Lots of folks have been asking how we are settling back into life here in San Francisco. The answer is…rather ungracefully. First there was the great closet explosion of 2008, a boom no doubt heard across the globe. In January it seemed like such a good idea to jam all of our belongings into a space half the necessary size, use our full body weight to close the door and then put a Master lock on it. Then there’s the fact that we were home two weeks before we went grocery shopping. I got so desperate for a cookie the other night that I baked sugar cookies without eggs because the three-block walk to the corner store was just too far. All you gourmands out there please note that eggs are in fact necessary as the recipe indicates. But hey, desperate times call for desperate measures and the eggless cookies make a good breakfast along with a questionable slice of Swiss cheese procured by a former tenant. So needless to say, we are taking it slow and consuming a rather alarming amount of pizza while making nummy lip-smacking sounds.
Where did we leave off? The last we wrote we had just been to Swaziland, one of my personal favorites of the whole trip. While the countries we visited and the natural and unnatural attractions therein were the driving force behind our mission to experience everything, it often ended up being the people we met along the way that made our travels so very memorable. Without the people, we never would have been called NERDS constantly (can’t really argue with that one), witnessed the double-armed butterfly armpit attack, seen a man run naked down 200 feet of steep sand dune, crossed a human bridge or been forced to down a half a bottle of champagne in five minutes (okay, there wasn’t that much forcing going on). About the time we were wandering through the tall grass in the Okavango Delta hoping that we wouldn’t be eaten by a “don’t be silly it won’t hurt you because it is so cute and cuddly and the teeth and claws are only for playing and you can rub its tummy” lion, our new friendships were really starting to build amongst our fellow African adventurers. I guess the shared terror of self-observed near death experiences can do that.
By the time we hit Mozambique, about halfway through the journey, we started realizing that most of the people on the truck were the good kind of lunatic, which suited us just fine. The harrowing hike in Swaziland certainly brought us together and the beautiful sandy beaches, lush landscape, and crystal clear waters of southern Africa’s eastern most country certainly made everything ripe for the camaraderie that accompanies such overwhelming beauty. There was a whole lot of laughing going on, most of it the kind not suitable for public consumption thanks to some colorful vocabulary lessons from the Brits and Aussies.
The countryside in Mozambique couldn’t have been more different than what we had seen previously in Africa. Lush green and gazillions of palms dotted the roadway. We thought we were in Costa Rica again. After a whole lot of driving, the adventure in Mozambique truly began on an Arabic dhow trip, launched from the sleepy town of Vilanculos, sailing through the Bazaruto archipelago which is drop dead stunningly beautiful. The dhow trip was not included with our Dragoman tour, and it was rather pricey for the overlanding circuit, so we were a bit shocked when we waded into waist deep water with all of our belongings to climb aboard a boat that was last serviced around the time that Gilligan was leaving the island. But our fears were unwarranted because it turned out to be complete pampering for two days. There was an actual sand fire pit on the boat…on the wooden boat. Okay so it wouldn’t exactly meet fire safety standards in the US but the concept rocked my world, especially since we could sip coffee and munch on freshly popped popcorn as we were sailing through the crystal blue waters. The crew also made the most delectable seafood meals, the best we had on whole trip. Eating fresh crab on deserted beach and you don’t even have to do your own dishes? Hello, sign me up forever.
We sailed from island to island, stopping to snorkel in what felt like a living aquarium with huge schools of fish that couldn’t be bothered to swim out of our paths. This was great for us because as you know, we identify with all things lazy. Dan almost put his hand down on a lion fish which resulted in some seriously high pitched sounds coming out of his snorkel that made me laugh so hard I probably swallowed a gallon of sea water.
We set up our tents on an isolated beach and local women came by carrying baskets of fresh oysters on their heads, a perfect addition to our already spectacular evening meal. Camping on the beach was heavenly, hearing the lapping of the waves while sipping cocktails, lots and lots of cocktails, by the fire. I had so many cocktails that I was convinced there was a demon in the fire. It had eyes and was breathing fire out of its mouth. I’m telling you, it was staring right at me. My friend Christine came to my rescue and beat it into submission with a nearby stick. Thanks, Christine!
The next day we stopped on islands to frolic on pristine sand dunes (where the above mentioned man running naked down a sand dune took place), did some more snorkeling and had one last perfect meal on yet another deserted beach and seriously contemplated going Tom Hanks ala Cast Away and staying forever. But, that never would have panned out since Dan can’t grow a proper beard.
From Vilanculos we moved south to Morongulo and camped along yet another amazing, practically deserted beach. The water was a deeper blue here but still stunning. Fisherman would wander through the camp selling their catch so we procured a huge fish to grill over the fire, and the true prize was three enormous crayfish as big as lobsters and even tastier. That night we ran around the beach, in and out of the warm Indian Ocean, staring up at stars so bright they are burned into my memory forever. I love Mozambique – you must go there before these beaches are dotted with Starwood resorts.
The last night of our week in Mozambique was spent celebrating our good friend Cinzia’s birthday in the capital city of Maputo. The drive through the city was overwhelming as we passed block-long heaps of trash, impromptu street markets blocking entire intersections and looks from the locals that were not all together welcoming. It was one of the more surreal nights of the trip because the restaurant recommended to us by a local was located in the city fairgrounds, which were deserted, half lit and eerie. It seemed like the kind of place you go to get murdered, though we were hoping more for the bumper cars. Luckily we skirted death AND had the most ginormous prawns I have ever seen.
