t be hurrying to enter again. Unfortunately, we were beaten by the French (whose team I originally was going to join, sorry Dad), but it is probably the only competition that they are going to win this year! A personal triumph, however, was recreating - in typical Blue Peter- style- the balcony scene from the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee (I even managed to squeeze Philip in). Next semester though I will definitely just go along for the tasting as there was some really interesting food on offer, especially from the African competitors.
I am still volunteering at the school in the local township, Kayamandi. I really enjoy it, although it is sometimes a bit frustrating not being able to fully communicate with the children. Saying that, it is also amazing just how much you are able to communicate through mime and play. This week we are due to teach them shapes and colours, so we are going to be throwing ourselves back into our childhoods with ‘I can sing a rainbow.’ This evening I am going to the township to watch a show called ‘Amazink’, which is dance and music put on by the people who live there. There is also the opportunity to sample some traditional South African food in the township restaurant which I am particularly looking forward to, I may even have some recipes for my next blog post (fingers crossed).
As these first two months have flown by, it has made me realise that if things continue at this pace my time will be drawing to a close before I know it. A bit of a contrast from those days of nerves and fear just before I left, where I was worried that 11 months would drag and I wouldn’t know what to do with myself! I am beginning to get itchy feet for travelling, with Mozambique (hopefully for my birthday) and Mauritius (perhaps wishful thinking, but Dad, fancy calling in that offer?!) top of my list- for the moment I think I may have to console myself with the Garden Route- although I don’t think this can really be seen as a rotten consolation prize!!
Until next time, Totsiens!
I have been very tardy in blogging and this is my first one from Stellenbosch, despite having been here for over a month— I must and will try harder. I therefore apologise that this is likely to be rather a long entry!
After a wonderful time in CT it was time to get down to the nitty-gritty and move on up to my new home in Stellenbosch. Not that I had a home when we arrived, so that was the first task. Arriving here mid-afternoon on a Sunday I thought that I had made a terrible mistake. Tumbleweed rolled through the streets. And I silently cursed my decision to come here. It was like arriving in a wild West town in a movie. Th e only sign of life were the parking attendants and the waiters in the few restaurants that were open. Sunday, it is fair to say, is truly the day of rest here, at least after 2pm. Refreshing as this may seem, arriving before the majority of students returned for the new year left me feeling like I had moved to the most miserable place imaginable. 24 hours later I was beginning to think I was wrong and 24 days later I couldn’t have been further from the truth. Stellies, as the students and locals alike call it, is a hub of vibrancy: perhaps best depicted in this picture of these local minstrels who play their catchy self-penned song “Welcome to Stellenbosch, put on your dancing shoes”, everyday to whoever will listen, and many who won’t!
There is much to love about Stellenbosch. It has some very beautiful architecture, which arriving during a balmy summer, is displayed in the best possible light. The Cape Dutch architecture of Dorp Street and the buildings and churches around the Braak (the town green) give a feeling of going back in time, to an idyllic, quaint past. There are parts, however, which are not so quaint. Stellenbosch is undoubtedly a place of contrasts, vast contrasts. There is a huge discrepancy between the wealth of the (mainly) white South Africans and their (mainly) black counterparts. The huge differences in Stellenbosch are particularly pronounced. In class the other day one of my fellow students said to us Europeans: “You have to realise that Stellenbosch is a bubble in the Western Cape and the Western Cape is a bubble in South Africa.” In this simple sentence she summed up exactly how I was feeling.
 The most architecturally beautiful Drankwinkel I've ever seen I am living a pretty comfortable life here. I have access to an endless supply of the most deliciously fresh food, especially fruit, vegetables and cheese. Good wine and gin are never in short supply. I can easily enjoy the beauties of the South African land either on my bike or driving down to Cape Town. There are few things I haven’t been able to buy if I’ve needed to (apart from pen cartridges!).
