tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41114230734610801152024-03-05T01:43:20.129-08:00Who Cares?Doff Ewa Travelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524535080975940977noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111423073461080115.post-91783735543483679242011-01-14T02:11:00.000-08:002011-01-14T02:11:22.777-08:00THEY DON'T MAKE WIVES LIKE THEY USED TO<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Blog 13</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">They just don’t make wives like they used to. Wives used to pullback the covers before one retired. Some really well trained wives would remember to bring ones slippers when you removed your brogues after a long and tiring day at the office. They wouldn’t be at you about what a hard day they had had with the kids just when you settled back in your chair with a whiskey. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then in the morning they would pull up the covers even though the maid was coming in later. Now had my wife done as she used to do before she turned sixty, I wouldn’t have left my little bag containing my camera, wallet, driving licence credit cards etc on my bed, as I would have seen it when I went back to check we had not left anything behind. It would have been on top of the covers not hidden out of sight. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know the Casa Lisa generator left us in the dark when we got up at three in the morning to escape the <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Maputo</city></place> traffic as we headed South, but I don’t think that is any excuse for not pulling up the covers. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Had Ewa pulled up the covers I would have been in a position to show my drivers licence to the policeman. When I told him that I did not have it on me because my wife didn’t pull up the covers, he wasn’t that impressed, but I think understood my situation and let me pass unhindered. Maybe he had an old style wife?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Actually thinking about it maybe Africans do have old style wives who do their job properly, as the next policeman manning the road block after Komatipoort customs, on the South African side also felt sorry for me when I told him my story. We just discussed a couple of places where he could spend his Easter holidays in <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Mozambique</place></country-region> then we bade each other fairwell. Very understanding these cops.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Just to go back a bit, with the help of Abdul we finally got the Kombi going by 3.30 pm on Wednesday the 5<sup>th</sup>. What an amazing individual Abdul turned out to be, as well as being a top class mechanic. In a way it was worthwhile breaking down in <place w:st="on">Pemba</place>, as we really got to know our way around the place and met and made some really wonderful friends. So often we rush in and out of really interesting places and miss the roses. Abdul must have spent three days of time running all around getting parts machined, then assembling and replacing the cylinder head. When I asked him how much I owed him, he turned to me and said “Nothing, I have enjoyed meeting you and have made a great friend!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He really cared about us, and at 6 in the evening sent an SMS asking where we had got to and if we were OK. What a bloke. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Other great things came our way. We got to know Brenda and Rudi (the owners of Pemba Dive and Bush Camp) pretty well. We got to know their offspring Kai and Bianca, although I have a feeling Alex got to know Bianca a little better than we did! We were upgraded to the honeymoon suite for two free nights. We were invited to a prawn dinner to celebrate Bianca’s birthday and Ewa certainly enjoyed the chocolate birthday cake! All in all we made great friends and were sad to wave them goodbye. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The drive home was 4400 kms and we had three and a bit days to drive it if we wanted to see JoJo before she flew back to the <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">UK</place></country-region>. We made it and the Kombi didn’t miss a beat, but what a trip. It was a great help knowing what to expect on the way home, as we had a pretty good idea of road conditions and where we were going to sleep in the evening, but which ever way you cut it, it is a long drive. I sort of broke the trip up into bite size chunks 200 kms at a time, then I would say to myself that it will only take two hours to cover the 200 kms, therefore we will arrive at such and such a place by six, then hope that the clock or my calculation were wrong so that we would in fact arrive at five! We always arrived at six! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We left <place w:st="on">Pemba</place> at 3.30 on the afternoon of 5<sup>th</sup> Jan and drove for 5 hours to Mantes Nairuco, Manuels place outside Nampula. It is rainy season and you watch these amazing cumulus clouds build up for the afternoon deluge, which is really dramatic with claps of thunder and lightning all over the place. We were really lucky as we continuously seemed to just clip the edge of the storm, so we managed to maintain our 98km/hour average speed. If you do happen to drive through one of these storms you really have to slow down a) because you can only see about 10m in front of you and b) you can’t see the potholes as they fill up with water! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Our destination for day two was Inchope, which is about 1200kms Nampula.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A five o’clock start was a tad later than I wanted to leave, but that was first light and I had to perform my morning ritual of checking the oil, tyre pressure and water level in the radiator. As we were the only campers at the place, we slept on the floor of the Ladies changing room, as this meant we did not have to rearrange the Kombi to its sleeping mode, so we could get a quick and early start. The place is really clean, with great showers, clean toilets, electric lights and no ants! The cockroaches, mozzies, spiders and other flying insects were no match for Super Doom; they were soon lying on their backs giving a last twitch as they were swept out of the door. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I can’t say that sleeping in a room of recently sprayed Doom is a very healthy option, but there we go, the options at that time of night were somewhat few. As in so many conflicts between man and nature, the end result is not that satisfactory! If you turn on the light, all manner of flying, crawling things come out of the woodwork and form a mist around the light bulb as they try to commit Hara-Kiri. So you don’t turn on the light until the door is closed, the towels have been placed to close the gap under the door and the windows or screens are closed. Only then can you turn on the light and dispense the Doom as required. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I must say I don’t like to see them twitching, so I stamp on the bigger bugs, as I think that is a little more humane than twitching to death. But then I don’t like to hear that crunching sound as the humane blow is delivered. Why are bugs’ guts yellow?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">On the whole the roads were not as bad as I had expected, except for a 30km stretch outside Macuba. Quite unbelievable! There you are going along at a reasonable pace on a first world road. The games being played in my head are right on the button, 98kms average speed, spot on Nampula by 5pm. Then out of the blue you hit a “hasbeenroad” . Plain dirt roads are predictable and can be tolerated, but hasbeenroads are virtually impassable as the once asphalt surface makes way for a cavity that would almost swallow a Kombi. If you were Martian and took a birds eye view of the road, you would be completely mystified by the goings on of the Earthlings below, as their movements become completely random in a desperate attempt to avoid destruction. Our average speed dropped to 15km/hour. It is hard to fathom why this particular 30kms failed to gain the attentions of Government, as either side of it is a perfect road? It did however create a financial opportunity for the local youth, who instead of going to school or tilling the fields, would spot the approaching vehicle moving spasmodically forward in random motion, then spring out of the bush with spade in hand and with much gusto and fanfare, fill in a pothole with dirt, drop the spade and put their hands out for money! Maybe there were Aid Workers or wannabee good samaritans who did in fact give to these kids, and this was the reason for the road condition. Dug up by kids? Don’t laugh it could be true!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The road goes through some spectacular wooded countryside which no doubt will be open veld in the not too distant future as you witness these massive trees being carted out by trucks emblazed with Chinese writing. It is gut wrenching to see.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We would have liked to visit the Gorangosa Reserve as we drove right past it, but unfortunately we did not have the time to do so. The Gorangosa Reserve was the headquarters of Renamo during the war, which practically saw the demise of all game. However the books tell you that the game is returning. I have my doubts if it will ever get back to its former glory. Starvation will see to that. As you drive down the road<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>you see all sort of Vendors selling their trophies, which include dead monkeys, duiker, rabbits, live upside down chickens and hunks of “I know not what” meat. Maybe by not visiting the reserve we were spared further heartache. We will never know.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The guide books are not very complimentary about Inchope which lies at the intersection of the East / West between <city w:st="on">Beira</city> and <country-region w:st="on">Zimbabwe</country-region> and the North / <place w:st="on">South EN1</place>. It is really a large truck stop. On the way up we went West towards <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Zimbabwe</place></country-region> before going North through Tete, and saw very little opportunity for camping or any other accommodation. So it was with great relief when we came upon what at one time must have been an amazing holiday resort with two large swimming pools with cascading fountains, camp sites, all manner of chalets and rooms, a restaurant, dress shop, discotheque and pool bar. The time was 5.30pm. Inchope was 27kms down the road and we knew there was only bush for the next 93 kms on the other side of Inchope, where it was our intention to bush camp.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So in we drove. The rooms were clean and there was an aircon. A walk around the place reflected every other locally owned establishment. The frog population in the pools were flourishing, waterfalls without water, shop with no goods. We ordered chicken and chips which eventually arrived, but the beer was cold and the sheets were clean. We weren’t even bothered by the toilet not flushing or the shower not draining. The price was expensive, but I am sure the space was normally sold by the hour. We put our head on the pillows and slept for 6 hours, leaving at 4.00 am being careful to not wake up the car-guard on the way out. The poor lad must have been tired. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Our next destination point was Casa Lisa Camp Site 50 kms outside <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Maputo</place></city>. It is a drive of about 1000 kms., the problem is that after about 200kms you get towards the coast at Vilankulos and the highway robbers increase. These robbers are not like the Shiftas of Northern Kenya, they wear police uniforms caps and AK47’s. They put roadblocks across the road and stop any vehicle with a foreign number plate. They ask you how you are, then proceed to take money from you. Our only saving grace was that the Kombi looked terribly dirty and shabby and it was driven by two doddering old people who were lost and needed directions to the next town. Bastards. As long as countries are subjected to the governance of the likes of these people, they will go no where. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We had stayed at Casa Lisa on the way up. It is not run by Mozambiqueans, it works. How sad is that. After over two months in <country-region w:st="on">Malawi</country-region> and <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Mozambique</place></country-region> we came across only one establishment run by the locals which had any semblance of good management or basic cleanliness.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">On arrival at Casa Lisa, who should arrive at the same time? The Great Trek from <place w:st="on">Pemba</place>. It was great to see them and hugs all around. “Luister Oom” says Piet, “We have a chalet for you, my broth-in-law was meant to come with us and booked and paid for a chalet, so please use it, it is much more comfortable than camping”!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We had a great meal and slept like a log until 3.00am. That’s when my wife forgot to pull up the covers!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The Great Trekkers and us all left at the same time. They went ahead and soon disappeared over the horizon. It is hard to describe the road through <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Maputo</place></city>, you have a 50% chance of not having an accident. The Chinese are apparently upgrading the Road ahead of the African Games. It is almost impossible to see what is road and what is not. There are no lights and what vehicles there were at that time of the morning have no lights. It was small wonder that the Police Casper-like vehicle had a head-on collision with an old BMW that they were trying to extricate from under them. We drove around the shambles, and it was with great relief that we emerged unscathed on the other side where we turned right and headed on a proper road towards the South African border. That was more than I can say for the Great Trek. They were seen coming by the Highway Robbers who, being a Saturday morning at 3am needed beer money, which was not going to be forthcoming from the driver of the taxi with 32 people hanging on the outside. Much easier to take R1000 off the South Africans who had three girls sleeping flat on the back seat, not wearing safety belts.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">It was a great relief to get into <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">South Africa</place></country-region>. The stark contrast of agricultural shambles on one side of the border and the vast organised banana plantations on the SA side, bear testimony to the benefits of structure and planning. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We made <state w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Hanover</place></state> by 6.30. <state w:st="on">Hanover</state> is exactly half way between <city w:st="on">Cape Town</city> and <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Johannesburg</place></city>. I have never been their before, so I said to Ewa if it is half decent we are stopping as we would then only have 700km to drive in the morning. Well we were blown away by <street w:st="on"><address w:st="on">Karroo Madness No.3 Darling Street</address></street>. It would appear that the Gay community have moved into a lot of these little Karroo towns and turned dusty villages into B&B delights. It was a really quaint place. We had two Pizza which were so large we were eating them for the next two days. The Dutch Reformed Church was all lit up and was quite magnificent We parked under a shady tree outside the restaurant and slept soundly until 3am, when we hit the road for the last haul home.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The <place w:st="on">Karroo</place> was looking magnificent after all the rains. A proper Boere breakfast at Laingsburg hotel really hit the spot. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">It is a beautiful drive down through the <place w:st="on"><placename w:st="on">Hex</placename> <placetype w:st="on">River</placetype></place> valley, but I was absolutely shocked by the size of the squatter township outside DeDoorns. DeDoorns for Pete’s sake. It highlighted exactly my fears. How can the South African tax base support all these immigrants flooding in from North of us? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We made it into <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Cape Town</place></city> at 1pm, 12500kms of driving. What a trip.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">A quick overview? Should we be employing foreigners, are we not propagating trouble? We are sitting on a knife edge.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">About wives that are not like they used to be! Ewa washed my other pair of shorts and T shirt not very well, but that was not the problem, she didn’t iron them. Now if you don’t iron your clothes after being in the countries North of us, something hides in your clothes and lays eggs on you while you are not looking and it itches. I will have to do my own ironing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Arial;">Poor Doff !!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">I was thinking of placing an add in the paper as follows: </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Wife required. Must be able to push a Kombi, do ironing and washing, cook, speak many languages, ride a motorbike, have sence of humour, non smoker, pay her own way.