With a heavy heart we left Mozambique, drove back through Swaziland and entered South Africa to visit Hluhluwe Game Reserve. Your guess is as good as mine for pronunciation, Dan and I just mumble over the word and hope that people are too intimidated to ask for clarification. Right about now we began to feel a little game-parked out. Every time we saw an animal it was glorious, but the hours of driving and seeing nothing in between started to make us a little whacky. Dan even gave me a tattoo with a very sweet message. The highlights of Hluhluwe were definitely the large number of rhinos, crazy park signage and getting to see a cape buffalo up close. We were also lucky enough to see a baby rhino and it was the cutest, ugliest little thing I ever did see.
From Hluhlhuhlhulhuwe (as pronounced by me) we drove south through Zululand to see the battlefields where the Zulu kicked the Brits butts at the Battle of Isandlwana and then the Brits kicked the Zulus butts in the Battle at Rorke's Drift all in a period of 24 hours in 1879. Our tour guide was descendent of one of the great Zulu chiefs involved in the battles and really brought the history alive for us (almost too alive with so many details), though I am doing it no justice in my summary above!
From Zululand we were soon cruising through the ever-charming Addo Elephant Park, where to everyone’s astonishment, we saw lots of elephants. I don’t think I could ever get sick of seeing herds of elephants. They are goofy and majestic, graceful and clumsy all at the same time.
From Addo we wended through the dramatic mountains of Lesotho (pronounced ley-su-too), home of the Basotho people, the majority of who are subsistence farmers. Our home for three nights was Malealea Lodge, which is now one of my favorite places on the planet. Malealea Lodge gives back to the community, developing schools and opening revenue streams for the villagers living in the surrounding valley. It is the ONLY place I have ever hired a guide and paid the guide directly for the services – the lodge takes no cut. The effects on the community are clear, and you notice it in little ways. It is the only poverty-stricken country we visited where children did not ask us for money, though Lesotho is one of the poorest countries in the world. The children around Malealea were heartbreakingly cute. They love having their photo taken, and line up together and all say “cheeeeeese” at the same time. Showing them the photos on the digital camera resulted in endless giggles and huge smiles. I wanted to steal one and take them home, but I guess that is creepy and also probably illegal.
Our time in Lesotho was spent hiking and pony-trekking with our new gang. Our hike took us through local villages and gorges, up and down mountains, to ancient cave drawings and a pristine waterfall. A full six hours in total, all accompanied by two dogs that showed up out of nowhere, one of which was tagged with the unfortunate name “Shitbreath” because he continually ate poo and then puked it up. Not the smartest dog I’ve ever met, but you’ve got to hand it to him for never giving up on his dream. Props to you, Shitbreath. The nights at Malealea were also among my favorite of the trip. One, I kid you not, was spent watching people light their farts on fire. Now, I must have lived under a rock before the trip because I did not know this was actually possible. I don’t think I’ve laughed so hard in years. The world is just so much bigger now. We even have video footage.
Don’t worry folks, our last night at Malealea at least had a cultural component to it because we listened to a local choir perform, and then a local band who makes their own instruments. By this time we had seen many cultural performances in Africa, and this was the first that really moved me. The harmony of the choir was so amazing that I cried. Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on how you look at it) the classy cultural event eventually degraded into the wildest party of the whole trip, complete with someone getting their pony tail cut off with a steak knife at the dinner table, followed by a full blown dance party on the truck. There were lots of hugs and “I love you, mans” in addition to plenty of awkward moments because there is so little space. As it turns out our headlamps, which were better known as the “nerd lamps” only when worn by us, also double as strobe lights. Sorry for my digression, but every time our friend Jacko saw us with our headlamps on he would start belting out, “Turn on your neeeerd light,” to the tune of “Turn on your Heart Light” by Neil Diamond.
After we left Lesotho we stayed at the creepiest campsite on the planet. Perhaps you would enjoy a virtual dip in the pool or a spine-chilling soak in the Jacuzzi. Can you catch giardia from looking at photos? I sure hope not for your sake. Luckily our duration was short and we soon found ourselves camped along the shoreline at Tsitsikamma, one of the most beautiful national parks in South Africa. At Tsitsikamma a group of us opted to go zip lining on a canopy tour. I am not great with heights but this is something I’ve wanted to try for a long time. It may not have been such a good idea, check out the video below.
In his infinite good luck Dan was put into a female harness because they ran out of male ones, so also provided a lot of entertainment for our fellow zippers with shouts of, “ohhh, my nuuts” throughout the course and a movement somewhere between hopping and dancing every time he landed on a platform. We were quite the pair, excuse the pun. It was fun, I think, but I’m not sure that I need to do it again. The sunset at Tsitsikamma that night was unbelievable, a great reward for the trauma of the day.
From Tsitsikamma we spent two days driving down the lovely Garden Route of South Africa, and stopped at the world’s highest commercially operating bungy jump. Just looking at it from afar made me want to retch as we watched four of our friends fling themselves willingly off the 216-meter high bridge. A fine testimony to the mental state of overland truck participants.
And finally, we made it to Capetown! Thirty-five days on a truck and it was actually sad to pack up our tent for the last time. Capetown was a blur of dinners, parties and tapering goodbyes to people who became real friends on this crazy adventure. We still miss them every day. We did manage to see a few sights, most importantly the impressive Table Mountain, but mostly took it easy, aclimated to life outside of a tent, went to the movies, and spent time with our friends.
This blog entry is epic as usual, so I guess we’ll have to have one last blog entry to finish up our trip…stay tuned and have yourselves a great week.
D & L