I also lead a very uncomfortable life here. Unlike some of the (mainly white) South Africans, I do not live in a bubble behind my electric gates and security guards. I venture beyond the gates in an attempt to get down to the nitty and incredibly gritty of what life is really like in this complex, troubled and far from peaceful nation. Breaking free from the compound in which I live, it is hard not to feel disillusioned with Mandela’s “Rainbow Nation”. Whilst Stellies is awash with Toyota Land Cruiser’s and Hilux’s, broad plain tree-lined boulevards, restaurants boasting some of the best food on the Western Cape, if not in South Africa, beautiful homesteads with immaculately tended and irrigated lawns, on the slopes above it a different story is playing out. I have now volunteered twice at a primary school in the Kayamandi township- home to 40,000 people in what are largely makeshift corrugated iron huts (not dissimilar to those that are captured in a Comic Relief film). Here, you encounter what many would see as the ‘real Africa’. This is a place ravaged by poverty in comparison to the affluence of Stellebosch-proper. The contrast is perhaps best summed up by the ironic scene I observed on Friday , of a Mercedes dealership only a few hundred yards from where you enter into Kayamandi. This sums up the difference between Kayamandi and Stellenbosch. Yet, Kayamandi is no more ‘real’ than Stellenbosch. Both are the ‘real Africa’ of South Africa. This is a country of great contrasts and multiple identities which is still struggling, over two decades on from the end of apartheid, to unite as one, harmonious, rainbow nation.
 Just a small portion of Kayamandi township on the hillside above Stellenbosch  Ikaya where I spend one morning a week with the reception class  A not particularly accurate depiction of Stellenbosch's inequalities used on promotional material to welcome visitors- Kayamnadi doesn't even feature! I am now a few weeks into my course (and am still to meet another Brit!) and this semester I am focusing on Foreign Policy Analysis. The dry theory is now over and we are learning about South Africa’s foreign policy; yet to understand this we have also had to focus on the numerous domestic issues. I have found it hugely beneficial having so many South Africans and a Namibian in my class, as it gives a true, no-holds-barred insight into life here. Sometimes it does not make for particularly pleasant listening. I am also hoping in the next few weeks to get underway on my thesis, once I have really adjusted to being back in academia! As well as my classes and the volunteer teaching programme, I have also got a job as a Research Assistant. Th is is for the ‘Worlds of Journalism Study’ which enquires into journalistic standards and ethics across the world, with our focus being on South Africa. it is very much at the planning stages, but I am really hoping that this is going to be an interesting and beneficial project to be involved with, giving a real insight into journalism and politics here. Already it is very apparent just how differently things operate here.
It is not all work here though. One of the first events we went to was the Wine Festival here (one of many scheduled for the year) which was a great opportunity to get to know the local vineyards and taste some local cheese , all for a very student-friendly price. One of the highlights in terms of events so far has been the Simonsberg Met which was organised by one of the boys res’. A friend told me to buy a ticket to the ‘fake horse race’. I was imagining it would be a race night as we have in the UK where you watch footage and place a bet, so I was rather put out by the smart dress code. It, however, turned out to be an even more ridiculous reality. t he fresher boys ran around a race track with a mop between their legs with a cardboard horses head attached- a D.I.Y. hobby horse! This is the longest running social event in the University calendar and had a VIP area full of alumni who spent the evening throwing bales onto the track to turn it into a steeplechase—an enormously fun evening , which Lord March should consider to revitalise Goodwood! Also, the Varsity Cup has sucked me into the true South African religion of rugby. This is one of the biggest events in the South African sporting calendar and enthralls even the most vague rugby supporter (i.e. me!) I have turned into an impassioned supporter of Maties and having learnt the words in my Afrikaans class, was belting out the University song. Indeed, when I messaged my friend Paul in Cape Town to wish UCT luck in their tie against UJ (University of Johannesburg) I was chuffed to get a response from him saying: “you’re a proper Matie now!” I no longer feel like a visitor, I feel like I belong here, as the page in my passport bears testament to.
 All the fun of the Simonsberg Met  Here we go Maties: with one of my flat mates, Molly Until next time, Totsiens!
P.s. I have had to assume a new Afrikaans identity as apparently you have to become Afrikaans to learn Afrikaans—my naam is Petra Pieterse, ek kom van Pofadder af. Pofadder is noord van Kaapstad, naby Namibia.
The first port of call for my move was Cape Town which is by far the best place to acclimatise to life here. Undoubtedly acclimatisation was needed, given that we left London in minus five and arrived here to a rather warm 38. The wave of heat that engulfed us as we got out of the air-conditioned cab was truly stifling.
I think any city would look good in blazing sunshine, but Cape Town is truly beautiful : the mix of old and new; man-mad e and natural ; African and cosmopolitan. staying in the perfect location of Tamberskloof (less than a five minute drive to Table Mountain) meant that to get to the CBD and Victoria and Alfred Waterfront we had to walk through the city. Against the odds, we made the rather long walk despite less than an hour’s sleep thanks to the lovely little children on the plane.