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Do you think I will get any replies?</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Actually I don't know why I bother, I have such a wife! South America here we come. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div>Doff Ewa Travelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524535080975940977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111423073461080115.post-60808417904767706862010-12-31T05:18:00.000-08:002010-12-31T05:18:51.801-08:00Happy New Year Blog 12<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixi8etro0543UfSgPeoLxOKMHuvpwiXZDt8EIpsLYdOr7pt-UAb6iDvv-VK898DfFFOwn9hqyEVW3TppYjtEQAna4ELOAuGMYvVbJPVuDdeM8MSy7chydkI6-oIs2ETYaL9qpfd0fdDeQ/s1600/Pemba+Fire+circles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixi8etro0543UfSgPeoLxOKMHuvpwiXZDt8EIpsLYdOr7pt-UAb6iDvv-VK898DfFFOwn9hqyEVW3TppYjtEQAna4ELOAuGMYvVbJPVuDdeM8MSy7chydkI6-oIs2ETYaL9qpfd0fdDeQ/s320/Pemba+Fire+circles.jpg" width="320" /></a>Fire Circles</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOp_A-dsASVVJhYAcnz-e0bcnP3p13AvYdjMEqPVQnaoOKIRYYM5lm6K3ozqzZeseFlDIeIb9UIP6X8Buxujg-iN5sqOJgNZHqYKXYX0-3sXxzKRoBWTqt4A0qdf3_kyseXNDJMdsXZ60/s1600/Pemba+sunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOp_A-dsASVVJhYAcnz-e0bcnP3p13AvYdjMEqPVQnaoOKIRYYM5lm6K3ozqzZeseFlDIeIb9UIP6X8Buxujg-iN5sqOJgNZHqYKXYX0-3sXxzKRoBWTqt4A0qdf3_kyseXNDJMdsXZ60/s320/Pemba+sunset.jpg" width="320" /></a>Bush Camp Sunset</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOHqFnytm5ARUJ_wqLGVpK1jC0VV2ePVNu6zVXiWTpTlb2jkuGXRbnrzTJtaj1zyujUf9KMpsjrtoiETVyMtWCR4CKUklmslN_EjMVbfxGTIhsjoQN3zNdXxk40U_IkaGR02_o8x8Whn4/s1600/Pemba+4+024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOHqFnytm5ARUJ_wqLGVpK1jC0VV2ePVNu6zVXiWTpTlb2jkuGXRbnrzTJtaj1zyujUf9KMpsjrtoiETVyMtWCR4CKUklmslN_EjMVbfxGTIhsjoQN3zNdXxk40U_IkaGR02_o8x8Whn4/s320/Pemba+4+024.jpg" width="240" /></a>Water color portrait</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMYWVciZGYEYmNL0DOxR4tLVDxs6AR0ApwAFtAW5rPUdVyCut7W0zs5gtldfBOBgPk_o4KxjQq_6mS-i8VrwaZx3iQp2XDlgdVMHUAO2fGLRiPxdzX2SRgyhx1EpmnYP01jdqjgD0ORZU/s1600/Pemba+Acrylic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMYWVciZGYEYmNL0DOxR4tLVDxs6AR0ApwAFtAW5rPUdVyCut7W0zs5gtldfBOBgPk_o4KxjQq_6mS-i8VrwaZx3iQp2XDlgdVMHUAO2fGLRiPxdzX2SRgyhx1EpmnYP01jdqjgD0ORZU/s320/Pemba+Acrylic.jpg" width="320" /></a>First Acrylic</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjywQDC1QFi-e9CcH9hXG-JDLzttPFNEOBnZg8B-Nl33gZQv2y4tcYWyYp2mni3RUyJKwYhQih0g3CHpjkoDBg4i64XrPZFn3Y0-N9LnYalzqw_L3XXBhyphenhyphenZjJRvyPgjcnSMNvAog2gzOuw/s1600/Pemba+Bush+Camp+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjywQDC1QFi-e9CcH9hXG-JDLzttPFNEOBnZg8B-Nl33gZQv2y4tcYWyYp2mni3RUyJKwYhQih0g3CHpjkoDBg4i64XrPZFn3Y0-N9LnYalzqw_L3XXBhyphenhyphenZjJRvyPgjcnSMNvAog2gzOuw/s320/Pemba+Bush+Camp+2.jpg" width="320" /></a>Bush Camp</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Happy New Year </span>Blog 12</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">There is no point in stressing about things you can’t change. We should have left on the 29<sup>th</sup>, but will now be lucky to get away by the 5<sup>th</sup> January 2011. The parts for the Kombi that should have arrived, were delayed because of customs in SA. Finally after vacant stares from the DHL office and with no small amount of assistance from Piet Marais, who occupies one leg of the laager he, his brother and “swaar” erected next to us at the Bush Camp, were traced to the Airlink office where they have been sitting for two days! One would imagine that if you formed part of the world wide transport link of a delivery chain and a parcel arrived marked DHL and adorned with every conceivable URGENT sticker you can imagine, perhaps you consider it an opportune time to stop talking on your cell phone for just a moment, so that you could walk into the adjoining office of DHL and inform them of the arrival of an URGENT parcel!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You would have further thought that, having now miraculously traced the said parcel, and further advised the cell phone operator, that the contents of the said parcel was urgently required to enable two OAP’s to return to Cape Town in order to meet their soon departing daughter, it would be possible to take possession of said goods. Wrong again!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Customs need to clear said parcel and customs don’t work today, being a Thursday! “Can you not see that I am talking on my cell phone?” she says.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Having traced a customs officer at the harbour, I am told to return to the airport where I will be met by another official who will take a R100 bribe and give me the said parcel. Having received that parcel and delivered it to the mechanic, I am further informed that the machine shop has just closed, the boss has departed for a long weekend, but “I promise that your car will be ready on the 4<sup>th</sup>….latest the 5<sup>th</sup>!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">No stress. If we travel all day and all night we should be able to blow kisses to JoJo through the security glass of the now FIFA approved Oliver Tambo airport. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Africa</span></place><span style="font-family: Arial;">, take a chill pill and enjoy the ride! So it is New year at the Pemba Dive Bush Camp with the boys. I could think of worse situations! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">As I have said previously, it takes stressful situations to find the good in people, people “who care”! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Piet Marais and his wife Sonje, brother Jan and his wife Bella-Marie and their “Swaar” <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Casper</city></place> and this wife (Piet and Jan’s sister) Adell and daughters Tokkie, Deleen and Sassie, erected what can only be described as a “Laager”.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">These are big people. <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Casper</place></city> who is a Bees en Skaap Boer and diamond prospector from Bloemhof, weighs in at 145kg. Piet and Jan who between them see to the rubbish removal, verge and grass trimming of Polakwane; (<place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Pretoria</city></place>) Shoprite / Checkers central distribution warehouse and Toyota Assembly Plant, tip the scales at 130kg and 125kg respectively.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The Laager is contained in three Hannibal Conqueror all terrain trailers, transported by thee 3 litre <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Toyota</place></city> 4*4’s of various descriptions. Each vehicle has a modified front fender with built in winch and deflector plates, which appear to have got their styling the from the Army Caspers, which were such a common sight in the mine fields and townships of the Apartheid era.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The sheer size of these wonderful people is intimidating. They are not the sort of people who you would approach with an offer of cash for their eldest daughter, they don’t find that sort of remark funny as a local lad on <place w:st="on"><placename w:st="on">Ibo</placename> <placetype w:st="on">Island</placetype></place> found out!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I don’t think I have ever seen such an encampment. They have every conceivable gadget imaginable. The somewhat erratic supply of the Mozambique Electrical Commission is of absolutely no significance to <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Casper</place></city> and family. A mere flick of a switch has their aircon fans turning in a heartbeat. Why sweat if you don’t have to?!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I really had to laugh when I asked <city w:st="on">Casper</city> if they had been to <place w:st="on"><placename w:st="on">Sodwana</placename> <placetype w:st="on">Bay</placetype></place>? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">“Ja Oom, maar daar is te veel mense van <state w:st="on">Gauteng</state> af, met daarie groot 4*4’s” (Yes uncle (I love the respect) but there are so many people there from <place w:st="on"><state w:st="on">Gauteng</state></place> with these big 4*4’s) is his reply.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">These are genuine people who look you straight in the eyes, “I don’t mind if an Oke wants to marry a black woman, but then they must be consistent, not like some of the Okes in Bloemhof who tell you one thing then do another” says Casper! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I don’t think that I have come across more unbridled generous assistance as received from the Casper and Co, and the children are a delight, they actually play made up games together, they talk to you with real interest and correct my Afrikaans with a laugh, these are not shy farm kids, they are right up there with everything, I think it is the manners, they have manners. I have said it before and I say it again, <place w:st="on"><country-region w:st="on">South Africa</country-region></place> without the Marais of this world is a gonna. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">More characters for the movie!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The Bush Camp is situated on the lagoon side of <place w:st="on">Pemba</place> 2.5 kms down a dirt road. As we have been without transport we have done a lot of walking up to the main road, where we have joined the mass transport system into town. At 5 mets (R1) for however far you go, it is great value. However at times it gets a little crowded. The other day we counted 26 passengers in a 15 passenger vehicle! This morning had my face pressed unusually close to the bust of a delightfully unperturbed lady. It is so much more fun than the sanitised air-conditioned transport of the Pemba Resort Hotel, which drops off cool looking clients at their private departure lounge. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The markets are a photographic delight, but you would expect to find a bigger variety of produce. The goat heads and meat sections, tend to push you to the edge of vegetarianism, as does the morning catch of majestic sail fish. Such a clever advertising concept from Vodacom. They appear to give you the paint to paint your house Vodacom Blue. There are whole villages pained blue!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We have had an enjoyable time, met some truly wonderful people and enjoyed the weather in the morning and the evening! It is hot, very hot. 26 degrees at 5 in the morning quickly rising to 40 degrees by 11 am. If you want <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to get anything done, do it early or late afternoon, otherwise reading a book while lying in a shaded hammock, floating in the lagoon or painting a picture, tends to lower stress. But I am looking forward to moving on next week. Hopefully!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I have done my first Acrylic painting as well as a couple of other water colours. Acrylics are so different, I will try again, they are quite fun to do, if you get it wrong, it can be corrected, unlike watercolours!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Happy New Year to you all.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div>Doff Ewa Travelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524535080975940977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111423073461080115.post-53492998065726159602010-12-26T22:26:00.000-08:002010-12-26T22:48:11.520-08:00Pemba Bush Camp<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinY5a9tgaBfBClz6rvR6g4H5klbEuN57bk7z_JxMAgosMpkjFGz3IjrnO7oFR9AoVKnYKqT8QbiRRtr9L1XfWDtZe-WJiygi_7WJWCW4wDDhRtwjrAbAECFsqsYnptDkcnL_fDhSeMh7U/s1600/Alex.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinY5a9tgaBfBClz6rvR6g4H5klbEuN57bk7z_JxMAgosMpkjFGz3IjrnO7oFR9AoVKnYKqT8QbiRRtr9L1XfWDtZe-WJiygi_7WJWCW4wDDhRtwjrAbAECFsqsYnptDkcnL_fDhSeMh7U/s320/Alex.jpg" width="240" /></a>Alex</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit17qilogbayd7AwGUOwwUFNgHldfq3p8mH1hA4bTcFv6Q5ffUB2f_0ad5rLNz3Rajp9ljEJ9oVejpUripCNPe5JtcsH0BGZfuhUVUX9vhgo_m6xvGa5po0_GxiBjWsTGMVDNZKNTJfYQ/s1600/Justin+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit17qilogbayd7AwGUOwwUFNgHldfq3p8mH1hA4bTcFv6Q5ffUB2f_0ad5rLNz3Rajp9ljEJ9oVejpUripCNPe5JtcsH0BGZfuhUVUX9vhgo_m6xvGa5po0_GxiBjWsTGMVDNZKNTJfYQ/s320/Justin+%25282%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a>Justin</div><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcQCrIQFqAzEsxSzfPIu_6Wkp5B6ffhRpTXCyEqVRnI5BpexoT0ZiPoqyiQfUiwY7woggKfjyC6Az2LGLPnYELalkVOHkrUJeT8toEu9sl_fzj47xfwKC37bcrG3oF32YIZeCWsDNQmJU/s1600/Pemba+Bush+Camp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcQCrIQFqAzEsxSzfPIu_6Wkp5B6ffhRpTXCyEqVRnI5BpexoT0ZiPoqyiQfUiwY7woggKfjyC6Az2LGLPnYELalkVOHkrUJeT8toEu9sl_fzj47xfwKC37bcrG3oF32YIZeCWsDNQmJU/s320/Pemba+Bush+Camp.jpg" width="320" /></a>Pemba Bush & Dive Camp</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvn9eLWfKDaP8ABFLWmxOwbaGl98lbgrgYECwQxAg6b2qonKAnL3pfyRj2xTIWHBO5sVvhkGYOUke1RCOEGi0RGImcvxhwUojjg3u48h24C-k_NFuCU5AmjRTwCBVsw37dKy6Inel1CMA/s1600/Mud+Bath.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvn9eLWfKDaP8ABFLWmxOwbaGl98lbgrgYECwQxAg6b2qonKAnL3pfyRj2xTIWHBO5sVvhkGYOUke1RCOEGi0RGImcvxhwUojjg3u48h24C-k_NFuCU5AmjRTwCBVsw37dKy6Inel1CMA/s320/Mud+Bath.jpg" width="320" /></a>Dressed for Christmas</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPQoVH48hhTH3doHNobbFRHC8aM_6d3u2PIgDw_yXl0oc9T1elc2VFKY6LPq9xdEsY1oXBupCpfDZ1eoNaAYBXwcfjsOgfwcIQOMtW7vTgiHMvCpyoHr7HvdzNCZl9kJyMJ4r1V9ySCO0/s1600/Pemba+Bush+Camp+Evening.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPQoVH48hhTH3doHNobbFRHC8aM_6d3u2PIgDw_yXl0oc9T1elc2VFKY6LPq9xdEsY1oXBupCpfDZ1eoNaAYBXwcfjsOgfwcIQOMtW7vTgiHMvCpyoHr7HvdzNCZl9kJyMJ4r1V9ySCO0/s320/Pemba+Bush+Camp+Evening.jpg" width="320" /></a>Sunset Bush Camp</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz8cV5FOlJrr76XjGXPKUWdj6s8Gm6gazHRYaYsuTgdrunbIXod3YbwxEfmKY2jjtq7UUECsEx8yYTuDnCPJroCGI0WVIdvhSgatznH7ipjo7BCuY00I7XEdoe1gix52kulqgpumQjtk0/s1600/Russells.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz8cV5FOlJrr76XjGXPKUWdj6s8Gm6gazHRYaYsuTgdrunbIXod3YbwxEfmKY2jjtq7UUECsEx8yYTuDnCPJroCGI0WVIdvhSgatznH7ipjo7BCuY00I7XEdoe1gix52kulqgpumQjtk0/s320/Russells.jpg" width="320" /></a>Russells Lodge Wimbi Beach</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Blog 11 Pemba</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><place w:st="on"><placename w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Wimbi</span></placename><span style="font-family: Arial;"> <placetype w:st="on">Beach</placetype></span></place><span style="font-family: Arial;">. That is the place to be seen! So we are told. Russell’s Place is on Wimbi beach. Well not exactly on the beach, rather on the other side of the road of the properties that border the beach. I am not sure what Russell will do, if in the unlikely event the person who started building the four houses on the beach properties over the road from Russell’s Place, decide to complete the project, as the present access system to the beach works just fine. Out of the gate past the guards, over the dirt road, over the broken fence, past the unfinished houses, around the piles of rubbish, onto the beach, Simple.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">If the tide is out you have to work a further 500m to find the sea. Is it pretty? Not really. Is it what we expected? No, definitely not and I certainly would not drive 7500 odd kms to come to Pemba, but we have had a really interesting time getting here and I believe Pemba Dive and Bush Camp, which is where we have made our reservations for a ten day holiday, will realise our expectations.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Russel is an Aussie from the Gold Coast who makes laid back feel busy. He started Russell’s Place soon after the end of the Frelimo war, to accommodate the Overlanders travelling down from <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Tanzania</place></country-region>. Trade in those days, he tells us, was excellent, but then the ferry which provided the link across the <placename w:st="on">Rovuma</placename> <placetype w:st="on">River</placetype> sank, so most of this trade by passed him via <place w:st="on">Lake Malawi</place>. They have built a new bridge across the river, but it is 200 km upstream and the roads on either side make crossing this bridge a serious challenge and not a particularly attractive option. Trade he tells us is OK but not that great. On the other hand the drop off in trade could also be due to the fact that he finds it a bit of a drag replying to booking requests! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Russell’s Place however reminds me of the Pudding Shop in <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Istanbul</place></city>. It is the place that all travellers seem to pass through if they want the low down on what’s what. The facilities are great, clean and functional. His swimming pool is a blissful retreat from the heat, even though the water temperature and the outside temperature are on parity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a great place to spend two days playing catch-up before the boys fly in and we move to the Bush Camp. A couple of cold beers, a painting or two, don’t know when I will find time for this Blog thing!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Pemba</span></place><span style="font-family: Arial;"> leaves a little to be desired. I imagined it to be a quaint palmed lined, seaside resort village, with turquoise seas and coral reefs, just like the brochures. It isn’t, but it must have been at one time in it’s history. It began as an Arab trading port. Being situated on a peninsula with a massive bay/lagoon on one side and the open <place w:st="on">Indian Ocean</place> on the other, it certainly must have presented an ideal harbour for the Arabs to take refuge in their dhows as they waited for the Trade winds to switch from blowing from the North in summer, to Southerlies in the winter. (Dhows incidentally can not point into the wind, well maybe a couple of degrees but not enough to go back to <place w:st="on">Arabia</place>!).</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Pemba must also<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>have been a great place to “hang out”; chain up whatever locals you could find in the area for future sale as slaves, lie under the palm trees, bonk a few of the lasses and generally have a good time swopping whatever on whatever was the then equivalent of Gumtree. A good place to be! Then came the Portuguese. Why change a winning formula?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Majestic remnants of the good times can be seen falling apart all over the place. If there was a Gum Tree it has long been cut down and turned to into charcoal. The waste management policy leaves a bit to be desired. The dump in the middle of the town is full up and I don’t think that anyone has come up with an alternative option, but there again the work day lasts about four hours. Five in the morning to about nine, then you melt.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The upside is you can fly in and out of <place w:st="on">Pemba</place> with ease. There is a runway that can land any aeroplane, it was built by the Americans to give them strike potential into Mogadisu.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Oh dear, something is wrong with the Kombi engine…aaaah, but we are in Pemba…..yea……but I don’t know what is wrong….aaaah, but I am on holiday in <place w:st="on">Pemba</place> so have time to fix it …..yea…….but …. Its more than dirt in the fuel…..aaaah………but I have more time to look at it….yea….the valve guide has collapsed…..big aaah……there are no Kombi exhaust valves, valve guides or any kombi parts in Pemba……more aaaah……and it is the day before Christmas…..bigger aaaaah….. I have found parts in SA that are flying DHL from <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Cape Town</city></place>………yea, yea, yea, …..and I have a mechanic who will do the job….yea…. but the parts have not arrived………aah…..so we may have to remain on holiday …..yea!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Pemba Bush and Dive is a great spot. It is situated on the lagoon side of the peninsular away from the madding crowd. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We left Russell’s, picked up the boys at the airport and drove to the Bush Camp. It has everything seen in the brochure, except the diving. The best diving is on a reef off <place w:st="on"><placename w:st="on">Wimbi</placename> <placetype w:st="on">Beach</placetype></place>, which we drive to on the first morning at the Bush Camp when I thought the lack of performance of the Kombi was a fuel blockage. It was spectacular snorkelling. Luke warm, clear water and beautiful fish; coral and seahorses. We don’t Scuba dive, but we are told<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>there is some spectacular Scuba diving.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The fun of the swim was marred somewhat by the body of a child washed up onto the beach. The body turned out to be that of a ten year old cerebral palsy girl who being a drag on the family resources was taken out to sea and dumped overboard. <place w:st="on">Africa</place> is no place for the faint hearted.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We are now forced to stay put at the Bush Camp while we wait for the Kombi Parts to arrive. We are happy with that. We had a really relaxing Christmas and it really is a time to relax and catch up before the long drive back to <city w:st="on">Cape Town</city> via <place w:st="on"><country-region w:st="on">Zimbabwe</country-region></place>.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I have done a couple of paintings, a few sketches of the boys, mud bath, fishing, swimming, reading……. I like this forced relaxation!</span></div>Doff Ewa Travelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524535080975940977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111423073461080115.post-33648684031409321542010-12-18T05:42:00.000-08:002010-12-18T05:46:53.937-08:00Blog 10<span style="color: red; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I forgot that I published the last blog, and modified the last paragraph! So please read the following as a continuation of Blog 9 </span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">....................It has been an interesting couple of days. Did I enjoy it? Yes and No, but on the whole No. You can’t close yours eyes as you are watched and regarded as a bank on two legs, a Fat Monkey.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The drive out went a lot quicker than the drive in. What a relief to reach the tarred road. The relief is short lived, a much more intransient obstacle lay ahead about 5 kms down the road. A fat, officious, corrupt, smirky, low-life, police woman operating a road block that is nothing more than a Christmas collection box for other low-life colleagues, stops us. First the drivers licence, then the car insurance letter she can not read, then the registration papers, the inspection of the SA tax disk, the vis. jackets, the triangles. All good, no Christmas Box here. Ah, what about a fire extinguisher? “Not required I reply, only for commercial vehicles”. Actually, I have had an extinguisher in the car for years, but I must have left it in the workshop after the latest re-fitment! We look anyway, out with everything, delay, delay, delay.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">“I must fine you” she says. “I am telling you a Fire Extinguisher is not required, so why don’t you write out the fine and I will take it back to the Police Station in the appropriately named Monkey Bay and check the statute books and speak to the Top Monkey” I say, or rather wanted to say but managed to bite my tongue. We take the scrap of paper and return to meet the Top Brass Monkey. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I am correct, vehicles carrying hazardous materials require two fire extinguishers; public transport vehicles, one fire extinguisher; private vehicles, nothing. When I point out the law to the TBM, he says to Ewa “You are a passenger therefore it is a public vehicle.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I tell the TBM that we will pay the fine and take the matter up with the Embassy when we return to SA, which we will do, not that it will make a scrap of difference. The TBM then says that they do not have a cashier at the Police Station, only at the road block. We return to the road-block, a swarm of recipients emerge and we pay the “cashier” who is some random lady sitting on a bench with a plastic packet. This matter is not closed! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We met similar TBM’s when we arrived in <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Moscow</place></city> in 1975. I didn’t like them then and I like them less now as they are getting closer to home.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I need some light relief, but there is none! We check in to Palm Beach Lodge at the Southern end of <place w:st="on">Lake Malawi</place>. It is stunning. We park under the Palm Trees on the lake shore. It is owned by another Daanie, an erstwhile South African fisherman, who started developing the place 36 years ago, when it was “one of the best fishing spots in the world”. Now? “I doubt if their will be any fish left in 5 years time” he says. An Aid Organization sponsored mosquito nets in an attempt to fight Malaria. The nets are used to catch fish, and are so fine that they have all but wiped out the breeding grounds! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">What is going to happen in <place w:st="on">Africa</place>? Right now before our eyes you can witness the land being turned to desert by charcoal and the Chinese, no fish in the <place w:st="on">Lake</place> and very little agriculture. This is happening now. The impact on <place w:st="on"><country-region w:st="on">South Africa</country-region></place> can only be devastating whatever our immigration policies may be.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Our next destination point is Ilha de Mozambique, it is about 650 km due East. We have two options, either we go South, East and North on the tar, almost doubling the distance or we go 450 kms due East on dirt to pick up the tar at Nampula. We decide to brave the dirt and pray that the rainy season will abate for the day. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><place w:st="on"><city w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Palm Beach</span></city></place><span style="font-family: Arial;"> to Mangochi, where the evidence of past wealth adds a quaintness to the town. Left at the defunct traffic lights, along a tree lined avenue to the round-a-bout with statuesque statue celebrating the entrance to the bridge over the river separating Lake Malawi and <place w:st="on"><placetype w:st="on">Lake</placetype> <placename w:st="on">Malombe</placename></place>. It is impressive. We cross the bridge and start the climb out of the rift valley. We climb up to 1400 m. The views are vast and spectacular. We reach the <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Mozambique</place></country-region> border at Chiponde a depressing dustbowl of a town. We miss the border post, which is hardly surprising as it required a left turn between various informal traders, money changers and touts. We correct our mistake 10kms down the road. I wait in the car while Ewa negotiates officialdom. Can my wife act? She returns to the car in tears. More tears, and pleadings of ignorance and poverty see us through. That made both our <country-region w:st="on">Malawi</country-region> border experiences<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a trial.We had only been granted a 2 day visa into <place w:st="on"><country-region w:st="on">Malawi</country-region></place>, why I don’t know as we had said we wanted to travel around a bit and had asked for a 2 week visa. So now we had overstayed our welcome by 8 days and needed to pay a fine.Luckily the young official on the other side of the counter was embarrassed by Ewa’s weeping and wailing and as we hadn’t yet signed the book and filled in our particulars he just tore up the visa document and sent us away. Much better experiences on the <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Mozambique</place></country-region> border and we are on our way. Seven hours of dodgem cars, dodgem livestock, dodgem people, and dodgem potholes. One unsuspecting sunken bridge landing bottomed out the kombi, but we survived. The rain largely held off, the light vanished but we made it to Mantes Nairuco Camp site. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOC468cEDXNYqMQ596Bv9mplG_cjfaofAhgp4IOVXTxf57PemNm7s1ecgftQc04zxbVZO5Y3Oscm75bJ82efXJlpdIH34gpXHMFX0a9qsCwdwhweam20r_D6B_lRBeynSsGYpY0Rqjv7U/s1600/Mr+Price.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOC468cEDXNYqMQ596Bv9mplG_cjfaofAhgp4IOVXTxf57PemNm7s1ecgftQc04zxbVZO5Y3Oscm75bJ82efXJlpdIH34gpXHMFX0a9qsCwdwhweam20r_D6B_lRBeynSsGYpY0Rqjv7U/s320/Mr+Price.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu_VzX3AbSmeDU2V2twwYjRuHCjRQBvo-4EePl6yaJJlt6BMftLFiYD1cD_6J9HdtCLyf8-DKnjWkY2kSQADCv8TV6Mclw3nCGgoIaD-xlS40zYV08n1HhoMmPURraAtzw1sFFhzn4Vzo/s1600/On+Route.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu_VzX3AbSmeDU2V2twwYjRuHCjRQBvo-4EePl6yaJJlt6BMftLFiYD1cD_6J9HdtCLyf8-DKnjWkY2kSQADCv8TV6Mclw3nCGgoIaD-xlS40zYV08n1HhoMmPURraAtzw1sFFhzn4Vzo/s320/On+Route.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Mantes Nairuco is owned by Manuel Malves Ferrera. I have met some amazing people in my life, but not many like Manuel. I have GOT to make a movie or documentary about this man. Please film-makers, writers and promoters out there, help me. This man provides the centre point of an African story. He ran away from <place w:st="on">Madeira</place> when he was 16, he was hungry. He arrived in <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Johannesburg</place></city> in the 1960’s when “Verwoerd was in power”. After six years in <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Johannesburg</place></city> he had overstayed his visa and was arrested. He could pay a fine or go to gaol for a month. He had no money so he chose gaol. Not speaking anything but Portuguese and no formal education he managed to get release into <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Mozambique</place></country-region>. He started driving trucks. Leased some land 20 kms outside Nampula. Married Veronica, started farming, started dam building and carried on driving trucks. 18 years later he has 450 hectares of land, groves of orange trees, lemon trees, and leachy trees. Enough chickens that he can have 7000 stolen by his workers and still be in business. Enough Quails to produce 1400 eggs a day. A timber plantation, palm trees and a camp site highly recommended by Lonely Planet. The whole enterprise sustained by the water in the dam he started building 18 years ago. A dam that now spreads back 1 km through massive granite rocks.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">On the 28<sup>th</sup> of March 2010, the hidden city of termites in the dam wall caused a fist sized breach in the wall. Two hours later Manuel watched 18 years of life washed down the river, leaving “Baraccas” and Palm Trees arbitrarily standing on what was once the shore line.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We arrive somewhat shattered by our long and dusty drive, we are warmly welcomed by Manuel and Veronica. He says, “The rains must come now, I finish the dam wall today, everything has died, we need the water again”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So he starts again and he will succeed against all odds. He is philosophical about life, nature, corruption and politics. He is truly an inspirational person.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Ewa decided that she would like to spend her birthday on Ilha de Mozambique a World Heritage Site accessed by a somewhat suspect 3km single file bridge. The idea was that we would stay in a camp site next to the start of the bridge and described in glowing terms in Ewa’s version of the Lonely Planet. Unfortunately, Ewa’s version is 6 years old! We arrive at what was once a camp site! We can stay there, but there is no water, what were the facilities would necessitate constipation. It is disgusting. I assure my wife that I think it would be OK to stretch the budget and stay in lodgings on the <place w:st="on">Island</place>, after all it was her last evening at 59 years old!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Ewa vacillates and eventually agreed to splash out! The sun is about to disappear. We cross the bridge and circumnavigate the <place w:st="on">Island</place> then head for the next Lonely Planet recommendation. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I really do think that out of date second hand guide books are not a good idea! The lodgings described do not exist. Muanangonh (Copa Cabana) presents itself. Sonje the owner is delightful but does not understand a word of English. Marcos Ogasawara is a Brazilian who has been teaching orphans in Chimoio and is sitting at table on the pavement. He speaks English perfectly and helps us out. We are shown various rooms and settle for the en-suite room No.8. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJZyGWeyflykXLxodLcAcUEYcS_QyMmKFJF1OwIxQ1vG9z_ffgtJN9O6hBS28wx978SaTGCusLCh-eR4T5cWoOn7oAGqfKdZTcbjBcoQgV4q335yz_a0nIODWiuF5PCwS_6cAz7EE8Ok/s1600/Coca+Cobana.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJZyGWeyflykXLxodLcAcUEYcS_QyMmKFJF1OwIxQ1vG9z_ffgtJN9O6hBS28wx978SaTGCusLCh-eR4T5cWoOn7oAGqfKdZTcbjBcoQgV4q335yz_a0nIODWiuF5PCwS_6cAz7EE8Ok/s320/Coca+Cobana.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Room No.8 is a basement room with one small window, a double bed with mosquito net over, a TV, a fan that squeaks and very little room for anything else except mosquitoes. The en-suite bit consisted of a loo which had to be flush by water from a orange plastic ex cooking oil container. I took off the cistern top to see if I could remedy the situation, but it was used as a container for ex light bulbs and general rubbish and was not connected to the bottom half of the loo. There was a tap in the wall but no fitting above and anyway if you opened the tap there was no water in the system anyway, hence another bucket of water and milk jug to scoop it out! This was definitely not how I would have imagined spending Ewa’s 60<sup>th</sup> birthday! <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgbI-j55cTCW7a_v7IwKvHj-iKCsY0KLnUoo7ubs4lbczJyO18jBW7r7z0XBk68v2Am8h_nez16ysRLDrL463W7_h6GlBXZjP0_XPcURDvDdlI3_1Xmg0v0MKwisYVUQyYKFLAjF8W2X0/s1600/Birthday+Bedroom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgbI-j55cTCW7a_v7IwKvHj-iKCsY0KLnUoo7ubs4lbczJyO18jBW7r7z0XBk68v2Am8h_nez16ysRLDrL463W7_h6GlBXZjP0_XPcURDvDdlI3_1Xmg0v0MKwisYVUQyYKFLAjF8W2X0/s320/Birthday+Bedroom.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuzQzXGSoe6VsVaxeRFGd_r89zUDhIsV-OjzxzhhIRgKj02NBP2bw6rnIkY4soZbTtCiUOxwDU7d_9NGtfvKplKHwRyGt0NZpB15jeHdYi1tZRdf1PrpPtovOuhKsqk-9YoBkzOPf_fWw/s1600/en-suite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuzQzXGSoe6VsVaxeRFGd_r89zUDhIsV-OjzxzhhIRgKj02NBP2bw6rnIkY4soZbTtCiUOxwDU7d_9NGtfvKplKHwRyGt0NZpB15jeHdYi1tZRdf1PrpPtovOuhKsqk-9YoBkzOPf_fWw/s320/en-suite.