Having been to Cape Town before, I was familiar with the main sights, but the time afforded to us meant that we were really able to take everything in and return numerous times to places we really liked. By walking through the city you really get to experience the multiple identities of South Africa’s mother city. Nestled between the majesty of Table Mountain (often shrouded in the ‘Table Cloth’ created by the clouds that envelop it) and the grand sweep of Table Bay is an eclectic mix of the Cape Dutch architecture of the grand buildings built by the Dutch settlers in the seventeenth century such as the Slave Lodge (where we were, by chance, given a first-hand account of the terror campaign of the Apartheid government and the clearance of settlements) and the Castle of Good Hope, the beautifully exotic Company’s Gardens which were originally the vegetable patches for the V.O.C, the modern skyscrapers of the CBD, the multicoloured buildings that are home to the Cape Malay population of the Bo-Kaap, eventually reaching the restored docks of the V&A Waterfront, now a popular shopping and restaurant complex.
Spreading our wings further we spent a morning at Kirstenbosch walking around the botanical gardens. Even being there in the height of summer, when the plants are past their best in terms of flowering, it was still a kaleidoscope of colour, smells and noises, all against the grand backdrop of Table Mountain. A rather blustery bus ride (the wind masking quite how strong the sun was- to the detriment of my back!) took us to Hout Bay, which seems to be constantly under attack from sandstorms- probably the most exciting thing going on here, on the whole rather run-down apart from playing host to multiple fishing and seal-watching boats. Returning to Cape Town via the Atlantic seaboard, you get to see a rather more exclusive side to the Cape. The most exclusive in fact. The resorts of Llandudno, Camps Bay, Clifton and Bantry Bay are home to the creme de la creme: a place to be seen , south africa's answer to cannes and st tropez (we stayed firmly on the bus). The beaches, whilst stunning, again suffer the peril of winds, bordering on gales, where battling sand is a never-ending task. Interestingly, as the currently is at present coming from Antarctica, the sea temperature is significantly cooler than it will be during the winter months.
For my Fairy Godmother Annie K: I found some friends in the gardens.
Having got to grips with the geography and gaining more confidence, I was entrusted to start driving with a nice introductory trip (via the baffling and terrifying robots at the bottom of kloof street) down the Cape peninsula to Cape Point and the Cape of Good Hope via a pleasant stop at the colourful beach huts at Muizenberg and to visit the penguins at Boulders Beach. I hear the penguins have since been stars of David Attenborough’ s Africa. They are undeniably mesmerising to watch as they waddle across the sands and occasionally pluck up the courage to hit the surf, usually rather unsuccessfully, much to the gathered crowd’s entertainment. From Simon’s Town begins the long and (very) winding road to Cape Point. Dad’s vertigo really came into play here, as at times the road is very much cliff-side. Indeed, it was hair-raising (sorry, Dad!) and not the place to be meeting numerous tourist buses. Once inside the park gates the bush and scrub bears an uncanny resemblance to scotland, with a mass of heather and lots of koptje's (rocky outcrops)- much to Dad’s delight. His vertigo paralysed him again once we got to the tip, where a climb up to the lighthouse that provides the summit to Cape Point proved too much , although I was rather impressed that I convinced him to pose rather near the cliff edge (and having to put up with some rather excessive Japanese photographers). The Cape of Good Hope was much more achievable given that it is at the shore line and only involved stomaching a South Korean camera man (possibly the biggest feat of endurance of the day). Dad’s bravery was rewarded by meeting some Baboons on the drive back (his only wish for the day). It was now time for some more vertiginous action in the form of driving Chapman’s Peak which affords amazing views across to Hout Bay and is classed as one of the most dangerous, yet spectacular roads to drive in the world. Sadly the reward of stopping at the luxurious Chapman’s Peak Hotel wasn’t possible due to road works, making the whole exercise fruitless in Dad’s eyes.
The crowning glory for our time in Cape Town was a trip up Table Mountain (for me) and a beer at the Waterfront (for Dad). Although not a new experience for me (although i am still to climb it on foot), it was certainly a lot clearer than my last ascent, although the billowing gales meant that the Table Cloth quickly swept in and had completely claimed the upper station by the time I left. The view from the top, whilst pictured in numerous guide books, is amazing to experience in person. You can see the whole city in perspective- good bits and bad, the panorama stretching from the Atlantic seaboard resorts, via the World Cup stadium at Green Point, the Waterfront, CBD and across to the Cape Flats and the wastelands left by the clearance of the District Six area during Apartheid- one of the most catastrophic actions by the Apartheid regime, an issue which is, sadly, yet to be resolved.
After an action packed few days, where Dad didn’t lose either his wallet or passport (sorry to anyone who had bets on that one!) it was time to set off to Stellenbosch for the big move.
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