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">It was fun and coolish sitting on the pavement having a beer and chatting to Marcos and learning about <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Sao Paulo</place></city> and his Japanese father. The potatoes and onion soup was great, the fish was terrible but the rice filled a gap!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We retired to bed, or rather to our room. I think I managed to kill all the resident mosquitoes after about half an hour and managed to fall through the loose slats in the bed in the process. Spike Milligan once said he could grab a handful of air and squeeze the sweat out of it! Such was the air. The only relief was the squeaky fan; we turned it on, climbed under the mosquitoes net and sweated it out until 4.30 in the morning!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At 4.30 the sun starts rising, the Mosque starts calling, the person on the other side of the window makes a fire for cooking and begins sweeping whatever was that side of the wall. I start choking, wish my wife Happy Birthday, pour a milk jug of tepid water over our sweating bodies and decide to walk to town before the general rise of the masses. This was definitely a memorable Birthday!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ZeYT4mcVZx6yGec8321wy5PTQxTcEB6PlMY3SJQf8Yi9kl__FMB2sXhEqztLhgEb3OswP-f1N6zSF-0rU2o7H7WUI4IU3vMuPVeWFDM9hyphenhyphenD8_BPsilUjRFbzokftcxLoycYgPbL-mXs/s1600/Other+Lodgings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ZeYT4mcVZx6yGec8321wy5PTQxTcEB6PlMY3SJQf8Yi9kl__FMB2sXhEqztLhgEb3OswP-f1N6zSF-0rU2o7H7WUI4IU3vMuPVeWFDM9hyphenhyphenD8_BPsilUjRFbzokftcxLoycYgPbL-mXs/s320/Other+Lodgings.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">By 7.30 we had walked the <place w:st="on">Island</place>. It is a photographic feast of dilapidated buildings and humanity. I am not sure what obligations a World Heritage Site places on UNESCO or Government, but whatever it is, it appears not to be working.<span style="color: red;">Actually it really was awful…the accommodation that is…it was worse than any servants’ quarters in SA….I think it must have been where the Arabs “stored” the slaves before sending them off to the Americas…anyway at least we could laugh about it and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>know more about what it feels like to live here!!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We are away from Ilha de <place w:st="on"><country-region w:st="on">Mozambique</country-region></place> by<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>km 7.45 am. We have a 200km diversion to yet another Lonely Planet recommendation in Nacala, which does not exist and decide to head for our ultimate destination. Pemba.<span style="color: red;">Well it did but under a different name!! and was a couple of kms up a sandy road and we felt sorry for the kombi and I didn’t want to push and dig on my bday!! He left out the part when we had to dig and push the Kombi out of the dreadful campsite near Ilha da Mozambique, the day before my bday!!</span> After a tumultuous thunder burst 400 odd kms, we make it by nightfall to Russell’s Camp. A birthday dinner, champagne and sleep, ends my wife’s 60<sup>th</sup> birthday celebration.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxIN0PCilVKo_66JYH4JfXXSQ9bQhNfKwo0PF82FQ-1NbzzDD4sJYTKxyBU5gYogOWgOY-FCDr9r6HzoRfIL7yQ4LIxqyl8Me8ADTkjSLGcrN-r5RdeOWIsFLBjgZN6xdpKF60qpNigoU/s1600/Birthday+Party.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxIN0PCilVKo_66JYH4JfXXSQ9bQhNfKwo0PF82FQ-1NbzzDD4sJYTKxyBU5gYogOWgOY-FCDr9r6HzoRfIL7yQ4LIxqyl8Me8ADTkjSLGcrN-r5RdeOWIsFLBjgZN6xdpKF60qpNigoU/s320/Birthday+Party.jpg" width="320" /></a> A </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO0uhx5bk6qjwN40bPIMof4mdG9lkiKFxVZLege5Pm2rMiWKMTAPk52lW292pmpfVZfA5Bud6QWcpMaNrKVnJ3BbpmuUM3Te2eGRFpFyyO8Y2f_EYZYXH576z_YZmHNjfkMc3UiTT5R_c/s1600/After+Party.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO0uhx5bk6qjwN40bPIMof4mdG9lkiKFxVZLege5Pm2rMiWKMTAPk52lW292pmpfVZfA5Bud6QWcpMaNrKVnJ3BbpmuUM3Te2eGRFpFyyO8Y2f_EYZYXH576z_YZmHNjfkMc3UiTT5R_c/s320/After+Party.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">My wife as we know her after champagne. A memorable day for sure.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">The GPS says we are 12º57.59 South 40º34.01East and have travelled 7215 kms</span><br />
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...................Doff Ewa Travelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524535080975940977noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111423073461080115.post-12597413946065399822010-12-13T23:08:00.000-08:002010-12-13T23:08:36.135-08:00Cape Maclear Malawi<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Blog 9</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">GOD IS WITH US ……….JJ & SONS, so says the writing on the “kappenta” boat as it chugs by, it is 6.15 in the morning. JJ at the helm and the Sons curled up asleep on the fishing nets squashed between the paraffin lights and the dugouts which are loaded across the beam of the boat. They and many others have been out all night laying their nets. It is a tough life staged within the backdrop of tranquil beauty.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We have taken up residence at Fat Monkey’s. The Kombi is parked under a massive Mango tree and my view of the lake, half sunken boat and the island is framed by hanging mangoes that “thud” down on the Kombi roof and the ground around us at regular intervals. The beach between the no-go zone of Fat Monkey’s wall and the lake is traversed by all sorts of passing life; kids going to school, woman with large colourful plastic bowls balanced on their heads baby strapped to the back and the previous child toddling next to her, Hustlers waiting to engage the unsuspecting traveller who puts foot into this zone, with “Hullo, how are you, my name is Livingstone” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(he got around did David!) and all sort of stragglers walking to where-ever. Some prefer to paddle the distance in their hollowed out dugouts.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUuyU3zlu7s3pOeMKo1OAg0I0fdxq5a_aWmQE8MHLOYeG8egNa4uDq4Oxjhx7mOKhaIway772nABSlGSVfJ6QFMUSAmhLpNTvc5CsAUJmg5qFAPbwt-b0OOXmPSQlsJuovbFy6wQDFGUs/s1600/Woman%2527s+Lif.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUuyU3zlu7s3pOeMKo1OAg0I0fdxq5a_aWmQE8MHLOYeG8egNa4uDq4Oxjhx7mOKhaIway772nABSlGSVfJ6QFMUSAmhLpNTvc5CsAUJmg5qFAPbwt-b0OOXmPSQlsJuovbFy6wQDFGUs/s320/Woman%2527s+Lif.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju1gcvk_HCpGW_5alYlE3NvKnfdDrEh_kSJSnODW_ZhGgJT-VSH4JpaRveZdixSVjm5lvDGt90Nmr9fJku97ecQ2gP4QCefXGu0SYcHXu4TUBlO14FESqGVJqiDavrZaRkXE-2Oclroq8/s1600/Tropical+Workplace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju1gcvk_HCpGW_5alYlE3NvKnfdDrEh_kSJSnODW_ZhGgJT-VSH4JpaRveZdixSVjm5lvDGt90Nmr9fJku97ecQ2gP4QCefXGu0SYcHXu4TUBlO14FESqGVJqiDavrZaRkXE-2Oclroq8/s320/Tropical+Workplace.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Lw3yc3jcWrf2CFZ1CT5iGkFxzVOG2e8ij7VJs9dMUE0X_jJSQqAxCr_ABeVu66wDeXLjhFPfPOhGyqWMm8CKP5mbDxdZ6q5ydR17No7AUIjP2waKHF8qFdnhRqJapqgoB9GHfsJtn6E/s1600/Cape+Maclear+038.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Lw3yc3jcWrf2CFZ1CT5iGkFxzVOG2e8ij7VJs9dMUE0X_jJSQqAxCr_ABeVu66wDeXLjhFPfPOhGyqWMm8CKP5mbDxdZ6q5ydR17No7AUIjP2waKHF8qFdnhRqJapqgoB9GHfsJtn6E/s320/Cape+Maclear+038.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Fingers of Chembe village occasionally fill the gaps down to the lake which is otherwise occupied by White owned resorts of mixed nationalities. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">If you flew into <placetype w:st="on">Cape</placetype> <placename w:st="on">Maclear</placename> you could be forgiven to think you had arrived in heaven, the warm water of the tranquil <place w:st="on">Lake Malawi</place>, very agreeable weather and peace of the Lodges with their straw roofed bars on the lake edge. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I don’t think I like it, I feel like a monkey in a cage, Ewa says that we are looked at as “money on two legs”. You can’t blame them as the economic difference is massive. Yesterday we walked through Chembe village and thei little market to buy some yeast, (I am determined to perfect the making of bread!), it is really depressing, you look at them and they look at you. It is almost impossible to communicate with any sense of equality, (it is raining mangoes, a breeze got up!) then you retreat back to your largely white enclave.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I was appalled on our arrival. We were sitting under our mango <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>tree about to enjoy a Carling Green Label (manufactured in <country-region w:st="on">Malawi</country-region> by the only Carling factory in <place w:st="on">Africa</place>). Two of the Fat Monkeys children ran out into the lake, hotly pursued by their two pet dogs, black jobbies of mixed pedigree. An unsuspecting villager on his walk back home comes between dogs and children and is immediately set upon by the dogs and flees into the lake. I feel sick. The dogs back off and the villager moves on.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I approach the Fat Monkey owners. Repentant? Not a chance. “No doubt he taunted the dogs at some time in the past, welcome to black <place w:st="on">Africa</place>!” is their reply. I ask them please not to summons me to court, as I would have to say what I saw and in any civilised country in the world the dogs would be put down before someone was killed. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">How in the world can this place survive if the only reason the villagers tolerate you is economics. There is absolutely no intention of bridging the gap. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><place w:st="on"><placetype w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Cape</span></placetype><span style="font-family: Arial;"> <placename w:st="on">Maclear</placename></span></place><span style="font-family: Arial;"> reminds me of Apartheid in the sixties. Except for the falling mangoes! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I have to say that snorkelling around the island about IKm off shore was like swimming in an aquarium! Now we have to pack up and endure the 18km of hellish corrugations back to the main road.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">It has been an interesting couple of days. Did I enjoy it? No, I can’t close my eyes.</span></div>Doff Ewa Travelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524535080975940977noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111423073461080115.post-90614319462310968462010-12-11T23:20:00.000-08:002010-12-11T23:20:48.150-08:00Blog 7 & 8<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Blog 7</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Limba Country Club to Zomba Plateau Trout Farm Camp site; to Dedza Golf Club Lodge with no golf course!, only Hippo Necks; (Hippo Necks? They are the men who viewed from behind<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>have rolls of fat where their necks should be, they normally drive large white or silver Turbo Cooled Somethingorothers, with chromed covers protecting the spare wheel. More often or not they have a sort of circular star logo that looks very similar to the UN Logo); to <placename w:st="on">Senga</placename> <placetype w:st="on">Bay</placetype> via <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Lilongwe</place></city>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">LCC has been described. The trip to Zomba is really scenic. Zomba was the capital of <place w:st="on"><country-region w:st="on">Malawi</country-region></place> until 1976 and has the beautiful backdrop of the Zomba Plateau. The steep twisting road winds up the side of the plateau for about eight kilometres to about 1500m. If you are lucky enough not to be shrouded in mist, the views down over the rift valley to <place w:st="on"><placetype w:st="on">Lake</placetype> <placename w:st="on">Chilwa</placename></place> in the distance are spectacular, and the cool of the forests are a welcome relief form the floor of the valley. We were the only campers at the Trout Farm Camp site. The black ants took us by surprise, but Livingstone, the camp janitor took care of them with a similar remedy to Zimbabwean Steve! Loverly walks, cool air really refreshed the soul.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">There is an element of calm in <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Malawi</place></country-region>, decent well educated peaceful people. Everywhere there is an effort at cultivation. The school girls all wear calf length dresses (hangover from Banda days). Most villages have a Post Office and it is not uncommon to see book-shop signs. Bricks, brick kilns and more bricks, everywhere bricks. Apparently it is said that in past days the rural people would demolish their parent’s house when they died, so stock piled bricks in preparation for the day when they would be required! Whatever the reason, there are bricks everywhere……and walls. Brick walls surround every establishment!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The drive to Dedza skirts through the mountains along the border of <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Mozambique</place></country-region>. It is littered with a patchwork of agricultural endeavour. Tomatoes, onions and potatoes all along the way, then all of a sudden massive mushrooms are vendored six at a time on a stick. We stop to look and are surrounded. Six or nothing, “We only want one” we say. Blank, part sales do not appear to be an option. We drive on. I suggest to Ewa that she tenders a 200 Kwatcha (R8, a great deal) note and see what happens. Blank stares until one smart Alec does the maths! The look of surprise on faces of the assembled crowd was amazing; maybe we have started a trend! We managed half a mushroom between us, absolutely delicious. Will buy again should the opportunity arise.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The weather has been very kind, a bit of drizzle and coolish air, not the 50 degrees expected. Dusk brings us to Dedza and on the advice of Lonely Planet; Dedza Golf Course Lodge is the place to camp. We find the sign and turn right, a fork road and no sign takes us rightish, better worn track. LP said DGCL backs onto the forested mountain. The narrowing track is just so. It stars to drizzle and the road and dusk light are running out. “I think we are on the wrong road” says the Dentist. “How do we turn around on a mountain side?” replies the Inventor. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Problem. We reverse. Very silent in the Kombi. Very tense. A track to the side presents itself. The Inventor is not happy, nor is the Dentist cum Car Pusher looking that confident. We make the hairpin reverse manoeuvre and manage to go backwards. The problem is we need to go forwards. No can do, back down the slippery hill, fine. Forwards up said slippery hill in the dark, a problem. Deflate the tyres. Tell the Dentist to take up pushing stance. Much mud flying, we make it to the road, or rather 2m short of the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dentist not looking her best bespattered with mud, very grumpy, back left very low in mud. Rainy season in <place w:st="on"><country-region w:st="on">Malawi</country-region></place>. Yours truly seeks help from lone light source. Four young twenty-year-old plus resident Car Pusher get us back on the road facing the exit. DGCL is up the left fork 200m from main road. Dentist very glum.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">There is no golf course nor is there camping. The LP is out of date. The receptionist is delightful and offers us the car park and a bathroom in one of their spectacular suites. Ewa is looking a sight to behold spattered head to toe in mud! We have a wonderful bath and are squeaky clean in our new attire but the dress code does not include bare feet! Our shoes look like mud clogs! We have no other option but to scrub our shoes clean in the bath. Never in all my life have I seen a bath that colour! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">With new attire, wet shoes and a cleaned bathroom, nobody is the wiser. We enter the bar / restaurant. Hippo Necks, everywhere Hippo Necks. Tribalism and Hippo Necks must go!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Arial;">Once again I have to interrupt this monologue….please note photo of me and the spade!..it is not a joke……I really am expected to use it and perform miracles….photo is taken of me clean and relaxed by the lake a few days later!..this time no sand but mud much harder to dig!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Arial;">Will insist ONLY MOTORWAY travel from now on.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We sleep like a log, routine Kombi maintenance in the morning puts me side by side with the Turbo-Cooled Somethingorother being polished. The difference. The West worries about how it is working, <place w:st="on">Africa</place> worries about how it looks. The Turbocooled Somethingorother drives away in a cloud of smoke.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><city w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Lilongwe</span></city><span style="font-family: Arial;"> to <place w:st="on"><placename w:st="on">Senga</placename> <placetype w:st="on">Bay</placetype></place>. We are the only occupants of the Steps Sunbird Camp site on <place w:st="on"><placename w:st="on">Livingstonia</placename> <placetype w:st="on">Beach</placetype></place>, right on the lake. Everything excellent, electricity, clean toilets, absolutely beautiful. The peace remains for a couple of hour until the arrival of Ant Hill, a taxi from <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Lilongwe</place></city>. 20 odd people spill out, and the party begins! Its fun, everybody cavorting and dancing, the bass of the music enough to alter any pacemaker. As dusk approaches Ant Hill leaves. Peace again. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq5fSSLEFhyphenhyphenl-c80RDgsev3QTUFxxEHpnLQ37mQTvQTjNV2avoxqS0bQPEFUwvkGO7a0uAmQ3h4CUxwAipmco0qJaXrg_2qiFSx1pL7PX_LewWvm1-szcfOoYVVK_RYWJBw-wM-RK3UJI/s1600/Senga+Bay+Storm+Damage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq5fSSLEFhyphenhyphenl-c80RDgsev3QTUFxxEHpnLQ37mQTvQTjNV2avoxqS0bQPEFUwvkGO7a0uAmQ3h4CUxwAipmco0qJaXrg_2qiFSx1pL7PX_LewWvm1-szcfOoYVVK_RYWJBw-wM-RK3UJI/s320/Senga+Bay+Storm+Damage.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhggrVkriQVlDljP0hRiAa4E7IZkD4bsdo2c__5yo2PcIeoOpZlNo-kQTD3-Pm7ir6SHPvdxBypsSOkm4kxTI_7n6ulcPz2c88n1Ug4DCrcTsgZrt-zOT3WgEzY3GMvBPd3JP5GvH-8T1U/s1600/Kombi+Pusher+and+Spade.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhggrVkriQVlDljP0hRiAa4E7IZkD4bsdo2c__5yo2PcIeoOpZlNo-kQTD3-Pm7ir6SHPvdxBypsSOkm4kxTI_7n6ulcPz2c88n1Ug4DCrcTsgZrt-zOT3WgEzY3GMvBPd3JP5GvH-8T1U/s320/Kombi+Pusher+and+Spade.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">It is the beginning of the rainy season. There has been rain most days, but the cloud cover has made travelling pleasant. The afternoons see the build-up of thunder showers which come and go, but nothing like prepared us or the locals for this particular afternoon. The normal size dustbin at our campsite filled up the halfway in two hours! A deluge would be down playing it. The beach was reshaped, two houses in the village were washed away, the lake turned from crystal clear to a mud bath. We battened down the Kombi and bided our time buffeted by huge winds. Then it was gone.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I love the Kombi. It seems to just accept life; it shelters you, protects you and just keeps on going, an amazing vehicle.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Post the deluge, the day cleared to become a perfect day. We inflated the canoe which was brought back as hand luggage from the Cologne Fair some years ago. It lives under the seat in the kombi and has been used many times at sea in an effort to catch a crayfish or two. It can more than handle the 1.5km paddle to the island that beckons a visit. Paddling the Kombi Pusher tells me is good for the Pecs.<span style="color: red;">and boobs!</span> Anything that helps at 60 is welcomed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We snorkel around the island waters. The fish are beautiful, bright blues and greens, and the water is lukewarm. The gathering afternoon shower sees to the further development of the pectoral muscles!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We move on in the morning to Venice Bay Lodge in <place w:st="on"><placename w:st="on">Monkey</placename> <placetype w:st="on">Bay</placetype></place>, a 2 hour drive along the lake shore. I like this place, it is not on the tourist route, it is on the lake in the middle of a village; the log boats of the fisherman are lined up on the beach waiting for the morning sun. The lake looks like a sea so it really surprises you seeing people come down to fetch drinking water, wash and bathe in what the subconscious tells you is salty! Life could be easy with a salt less sea!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisMma1phR4WYdWcJnZkcIjDAaQMBB8TvfFps9qr1t4qZpMhcPI55kaQjmFDP_G8WdMu8lh8dvHSbiqHhYufdRfnvJzsHCEWjdKPrRaLNmH6nKNHdHfoYYyQchAOJzsVBxAAGmXSC1YR8M/s1600/Venis+Camp+sunrise.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisMma1phR4WYdWcJnZkcIjDAaQMBB8TvfFps9qr1t4qZpMhcPI55kaQjmFDP_G8WdMu8lh8dvHSbiqHhYufdRfnvJzsHCEWjdKPrRaLNmH6nKNHdHfoYYyQchAOJzsVBxAAGmXSC1YR8M/s320/Venis+Camp+sunrise.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Blog 8</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Some of you have asked me to post some more of my paintings. Well let me say these paintings are tiny. I have a little A5 black book that I use. They are records and I hope to improve as time goes by. Sadly and scarily I filled the book up the other day, so now I have to go bigger and that scares me a little I am also going to try some other mediums, so who knows what the results may be, but either way I love doing them good or bad! The “Little Black Book” contains about 80 sketches and watercolours of trips done over the last year and a half, so I am posting the paintings done so far on this trip, from today onwards they will change!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div>Doff Ewa Travelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524535080975940977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111423073461080115.post-52606046777435341202010-12-09T23:22:00.000-08:002010-12-09T23:22:27.717-08:00Malawi<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Blog 6</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Arial;">I think he is preaching a bit too much in this blog</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Getting out and away from Pomene was epic. We were to be towed to the “Red” road by Umlungu who does a daily run to Massenga for provisions of one form or another. Umlungu is the PR/Liaison bloke for the Lodge. He is a real credit to the place and has a great relationship with the surrounding villages. His daily run includes chores for the villages and lifts for various souls. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The road out is 56 km. You hit the red road about 26km from the Lodge. We were attached by a very short 2.5m umbilical cord to Umlungu’s 4*4. We were attached but not towed, the Kombi was driven under her own power, (“her” was in the back seat with her eyes closed praying to Christopher someone or other). So most of the time the umbilical cord was slackish until we hit the really soft sand when the 4*4 took up the slack and we both powered our way through the trouble. I can’t tell you the relief when we finally got to the red gravel and cut the cord and went on our separate ways, and “she” opened her eyes. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">One other perturbing thing about the trip. Umlungu is a seriously educated decent person with a wife who would not be out of place in Vogue. As I was concentrating like hell on the variable distance between me and the 4*4, the next thing I see is a Coke can thrown out of his window then a packet of some sort! If top management don’t care about littering their own back yard, who is there to set an example?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Africa</span></place><span style="font-family: Arial;"> is a basket case. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Our next stop was Inhassoro, which can best be described as Beaufort West by the sea! A place which happens to be a convenient place to spend the night, Wagon Wheels Motel without the Wheels! The camp sight was OK, on the beach and next to a pleasant beach restaurant who had more waiters than patrons. At the bottom of the steps leading down to the beach was a structure<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>that resembles a double crucifix where Koos and his mates gloated over the size of their latest catch. A carved sign celebrates a record Marlin of 456kg (there or there about). I feel sick.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">It was evening, the tide was out. Ewa and I walked past the Crucifix over the kelp across the beach into waist deep water with the faint glimmer of lights from the luxurious cocktail bars of <place w:st="on"><placename w:st="on">Bazaruto</placename> <placetype w:st="on">Islands</placetype></place> on the horizon. The sea was very shallow. To swim I lay down and sort of pulled myself along with my fingers in the sand. I was amazed. Every step I touched a Pansy Shell just under the sand, they were alive. I always thought the perfect white Pansy Shells we used to look for on the beaches of the Wild Coast had something to do with Jelly Fish, not so they are animals in their own right and when they are alive are brown not white!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">There was another couple camping, a German couple called Ollie and Helgar or something that sounded like Helgar. They appear to do nothing else but travel, and while they were not travelling did nothing. Helgar the Horrible didn’t like walking. She also used the Men’s toilet. Maybe she was confused, I felt sorry for Ollie. Poor man. They were spending three nights in “Beaufort West”, when I asked them what they had been doing, they said “Nothing”! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Inhassoro to Inchope. Hot, really hot. Thank goodness for the Kombi’s Aircon. The Kombi’s Aircon works by getting the Dentist to spray you top to bottom with water from the recycled Doom bottle or some such spray bottle which she<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>has been hording for years. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By angling the little triangular window that one only finds on pre circa 1980 cars your leaking body is chilled by a degree or so. You can’t see much while she sprays as it fogs up the glasses, but this can be a blessing as you can’t see the bloke at the side of the road who is vending live chickens and guinea fowl by tying their feet together and holding them upside down. As you drive passed they are jerked up and down a couple of time so that their wings flap, thereby proving their freshness. Or maybe the fog would stop me having to see a flatbed articulated truck with no sides and rows of live goats (you know they are alive because they are also flaying around) chain-ganged and secured to lie down on the flatbed so that they can bake in the noonday sun. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">There were other things that also made my stomach sink. Flatbed timber trucks laiden with massive specimens of hard wood on their way to <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">China</place></country-region> to end up as veneered furniture of one form or another. You know that none of the specimens have been replaced. Then on the other hand you see the land on either side of the road completely denuded of the self same trees only to end up as bags of charcoal for sale on the side of the road. Maybe a veneer is better than nothing!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We spend the night in what potentially could be a magnificent campsite on the Chicamba Real Dam outside Chimoio, on the <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Mozambique</place></country-region> side of the Zimbabwe Eastern Highlands. We have decided to go to <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Malawi</place></country-region> via Tete. The camp site seemed a very good launching spot for the trip through the <place w:st="on"><placename w:st="on">Tete</placename> <placetype w:st="on">Province</placetype></place>, as the books tell you that it is not uncommon to experience temperatures of 50 Degrees C in this area. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAEyL7cpS-61tvUB7JV7ekCwdO6J0dK5CeRNMF_ZceqV_dc2IkRAAlJL7yq3x5F9KWaSyI1ZszcICSdf1-VSnwNaOwvf4D76U_ry9ACkA6nsgQThUjGHbInmFf4dmLU2CO8xHJmPtExyM/s1600/Where%2527s+Wally.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAEyL7cpS-61tvUB7JV7ekCwdO6J0dK5CeRNMF_ZceqV_dc2IkRAAlJL7yq3x5F9KWaSyI1ZszcICSdf1-VSnwNaOwvf4D76U_ry9ACkA6nsgQThUjGHbInmFf4dmLU2CO8xHJmPtExyM/s320/Where%2527s+Wally.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">As I am writing this I am crying with laughter. Ewa really must not give up her day job! She has taken my camera to photograph a pair of beautiful butterflies. The picture is attached!!! I promise the butterflies are there, see for yourself how beautiful the Green Banded Swallowtail is! I digress. <span style="color: red;">Yes it is there…you just have to blow it up a bit and it’s a lot better than the photo he tried to take!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The Manageress of the camp site showed us where to camp and proudly showed us the ablutions and cooking area. What can I say? What is it that that makes people care? Of the four loos, two male and two female, one was usable. The only other campers were a Zimbabwean couple named Steve and Rene and their very silent child Celeste. It must have had a real problem for Rene to pee, as Rene was a little ample about the hips and I very much doubt if she could pass through the opening to the loo. I say opening as it used to have a door! The lights were turned on by pushing up the circuit-breaker and the insect life was something to behold. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">As a mother of storms was about to descend upon us we decided to sleep in the dining area, but the insect life and their attraction to light caused a bit of a concern. However, Steve, a farmer, carried in the boot of his car a pesticide that was mixed by the gallon and had a scull and crossbones on the label. He sprayed over and around all openings, crevices, corners and surfaces. He assured me that nothing would pass any threshold for four months, judging by the skeletal deposits the next morning I had to admit he had a point; I was quite surprised to find Ewa alive<span style="color: red;">. Ha Ha! Can’t get rid of me so easily…who’s going to dig him or push him out!</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBrM0T8X8nTzMmDt6XyxkfN27JJQ9iCiVJRrFiACEPBjtJkZPv9GXQwzhFPh3EYqmk3MHFeg1G3eZb8RF7iyQ43QK3uOper_dXRg9PTDyqDFiK9zHqPuYNFm39zTjqEHbeNhGtKmCF9k0/s1600/Steve+Poison.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBrM0T8X8nTzMmDt6XyxkfN27JJQ9iCiVJRrFiACEPBjtJkZPv9GXQwzhFPh3EYqmk3MHFeg1G3eZb8RF7iyQ43QK3uOper_dXRg9PTDyqDFiK9zHqPuYNFm39zTjqEHbeNhGtKmCF9k0/s320/Steve+Poison.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The night saw the storm descended in a massive deluge of thunder and lightning which celebrated the start of the summer rains. The cloud cover <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>remained and made the journey through Tete very pleasant. The spectacular countryside really took me by surprise, but the ribbon of life along the EN1 did nothing to restore any confidence in the ability of the people. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The <place w:st="on">Zambezi</place> is crossed by a large suspension bridge at Tete. The bridge was under repair. There is no other way to cross the river. The two ferries appeared to require some mechanical attention. The traffic ran for half an hour in one direction then half an hour in the other. Only one truck was allowed on the bridge at any one time and the pedestrian traffic moved faster than the crossing vehicles. All this resulted in a line of trucks that must have been three kilometres long. The car traffic simply drove down the wrong side of the road passed the trucks, which cause little dismay to the oncoming traffic, they just moved onto the pavement! I am not sure how but I managed to take a different route that saw me behind truck number three who was to filter into the car traffic that was merging from another road that I appeared to have missed. Thanks to the only other car behind me, all I had to do was drive over the pavement around some signage, passed a couple of surprises, over the next pavement onto the road between the waiting cars. Easy really!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">It was not our intention to push through to <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Blantyre</place></city>, but it appeared to be doable and the alternative to parking on the cricket field of the Limbe Country Club was not very attractive. There was however one further test ahead of us that we sort of expected but our expectations to be exceeded. The test was the border crossing at Zobue. The usual money touts at the Mozambiquean Border were brushed aside, but then we hit the Malawian border post. I can only think that the reason for the harassment that one gets is that the authorities are in cahoots with the hustlers. I didn’t loose my cool, but it came close. Not one mile from the border post is the first police road block and the request for something spare change or something to drink, neither of which we agreed to. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We made the Limbe Country Club by nightfall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first President of the Limbe Country Club; TM Partridge Esq. 17<sup>th</sup> August 1923 to 31<sup>st</sup> August 1926 helped to establish a fine establishment visited by the Queen mother. I don’t think he allowed camping on the cricket field, but that aside I imagine the professional mix of the establishment in 1923 and the professional mix of the current establishment are very similar. The racial mix is somewhat different, but as evidenced at the bar on the night we were there, the social strata of the current establishment has change very little. Why is it then that the buildings and infrastructure are allowed to go to rack and ruin? If it has nothing to do with education, it can only be due to culture. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgILjuKmsRIzV4dVdk7NbTlTCO30d1PABPcmQmPH7x7ttLnuwrKuUZqVDK2I-gVOqWhMXuSSwU7IUGB9R2qh-OdNZ_x6iKylGhDlVsyxlRf3C6rFI2OHQkfACX0v3Wfi2BQozQsG6SqOmQ/s1600/LCC+Committee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgILjuKmsRIzV4dVdk7NbTlTCO30d1PABPcmQmPH7x7ttLnuwrKuUZqVDK2I-gVOqWhMXuSSwU7IUGB9R2qh-OdNZ_x6iKylGhDlVsyxlRf3C6rFI2OHQkfACX0v3Wfi2BQozQsG6SqOmQ/s320/LCC+Committee.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">It would appear that African Culture is not be sustainable.Is our Western culture sustainable? What is the difference? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">There are many differences, but the biggest one is the lack of long term planning, African Culture simply does not seem to think about tomorrow. They will use up their resources of any kind without a drop of consideration of the implications of the future. They will discard rubbish, not maintain buildings, overgraze land, not add oil to a squeaking wheel, have many children, take whatever aid they can get and simply use up every available resource. The only anomaly I can think of is the planning of death. Vast amounts of money are put away for funerals. There needs to be a cultural change.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The concept of planning, be it business, family or agriculture appears to be sadly lacking. Aid of any sort will certainly make a short term difference, but I see very little chance or evidence of long-term sustainability, and in the long run these efforts only create beggars.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Of all the African countries I have seen <place w:st="on"><country-region w:st="on">Malawi</country-region></place> has a real chance of sustained development. There is evidence of massive aid and support in <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Malawi</place></country-region>. There is evidence of diligent, hardworking, pleasant people; there is Religion everywhere, Muslin side by side with the Catholics and everything in between; </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">However, if all the aid agencies pulled out, would it survive? Certainly Limba Country Club is on a downward slide!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Where does that leave <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">South Africa</place></country-region>? My view is that the only way <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">South Africa</place></country-region> can succeed is in partnerships. The government needs to embrace the skills of all its people, not by enriching the elite with BEE nonsense and creating labour laws that are completely inappropriate. They need to create genuine partnerships in all aspects of life. The African needs to be mentored. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">There needs to be ownership of the land in the rural areas. As long the inhabitants of the fertile lands of the tribal areas have no ownership and title to the land, as long as wealth is counted in cattle and children, I have diminishing hope that <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">South Africa</place></country-region> will survive. The reason it could survive, is because the Dannie’s of this world have nowhere to go. The Afrikaner is an African without the cultural impediments.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">As for the <place w:st="on">Africa</place> through which we have travelled. There needs to be a radical change in Cultural the attitudes and beliefs that limit the development of the individual. They need to realise the consequence of throwing cans out the window. They need to care about tomorrow.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div>Doff Ewa Travelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524535080975940977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111423073461080115.post-82501261729145429072010-12-03T20:20:00.000-08:002010-12-03T22:37:27.753-08:00Blog 4 & 5<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Blog 4</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Shambles, disorganised mayhem, sweltering heat, <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Maputo</city></place> on a Saturday morning, as well as a credit card that does not work as I forgot to tell the card authorities where I was travelling. Could try my English Card, but if I can lose my car in <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">London</place></city>, how am I expected to remember my PIN?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">One can not help but feel a certain amount of despair for <place w:st="on">Africa</place>. Is there any hope for <place w:st="on">Africa</place>? I am really battling to see it. We have now covered 3500kms or so since leaving <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Cape Town</place></city>, and the further we travel the further we seem to be sinking into an abyss of chaos.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Swaziland</span></place></country-region><span style="font-family: Arial;"> was OK, friendly people, not very populated in the areas through which we travelled, the low land areas in the East. However one can’t help but notice that all the projects you come across appear to be the work of some outside aid company. Then you have a king who buys a private plane for $45 million, which creates a bit of a stir with the funding organisations especially the Americans, who threaten to withdraw aid, but don’t. But who made the plane in the first place? Americans! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We then spend the night at Hlane Royal National Park, a little Game Reserve in the East of Swaziland and who should be staying there but a group of 20 year olds from Australia and New Zealand who through the chewing gum<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and face makeup said they were on a conservation programme in Southern Africa. God help me where do they find these people and who the hell is paying for it?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Then you get to <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Mozambique</place></country-region>. Where the whole country appears to be in the process of Chinese colonization. Not only have they given the Chinese the right to decimate all their fishing grounds and remove all their hard woods, but</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">we are told by Denis, who runs the most amenable Casa Lisa Lodge 60 kms out of <city w:st="on">Maputo</city> that the Chinese authorities are emptying the gaols of their high security prisoners by sending them as labourers to <country-region w:st="on">Mozambique</country-region> on the understanding that they will never be allowed back to <place w:st="on"><country-region w:st="on">China</country-region></place>! A threat that I imagine really worries the Chinese Mafia and Triads who would be quite incapable of creating duplicate passports!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">So if the incumbent President, Mr Armando Guebuza continues to rule his fiefdom as he is currently doing, the future for <place w:st="on"><country-region w:st="on">Mozambique</country-region></place> is somewhat questionable, at least they will get on with the Nigerians in Hilbrow!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">It was fun chatting to Denis, at Casa Lisa. He is married to a local lady and jointly ran a restaurant in <place w:st="on">Pemba</place>, so he was a mine of information on what not to do and where to buy, and knows all the country intimately. He asked whether we had considered flying from <city w:st="on">Maputo</city> to <place w:st="on">Pemba</place>?! He also knew Brenda, the owner of the Pemba Bush and Dive Camp, who he described as “a few sandwiches’ short of a picnic” then proceeded to say that we would get on well with her!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">It is a long way to <place w:st="on">Pemba</place> and I am pleased that the boys are flying there for Ewa’s birthday and not driving as suggested by yours truly.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">When we arrived in <place w:st="on"><country-region w:st="on">India</country-region></place> in 1975, there were signs that said “Don’t give to Beggars, give to one create 10”. <place w:st="on">Africa</place> is desperate and it really hits you travelling through it. We should lobby for the removal of all unsustainable aid projects and Aid Organisations. Tough Love approach as recommended for our children, but this will never happen as it is the “helpers” who benefit most not the “helped”. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I really see very little hope, but there again I feel the same way about Americans at the other end of the scale.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">It took us two and a half hours to travel the 15kms on the EN1 out of <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Maputo</place></city> passed the massive Stadium built by the Chinese to host the African Games in June 2010. Maybe the Games are run by friends of Seb Blatter! The Chinese are widening the EN1 to the stadium. The 15 km traffic queue causes very little delay to the taxis and 20% of the road users who simply drive through any opening that presents itself. Pavements are good, the oncoming traffic is no deterrent their lane is fine! Lord of the Flies is happening in front of our eyes.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We were really please to arrive at Casa Lisa, sweaty, hot, parched and tense! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Being greeted by two Border Collies was a wonderful reminder of home.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Leaving Casa Lisa the border Collies, Denis and a very pleasant <country-region w:st="on">Belgium</country-region> couple, we are told of a camp site to visit in Chidenguele 260 kms from <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Maputo</place></city>. We thought we would stop and have a quick look at the place as it only took about 3 hours to get there. The EN1 to the turnoff was superb and the 5km dirt road to the place was perfect until the last 200m. It turned into a sandpit and we got stuck! Ewa really does not push nearly as hard as she used to push in her youth, so we had to call Dannie who pulled us out and we felt it would be rude to turn down his invitation to stay. Would you argue with Danie (picture attached)? The place is delightful. Fantastic facilities and we spent the afternoon having our first swim in a warm sea…no gain without pain.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Fire time, must cook the meat from Dave’s butchery in Hluhluwe. Unbelievable meat at amazing prices. Biltong at R134/kilo!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div>Blog 5</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">You can’t rush, first of all the Kombi is not capable of rushing. Secondly even if it could rush, the roads off the main EN1 would prevent it from doing so. Thirdly it would be a bit pointless coming all this way and not exploring all that this country has to offer, especially in the southern region South of Vilanculos as you travel within striking distance of the sea after that the road goes inland and we only meet up with the coast again at Pemba, which is about 2000 kms away.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Chidenguele, was really enjoyable and it was interesting chatting to Danie, who moved to Chidenguele seven years ago. While talking to him you realise how tough the Afrikaans boer is. He is big, strong and extremely firm with his staff, but also there was a mutual respect and everyone knows exactly where they stand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Behind the firmness you sense a soft compassionate soul. The contrast in management styles and philosophies of David at Bulungula and Danie at Chidenguele are stark . One thing is for sure, I wouldn’t mess with the Dannie’s of this world.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Inhambane lies on a sort of Cape with the Ponta de Linga Linga Bay, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>on one side and the <place w:st="on">Indian Ocean</place> on the other. Actually there are a number of protrusions into the bay and we were heading for The Barra Reef Camp Site which was meant to be nearly at the end of the furthest protrusion! We finally got to where it was meant to be, but unfortunately the value of the land has clearly gone beyond the income generated by a camp site, it has been carved up to accommodate a number of houses which would not be out of place at Silvermine Golf Estate, and I am sure there is a pretty good chance that that is exactly who currently owns them. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Not to be deterred my navigator suggested that we proceed to the end of the protrusion. Now I have not been in <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Mozambique</place></country-region> very long, but one thing I have noticed is that if you are driving a two wheel drive Kombi, the further you go down panicles the less chance you have of getting to the end. However, on the instructions from Dannie, if I let my tyre pressure down to 1.1 bar I can take a Kombi anywhere! I do as instructed but the problem is that I can’t see the road, it has petered out into a pond and there appears to only be beach on the other side. As luck would have it, a very pleasant fellow appears out of the blue with his 4*4 bakkie. I ask him if I am facing in the general direction of White Sands? “Yes” he says, “but follow me as that pond is quite deep!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I once again did as told and followed the Good Samaritan around the pond(s) onto the beach on the other side. The GS then signals that he is turning off to the right and I have to go it alone to the left. I had a funny sort of feeling as there was very little to be seen to the left but pressed on regardless fearing nothing as I now was armed with flat tyres. There appeared a sun bleached sign on which I just managed to see a tent sign. I had no option but to take the gap through the dunes. We made it over the palm leaves into what we thought was White Sands Camp Site, we were at Jan and Joey’s Areia Branca Lodge!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">One thing was for sure that was as far as we were going. A welcoming Barraca for not a great deal of money sheltered us against the thunderous onslaught of the rainy season, not before we had had a wonderful walk and swim in the tepid sea and a couple of cold beers chatting to Jan and Joey who we learnt had owned White Sands, which was next door! Lovely people who left Rustenberg then jobs in Secunda to run Areia Branca Lodge.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The rain was spectacular and I have no doubt that if they continue for much longer Joey & Jan will not be getting many guests driving Kombi’s.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We drove into Inhambane where I tried once more to access money from an ATM, with out success. A call to my Credit Card Company revealed my credit card had now been blocked and that the only way that I could unblock it would be to take my card and myself to my branch in <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Claremont</place></city>! I tried to explain that that would be a little bit difficult and informed him that to do that I would have to pay the petrol attendant who was now getting a little angry and was speaking to me in a language I did not understand. The CCC had no suggestions….. there was nothing written in the little book that dealt with that situation. He could block the card but could not unblock it!! What happened to bank managers who greeted you because you paid them exorbitant fees? Someone with discretion?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We left Inhambane angry if I had caught the bloke I saw trying the locks of the Kombi I would have killed him!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">When we left <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Durban</place></city> we were told by Dr Bill that if we get a chance we should try and visit Pomene. Dr Bill also said that the road was fine and we should easily make it in the Kombi with the by now customary flat tyres!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Dr Bill I would like to have some of what you were smoking, getting to Pomene is a 56 km dirt road that would give any well acquainted 4*4 driver stress. I don’t know how, but as with flat tyres and a touch of speed we managed to cover 54kms, two short of our final destination! The “middle mannetjie” was just too high! Jacking up the car and the use of various flotsam and jetsam off the beach, saw us into the Lodge where everything bottomed out, so there the Kombi stayed the night while we took up very comfortable lodgings in Barraca No 3! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Kirsten, the Lodge hostess, was unbelievably welcoming and informed us that they never had a 2*4 vehicle at the lodge before, and the week before a couple got stuck in their 4*4 and had to walk the 14km to get help from the lodge.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Pomene Lodge is spectacular, it sits on a peninsula with a lagoon on one side and the warm <place w:st="on">Indian Ocean</place> on the other. The familiar palm trees and squeaky white beaches. If one has to be stranded I could think of worse places to be! Snorkelled all morning, 40 winks under the palms, painting, writing and prawns for dinner is a hell of a way to “slum it”. Interestingly, ownership of the land be it leasehold or rent, does not include the palm trees, only the shade underneath! The reason for this is that during the war years the thing that kept may people alive was the coconut and they are making sure that should anything happen again they have a secure food source.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We were told that a Lodge vehicle would accompany us out at 8.00am. That should have been the case but a quick tow to the gate, all of 100m took half an hour, so it was decided that it would be better to wait for the other Landcruiser which had gone to fetch diesel, as our appointed vehicle had to fetch new arrivals from the landing strip, where ever that may be and at 100m per half hour he would most probably not make the appointed rendezvous with the incoming guests.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">So we wait, forced to stay in <place w:st="on">Paradise</place>! Finally got through to a higher being at the bank and seemed to have found a solution for getting money out, which is one good thing our prolonged stay has accomplished. Better go and paint a picture! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We are out and way! It was an epic drive which will be described in next blog, also comments from my wife on previous writings…..she says I downplay thing too much, so have decided that I will write and she can then add her wisdom , maybe in <span style="color: red;">Red</span> ! I think it is called bickering!</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Arial;">BULLSHIT!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Arial;">He makes it sound so easy and fun.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Arial;">Meantime reality is …..while he is playing intrepid Dr. Livingstone in khaki shorts soldiering on into the wilds sitting behind the wheel……..I have to jump out all the time, dig us out of the sand-dunes and push us back onto the “road”…….I know I’ve said lifting heavy weights help osteoporosis……but my osteoporosis isn’t that bad and next trip I’m going insist bringing a bigger spade!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Arial;">Then when the trusty steed just can’t make it anymore I am despatched into unknown territory bundubashing the next 2 kms to find Pomene Camp.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Arial;">Luckily they felt sorry for me and offered to tow us out on the way back. Thankfully Dr.Livingstone swallowed his pride and accepted.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Arial;">As I see from above he does describe it as an epic drive, which in fact was very much assisted by St.Christopher watching over us……in fact he has been very busy with us this trip so far.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Arial;">Must dash now to do the washing, cooking, checking tyre pressures etc.etc.</span></div><br />
Never Happy. They just don't make them like they used too! Danie wouldn't stand for it !<br />
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</div>Doff Ewa Travelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524535080975940977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111423073461080115.post-914971799432966682010-11-25T23:58:00.000-08:002010-11-25T23:58:24.061-08:00Scorpians and things<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Blog 3</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The trouble with going to Heaven, is it is quite hard to return! It took two and a half hours to cover the 80kms back to the main road. It is such a relief when your teeth stop chattering, however even on the good tar road you can not stop concentrating for a moment. The wandering sheep, goats, cattle and people are one thing. It is the taxis that are a real worry. First of all it is not only the speed they travel loaded the way they are and the condition of most of the vehicles that is really scary, it is the way they overtake. There is absolutely no regard for white lines and blind rises. You really do have to assume that there is a very good chance that you will be heading straight at a speeding taxi every time you come over a rise, that way you can drive accordingly and are not completely overawed when such an event does happen. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Once you get accustomed to the driving you then have to manage driving through the main towns of Butterworth, Dutywa and Mthatha. It would appear that it does not matter what day you are travelling, these towns are abuzz with people, cars, taxis and livestock. The regard for moving vehicles is zero. I can only describe Mthatha as a complete shambles. Broken water mains pipes flooding across the road, detour signs that usher you in one direction with no subsequent signs, the majority of traffic lights not working making the crossing of each intersection a Russian Roullette game. If you talk to people about it they just say “<place w:st="on">Africa</place>”. I don’t buy that, it does not have to be this way. The drive is spectacular winding up and down the mountains, but the evidence of overgrazing and erosion is depressing</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">If was a relief to get to Harding and turn off down the stunningly beautiful road <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to Port Shepstone, with its indigenous forests and massive trees and the massive pine forests of organised agriculture highlighting the potential Transkei. My view is that without ownership of land in these rural areas of <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">South Africa</place></country-region> there is very little hope of these incredibly fertile areas ever reaching their potential. I think as far as agriculture is concerned we need to abolish the Tribal land distribution system. Do we have a politician brave enough to do that?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><city w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Natal</span></city><span style="font-family: Arial;"> is so different from the <place w:st="on">Cape</place> in every way, but besides the obvious thing, I think that what we did find was a much more engrained colonial attitude, quite parochial. The weather did not help our attitude, it went from cold to decidedly chilly, from overcast to stormy. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">However, delightful stays with really good people saw us in high spirits as we entered the Hluhluwe Game Reserve, even in a drizzle driving into any<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>of the reserves really fuels my soul.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">There is a definite advantage of being at the bottom end of the budget scale! There is no camping in Hluhluwe and the cheapest huts cost R350 per person. We stayed at Hilltop, which is a truly magnificent Camp. A request for relief for two very OAP’s saw us get a 20% discount! But that wasn’t the point. The point is that the accommodation at the bottom wrung of the ladder has shared ablutions and shared kitchen facilities and the facilities are really good. We were cooking our evening meal when we were joined by a delightful couple who were on honeymoon. They asked us where we were going etc, and we told them where we were going, and mentioned that the motorbike was on its way to <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Buenos Aires</place></city> where we would be joining it in January. Where were they From? <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Buenos Aires</place></city>! Not only was that a stroke of luck, but Fernandos is a travel agent and he and his wife Natalia spent an hour pouring over maps with us and showing us wonderful pics of place to go, as well as offering us their contact details for when we arrive. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Had we been in the more expensive accommodation with everything included, such chance meeting would not have happened, that is why we travel as we do!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Hluhluwe is wonderful, and the vegetation, birds, animals and scenery is spectacular, well worth the visit.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Being the only campers at the Sand Lodge on the edge of the St Lucia Reserve has more than fuelled our spirits for the unpredictability of the <place w:st="on">Africa</place> ahead.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I must say finding a Scorpion in the loo roll took me by surprise! Must be more vigilant. There are also some scary looking caterpillars!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeLvE-qyWwNdftm8HK9YOcqzGWrrmGDfx4BmxkveS3A3d_iymKXesUgtlPwtolnGy5g74W1JUS3T8DW8n-KlauKu0T-mZZ2j5G69PEgdelEJbr2nmiXGF7r7uRN4XgmONxp1QxFjC3oWA/s1600/Hluhluwe+035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeLvE-qyWwNdftm8HK9YOcqzGWrrmGDfx4BmxkveS3A3d_iymKXesUgtlPwtolnGy5g74W1JUS3T8DW8n-KlauKu0T-mZZ2j5G69PEgdelEJbr2nmiXGF7r7uRN4XgmONxp1QxFjC3oWA/s1600/Hluhluwe+035.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiuim71gcK2Ic1I9Hec3ephb3zvACEX_QsABdFBrgItG4hnCJeq903uMq-chn9EgFC86ff6J6g9thUTah0vuhHORgo0Y9mfLQisPk7Fvqd2vp_QzQ7ULr7Jii3O-8JJkq0lR-ZFeEQhd0/s1600/Hluhluwe+070.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiuim71gcK2Ic1I9Hec3ephb3zvACEX_QsABdFBrgItG4hnCJeq903uMq-chn9EgFC86ff6J6g9thUTah0vuhHORgo0Y9mfLQisPk7Fvqd2vp_QzQ7ULr7Jii3O-8JJkq0lR-ZFeEQhd0/s320/Hluhluwe+070.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Doff Ewa Travelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524535080975940977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111423073461080115.post-79456279382584050582010-11-23T23:38:00.000-08:002010-11-24T01:36:08.576-08:00The road to Heaven.........<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">BLOG 2</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The Road to Heaven is paved with good intentions, well it is pretty good until the turn-off to Coffee Bay, there after it goes from bad to worse…..I will get back to this a bit later.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">My first blog was simply an exercise in getting started, like every venture into the unknown starting is the scariest part. I have decided that I really couldn’t be bothered to record every place and thing just for the sake of record, as I know I would never want to read it again for want of complete boredom, so I doubt if anyone else would be interested in what I had for breakfast at Joe Blogs Café, unless of course it was an exceptional meal.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">This blogging thing is primarialy a record for Ewa and me and the things I am interested in recording are the exceptional things; places; circumstances; people etc. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I have just looked at my last blog and it seemed to end somewhat abruptly, maybe it had something to do with the foul weather at the time. I thought it was going to warm up as we went North. The converse has been true. Before I depart from the Rendezvous Camp Site and Chintsa in general, I have to say that it has to be one of the most beautiful camp sites we have been to. First of all it is run by an absolutely extraordinary person Ralph Jones. Ralph is 84 years old, he is a great grand father four times over, he had four children, three boys and a girl. His wife died when he was 80, his three son’s have all died, one in a motor accident, one from an accidental gun shot and the youngest from throat cancer. He is about five foot nothing, has about six teeth, not an once of fat, has a passion for collecting stone-age artefacts and has nothing but positive things to say about life. If I was looking for characters for a book or movie Ralph would be on my list. A truly inspirational person, who manages an inspirational place.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The bird life in the camp site is absolutely amazing. When you lie in bed and listen to the morning song it is amazing I don’t know when I have seen or heard such a variety of birds, Paradise Fly catchers, Fork Tale Drongas, Black headed Oriels, Olive Thrush, Crested Barbet, Scarlet Breasted Sunbirds, even a Scop’s Owl. 164 species in a camp site. Quite amazing</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I have taken lots of pics of all sorts of things, I was flipping through some the other evening and it made me realise how much we are unaware of, or simply don’t see. I am attaching two pictures, the first is of some patterns in the sand (and my toes!) the second is a blown up part of the same picture. Reminds me of the Looking for Wally book we used to read to the kids.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLcH_rAqI0xls9Z4LC-Gr2wj0I5dSscMKohEvaRZZHIktalTykkbj0oMKHzRlBUVDWmlbkJw3yYRnaQ_hyphenhyphenV4MN4loEECIAvUCsznltQ2GpnK8ztQgNXX55ss3el4DKRQ0njDeOjqgSZKg/s1600/Beach+Sand+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLcH_rAqI0xls9Z4LC-Gr2wj0I5dSscMKohEvaRZZHIktalTykkbj0oMKHzRlBUVDWmlbkJw3yYRnaQ_hyphenhyphenV4MN4loEECIAvUCsznltQ2GpnK8ztQgNXX55ss3el4DKRQ0njDeOjqgSZKg/s320/Beach+Sand+2.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYEkE20zYLPq39A9WXNvbg2423aJP7iue-YftEXh87Iefyruyvjb8_GHV6Vag90QmB4Bnz_r0VGTeIlDhWWE-rO8U7sCtc1jMdUQGVZzK0af2spRBLIuyn1_BcL6RdtcA1w2m8oA3c9kE/s1600/Beach+figure2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYEkE20zYLPq39A9WXNvbg2423aJP7iue-YftEXh87Iefyruyvjb8_GHV6Vag90QmB4Bnz_r0VGTeIlDhWWE-rO8U7sCtc1jMdUQGVZzK0af2spRBLIuyn1_BcL6RdtcA1w2m8oA3c9kE/s320/Beach+figure2.jpg" width="168" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">There are so many beautiful things that we simply rush past without a care. I mentioned to Ewa that I remember going down to <place w:st="on"><placename w:st="on">Bonza</placename> <placetype w:st="on">Bay</placetype></place> as a kid and collecting Cowries Shells. You won’t believe how adept Ewa has now become at spotting them. So much simply passes us by……</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I called this blog “The road to Heaven” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I have said I will only write about the exceptional.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We drove from Chintsa to Bulungula. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Up to the Coffee Bay turn off the road<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>is exceptionally good, from the turn off onwards it goes from sort of OK, to not so OK, to bad, to terrible, to exceptionally terrible to bloody nearly impassable, then 6kms of new dirt as a sort of sop to the 90ks before, which took two and a half hours. then you arrive at Heaven! Bulungula Lodge</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I wasn’t sure what to expect other than one of those exceptionally beautiful Transkei Resorts with river mouth, lagoon and endless white sands. It has all that, but firstly it could hardly be described as a resort and lodge is a tad pretentious! Bulungula Lodge forms part of the Bulungula Incubator project which was started in 2004 by Dave Champion and his economist wife Rejane as a joint venture with the <place w:st="on"><placename w:st="on">Nquileni</placename> <placetype w:st="on">Village</placetype></place>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is absolutely no crime; you have to lock up nothing. There are notices that stress that visitors must not give any handouts to anyone and nobody asks for anything anyway. Three years ago his mother left the rarefied air of Deputy Principle of Herschel Prep in <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Cape Town</city></place>, to start the preschool. The school is thriving, the mothers of the children have to cook a mid-day meal for their children in lieu of school fees, and most of the ingredients are supplied by the agricultural projects. The ethos is “Self Help” and it is working One really feels it is a privilege to be able to stay there. The accommodation is a traditional rondaval with dung floors. The “lodge” is simple but more than adequate. The eco friendly no-water lavatories and the “Rocket” showers are a talking point and work brilliantly. The crafty décor and painting are stunning, but more than anything there is a wonderfully peaceful relationship with the community, and one feels it is a real lesson in UBUNTU. A visit to Bulungula Lodge is an experience, the road to this heaven is a rocky one, but worth the pain. Check it out on <a href="http://www.bulungulaincubator.org/"><span style="color: blue;">www.bulungulaincubator.org</span></a>. An exceptional place run by exceptional people who give caring a new dimension.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAUYzKkW-m5YOhOSx4ICwpLBlmCUE5K3SutRLbK3Oj-BwsfQOCdzKdfM6ny1gv4cyFqyeCSPcrNufdG-idKN73dcch9x6DorWMrx8rc8WBQ3D8L2NruF19HZxCjoKSbS0qGNeHW-BZGls/s1600/Mussel+Collectors.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAUYzKkW-m5YOhOSx4ICwpLBlmCUE5K3SutRLbK3Oj-BwsfQOCdzKdfM6ny1gv4cyFqyeCSPcrNufdG-idKN73dcch9x6DorWMrx8rc8WBQ3D8L2NruF19HZxCjoKSbS0qGNeHW-BZGls/s320/Mussel+Collectors.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Arial;">I try to paint a picture every day. These are tiny pictures that I do as a sort of diary, so they are really references and only take half an hour to do, but hopefully at the end of the trip I will get a little better than at the present moment. However I rather liked this one of the Mussel collecting ladies walking on the beach!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div>Doff Ewa Travelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524535080975940977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111423073461080115.post-28775876153911622262010-11-18T06:00:00.000-08:002010-11-18T06:41:27.474-08:00Who Cares<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I don’t know anything about blogging and I don’t like the word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">blog, </i>but I am told that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">blogging </i>is the thing to do and it works, so I will give it a go and reserve my comments for later.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Well we have begun. There are so many things running through my mind that I feel quite panicky, that is why I am up this Sunday morning 14<sup>th</sup> November at 6 am our first morning away. I have been lying in bed trying to figure out how I am going to structure our time, as if I (if I say “I” I most probably mean “we”, and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>if I say “mine” I most probably mean “our” like my children…I digress!) do not have a structure I will never be able to do all that I want to do on this journey of OURS As we all know it is indeed structure that gives freedom, but more about that later. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">So what I think I should do is have a Preface to this journey or story of ours as it is indeed the stories that interest me (us!)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">PREFACE</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I had the unbelievably good fortune of meeting Ewa at International Students House (ISH) while studying in <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">London</city></place>. Good fortune because it was an amazing place to stay!! I am joking, because she was and is an amazing lady and an amazingly good dentist. But the real good fortune is ISH is truly what it says, it is a hostel of International students.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">About five or seven years ago, news of the death of Pavan Sawney, one of the real characters that we met at ISH, triggered this idea in my head of doing a Friendship Tour around the world to make contact again with all the wonderful characters and friends that we met at ISH as well as in our travels since. I have been on at Ewa about this idea ever since, but there has always been a reason why we couldn’t do it, more often than not it was money, but for many other reasons as well, like the abandonment of the duties or responsibilities that we all have. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Then one stunningly beautiful summer evening in Cape Town, Justin my (our!) son who is in the film industry and was filming on Llandudno beach, called us and said we HAD to come down to Llandudno for a sun downer as it was an absolutely beautiful afternoon down on the beach. Well as we all know the traffic at 5 in the evening is bloody awful, so I said to Ewa “Why don’t we go down on the motorbike?” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Now I have to tell you that the motorbike in question was given to me by Willie Landman, a truly wonderful person and really great friend of ours, when he and the family immigrated to <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">New Zealand</place></country-region>.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">So on the bike we hopped and beetled off to Llandudno for a glass of wine while watching a spectacular sun fall into the <place w:st="on">Atlantic Ocean</place>, after which, full of good feelings and wellbeing we drove home via <street w:st="on"></span> <br />
<address w:st="on">Rhodes Drive</address></street>, which on a day like that really is a stunning drive. When we got home Ewa hopped of the bike and said “Why don’t we do the Friendship Tour on a motorbike?” to which I replied “Why don’t we do the Friendship Tour on this bike and ride up to Willie’s door in New Zealand and not tell him we are coming?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">So that is what we are going to do! So please don’t tell him if you know him!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Once this seed was planted I just had to see it come to fruition. However Ewa said that if we were going to do the Friendship Tour, she was not sure that <country-region w:st="on">New Zealand</country-region> would be her preferred starting point and suggested <place w:st="on">South America</place>. The appeal of <place w:st="on">South America</place> to me was that before the grey cells disappeared completely, I MAY be able to pick up a bit of Spanish. So <place w:st="on">South America</place> it was, but still there were all sorts of reasons why we couldn’t start. Then in Feb 2009 Brother Rich invited us up to Kabula Lodge on the West side of the <placename w:st="on">Zambezi</placename> <placetype w:st="on">River</placetype> in <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Zambia</place></country-region>. This sounded like a great opportunity to test our endurance on the bike. If we were intending to travel around <place w:st="on">South America</place> on a motorbike a test drive closer to home seemed the sensible thing to do. So August 2009 off we went and there in lies another story. 8500 kms later we stopped for our last homeward bound breakfast at Die Tol restaurant in Piekenaars Kloof. We had just sat down when I turned on my phone for the first time in ages and there was an urgent message from home. I called home thinking that maybe Asterix our 19 year old Maltese had died. However it was sadder news. Our very, very good friend Butch Baker had died of a heart attack while walking his dogs above Noordhoek. He was 59.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">That was all I needed, that was the decider. We HAD to go now before it was too late. Riding a big bike at 62 with Ewa on the back requires a certain level of strength and health and time is running out. That is the one thing, but as Brother Rich says “Why in the name of God do you want to go on a motorbike”?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The answer to Brother Rich’s question is simple. It is a better story. When Ewa and I travel we like to do it from the inside looking out. I am happy to look AT things, but I prefer being on the other side and looking out at things. The best experiences are had from the inside looking out. My experience is that the poorer the people the more generous the people and you are unlikely to meet these people if you look at them through the electric window of a big 4*4, and <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>there is no way I can fix a big modern 4*4. Walking would be the best option, but we don’t have the time. Cycling would be OK but I have never been a fan of cycling. Public transport is another type of story as we found out when in 1975 we saw a red double decker bus in <street w:st="on"></span> <br />
<address w:st="on">Constitution Square</address></street>in <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Delhi</place></city> that said Victoria Street Station on the front and we got on and were taken for the ride of our lives! We have done public transport. So a motorbike seems like a good option.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I have never been one to lie on a beach doing nothing, going around the world on a motor bike is one thing, and I am sure we will come across all sorts of things and people that will make it an exceptional experience, but it is the exceptional people and the things that they do, that really interest me. Besides the obvious things one enjoys while travelling it is the person “Who Cares” that I will seek out and the people who don’t care? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Who Cares!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">THE BEGINNING:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Saturday 13<sup>th</sup> November 9.00 am, we are away! I never leave at 9.00am always when the sun comes up, “why?” because that’s what we do! But Friday evening we were having a great time and conversation over a last supper with Alex and his friends, we had earlier been persuaded by our wonderful neighbours to share a glass of farewell champagne and it would have been very rude of us to turn down that sort of hospitality! So I said to Ewa “As we only have to be back in June 2011, it is not going to make a great deal of difference if we depart at 6.00am or not, better enjoy the moment”, so we did as well as the champagne!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Alex Hooper owner of Highgate Ostrich Farm is one of my greatest friends from my schooldays and we have many stories to reminisce about. I called him up before we left to see if he was going to be at home in Oudtshoorn on the evening of the 13<sup>th</sup>. As it happened he was coming to CT to see his daughters and grand children prior to his departure for <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Oman</place></country-region> in two weeks, where he is going with 15 Ostriches, and five ostrich jockeys to provide entertainment for the Sultan of Oman! So he caught the regular bus to CT and took the Hawkins bus back to Oudtshoorn where he was personally collected from the Lord Charles in Somerset West!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">As usual he was very abusive about the Kombi, but recognised the limited hijacking risk associated with and old vehicle. I would have taken the N1 to Worcester, Robertson, Ashton, Montague, Barrydale and was about to do so, when Alex said that route would add an hour to the trip, and suggested that Sir Lowery’s Pass, Swellendam, the Tradouw Pass to Barrydale was a quicker option. Due to an excess of conversation and a shortage of concentration, we missed the Botrivier turnoff and went sailing on to Hermanus!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But once a left at the next intersection saw us safely back on the N2, which saw us on our merry way to Swellendam, well sort of merry. Just after <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Caledon</place></city> the Kombi lurched for a split second as though it was running out of petrol. Bearing in mind that the engine had just been completely rebuilt and was purring like a grinning cat when we left Cape Town, as well as the fact that this was the vehicle that was to be our only home for the next two months and had just begun a trip to Northern Mozambique via Malawi, any alteration in the purring sound of the cat made my heart sink. I felt sick, but the problem did not recurr, so on we pressed to Swellendam and the <place w:st="on"><placename w:st="on">Tradouw</placename> <placetype w:st="on">Pass.</placetype></place> What a spectacular pass and well worth the change from our normal route to Oudtshhoorn. We did not have time to stop at Suurbraak the picturesque village you pass before ascending the pass, but certainly next time this will be on our agenda. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Emerging from the spectacular <place w:st="on"><placename w:st="on">Tradouw</placename> <placetype w:st="on">Pass</placetype></place> you pass through Barrydale. Had we left at our usual departing time of 6.00am Barrydale would have been the perfect place to breakfast at one of the many inviting farm store type establishments, but the heat of the day and the desire to quench our thirst made Ronnie’s Sex Shop the perfect place to take a breather! Much has been written about Ronnie’s Sex Shop, but I am sure nothing has been written about Ronnie Who Cares. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Because Alex has spent all his life in the Hospitality and Tourism Business, he knows Ronnie quite well. For those who don’t know Ronnie I would describe him as a Hippy Biker of the 60’s. We had a pleasant drink surrounded by the bra’s, panties and graffiti that it is well known for, but as we were about to leave Ronnie takes Alex to the back of the shop and shows him a wine box that was so full of small change money that it would be impossible to pick up. It is a collection that Ronnie has begun for the mentally handicapped school in Oudtshoorn where Sonje, Alex’s partner, teaches. I was and am bowled over. Can you imagine if we all made these little contributions in life, what a difference we could make to a whole variety of needy institutions and people. Ronnies Sex Shop would have been the last place I would have looked for someone Who Cares.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">There is something special about being with old friends, perhaps I am at the point where I should say “friends I have known for a long time!” The one thing that you realise is that people don’t really change, they may look a little more wrinkled, fat or thin, but intrinsically we remain the same. I like that. I have not seen a great deal of Alex Hooper over the years, but we have remained in quite regular contact and he has certainly not changed a great deal since our school days and his partner Sonje is delightful. If your job is working with disabled people you can’t be anything else but caring They Care.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Oudtshoorn has never been a place that really grabs me, but I must say the main drag is littered with really quaint houses and a number of restaurants that I would have loved to try out and I certainly can not complain about all aspects of the restaurant where we had our evening meal Bella something or other!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The drive too, through and over the Swartberg pass is absolutely spectacular and I can’t think why I have never done it before. It would have been a whole lot more enjoyable had the Kombi not decided to stop on a blind bend. Stopping on a blind bend is not good for the blood pressure, and if you are going to stop on a blind bend better not consider this if there is a cycle race coming at you from the other direction. What happens is that the other cars need to overtake you as they certainly don’t care, the competitors are doing there damndest to negotiate the hairpin bend at speed on a gravel road so their only concern is staying alive. It had all the elements of a serious disaster. The air was turned blue by the abuse being hurled at me. Not a good situation. Thank the Lord I managed to start the kombi for long enough to get round the corner and up about 20m up the 1:1 gradient when it cut out for completely. I sent Ewa ahead to warn the descending cyclists, and I went back to the previously mentioned hairpin bend to warn the ascending vehicles. Then I discovered that there IS a God! The very first vehicle that came were friends of ours from <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Cape Town</city></place> taking their Dutch cousins on a scenic road trip! They drove straight pass me but recognised Ewa who I think was now standing naked to catch people’s attention! Desperate times require desperate measures. The result of al this is that I managed to find and fix the fault on the Kombi and besides the raised adrenalin level of a number of people we live to enjoy another day and the rest of the spectacular drive through the Swartburg down into Prince Albert. Apparently the Cycle Race was called Die Hell and Back. Madness, but I guess it takes all sorts.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Prince Albert is quaint, and well worth a visit, but as with a number of these “discovered” little towns, you get the feeling of an underlining discontent between the new arrivals and the old residents, the have’s and the have nots.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Great hospitality over the weekend from another very old friend, some unbelievably good valued wine from Bergwater, and a good nights rest saw us on our way to Addo Game Reserve.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">To me Addo was an Elephant Reserve and that was that, the thought that we would not find ANY accommodation or camp sites did not even occur to me! But that was the case. All accommodation was fully booked for the next fortnight and this is the low season. So clearly the expansion of this Reserve and the whole of the Eastern Cape as a Game Area, plus the lack of Malaria are all working well and the bringing in the Tourist $. Advice? Book before you get there!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Homeless yet again we drove on to more wonderful friends up the <place w:st="on"><placename w:st="on">Baviaans</placename> <placetype w:st="on">River</placetype></place>. There is something special about these remote farmers who are descendents of the 1820 Settlers. First of all they tough and self sufficient. When I said to Will “don’t you get cut off when the rivers come down?” “Not really, maybe for three day or so, but its not a problem” was his reply. In the outside world the lack of movement for three days would be a mind blowing problem! The other thing is there is almost a symbiotic relationship between the people, the land and all that is on it. They really do care for one another.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Further cups of tea, laughter and tears with more friends in Bedford and Adelaide, saw us heading for The Hog’s Back, but the mist and rain drove us to lower pastures and we headed for the coast through the Ciskei and all the villages where I had spent two years of my life trying to make a difference by setting up Ciskei Small Industries. One notable project was the manufacture of 20,000 Teddy Bears in the villages of the <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Ciskei</place></country-region>! To this day I can not help but smell the Teddy Bears in the OK Bazaars, as making Bears in the huts of the Ciskei on a winters day tends to give the soft cuddly toys an aroma that was not part of the original order!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Did I make a difference? The buildings are still there and occupied but the ethos died when the CNDC muscled in on the scene. Maybe I made a difference to three families at the most. I hope so. Ewa says I should have stayed on. I thought back then in 1979 that it would be possible to be above politics and if you intentions were sincere it would be possible to operate. I was proved wrong.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I thought it would get warmer as we moved North? Wrong again, but who is complaining we are in Chintsa in what must be in one of the most beautiful camp sites in SA. I promised myself that I would paint every day and to date that is the case.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div>Doff Ewa Travelshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524535080975940977noreply@blogger.com1