“South Africa” series of articles

2013

2013 Mar

Mar 26 Tue - 27 Wed

This is going to be a holiday very modern. Cicero would be most intrigued. A manmade machine capable of sustained flight? Cicero couldn’t have seen that. A shuttlebus connecting the two ends of a building? Cicero couldn’t have foreseen that. In a Mediterranean climate, with a colonial history, a multilingual society grossly polarised in wealth between potentially-corrupt plutocrats and paupers reduced to servicing carts and clients on an ad-hoc basis?

I am most intrigued. I may be able to deduce facets of ancient Rome from facets of contemporary South Africa, so that I might better understand the ancient Roman society, so that I might better comprehend the strengths (and weaknesses) of the language(s) they used.

From other facets of the experience I may be able to deduce things to avoid when travelling in future.

Example one: quiche. While you can take a quiche from Manchester to Dubai, you cannot get it past Dubai because the sixteen-year-old boy in your company will have eaten by then. And quiches go off (with other egg dishes?) if left out the fridge more than nine hours.

Example two: apples. While you can take apples from Manchester to Dubai, and from Dubai to Johannesburg, you cannot take the apples out the airport because the sniffer beagle will smell the ethylene evolved by the ripening fruit and get the ripening fruit confiscated. Rather oddly the dog’s name was Doctor; as they say in Jo’burg, a Doctor a day keeps the apples away.

Example three: personal hygiene. I spent thirty-two consecutive hours in the same outfit, a lot of which time was in the crowded fug of the crowded place in the crowded plane. I don’t know what the crowd thought of my squalor, but it certainly chafed with my own style of sensibility. It was good when I finally cleaned myself from clothes and dirt and clothed myself with clean attire, at our accommodation in Johannesburg, in the home of one of my parents’ friends, a successful lawyer who, having not inherited masses of money from his parents, has worked hard at his work for his country. Cicero, similarly self-made, would be delighted by his successful successor, as were we: he is a very nice host.

Mar 28 Passion Thu

The South African counterpart of the British woodpigeon sings the Pingu themetune.
The South African counterpart of the British blackbird rubs its wings on its flank (because cricket is SA’s national sport).
The South African counterpart of the British carrion crow is Bostrychia hagedash, the hadeda ibis, and a rather lovely addition to my own IBIS (Index of Birds I’ve Sensed, my avian life-list), alongside the sacred ibis, the olive thrush, the fiscal shrike, and the white-fronted barbet.

There’s more to South Africa than birds. There are trees, which are here classified as follows. There are alien invaders. There are permitted aliens (which aren’t actually permitted, in national parks). And there are natives (which enjoy such privileges as not being uproooted on sight or denied the experience of being planted). It seems like SA may be adopting an arboraceous apartheid.

Mentioning which, we visited the Apartheid Museum this morning. Because there’s more to SA than the birds and the trees. There are memories of the real apartheid, real conflicts, real social injustice. And the real eloquence, real courage, and reel social responsibility borne by the Mandelas, the Goldreichs, the Mbekis, the Wolpes, and all the many others who recognised that together we are stronger, for when the whole world unites there is no sidelined (or celebrated) majority (or minority) to exploit (or be exploited).

Still with me? Good; I’m still here myself, to inform you that the spaghetti lunch I had at the nearby Italian restaurant was the best pasta dish so far this holiday. To be honest, I doubt it will be usurped to that title. It’s great what happens when an English boy of Scotch parentage eats Italian in a South African street named after a Namib general.
It’s great when nationalities unite like that.

Mar 29 Good Fri

After visiting a second museum (this one at Liliesleaf, where Mandela et al. were arrested fifty years ago following a police break-in) we went to an airport for our transport to Port Elizabeth, which I’ve now realised is on the coast - it’s a port.

There’s a nice seafood restaurant near our hotel there; my parents also enjoyed the wine (which may have been imported port). I remained teetotal, an adjective that also describes the clothing covering my torso - a tee-shirt, total.

Mar 30 Sat

Despite my parents’ late-night consumption of a glass of Merlot, I was who felt groggy in the morning. And I had to get up at seven. I felt so bad. I just wanted to laze, but that’s too lazy.

I was alright after a bath, which was fortunate for my sanity and for that of them around me. The water felt so good! And then we left Port Elizabeth. (Left Port? Isn’t that a pair of synonyms, to a Sailor at least?)

Snails - unlike humans - are not generally alright after baths.

The air as we circuited that game-reserve in Addo National Park! It felt so good! So glad we chose the two o’clock tour and not the 4:30 one (though, arithmetically, two and half four are equivalent). By 17:00, it was very rainy and windy, and less wildlife about.

Animals about included blue things I craned my neck to see, an orange thing lyin’ on a bush, and a brown thing antlered and loping. There was also a kudu decorated like a shaman of voodoo. And a magical eagle on a tree. I cannot name the plants though, apart from South Africa’s national, the protea.

After the game-ride we had a game of Travel Scrabble. I won by 71 points, more points than I gained from my 66-point OUTVOTED (Round 4). The final scores were Duncan 183; Mum 112; Dad 91; Sisters and Mum 84.

Playing and winning, it felt good.

Mar 31 Easter Sun

EWW! Earth Worm Warning! ICKY! It Comes Knowingly Yet! RIGHT! Really, it’s harmless.
Oh. Perhaps it’s Jesus resurrected; to be honest, it’s an adorable creature.

But still, no earthworm’s worming into my heart; no heart-worm’s falling into my soul; no tapeworm’s taping itself to my neocortex.

And no game-drives will be on today. The reason is that the winds are so strong that a man could quite conceivably be blown into the sky, in an easterly direction of course.

2013 Apr

Apr 01 Easter Mon

Had a terrific game of Scrabble today, though Dad suspects I learnt a lesson from the big cats we saw this morning, and cheetahed. But he’s the one who’s lion.

Several other people are in the mood for safari-themed puns: I overheard a boy asking his mother if they could “please play that game where we name African animals?” The mother’s response was “Ryan, no”.

Also happening today was that event in which a hotel receptionist asked me how old I was, so I could be charged as a child or an adult as appropriate, at the same time as the game-driver asked me what my favourite car was. I answered both questions with “4×4”.

Apr 02 Tue

The starling didn’t take the plunge, didn’t plunge its head into the cream pot. It delicately dipped its beak and sipped the delicacy. The bird was cautious, and thus did not get wet.

We however did. We plunged ourselves into a rainforest walk, where there was an abundance of rain for us to walk through, a scarcity of birds for us to walk to, and a pair of suspensionbridges for us to watch the surf from, overlooking an Indian Ocean inlet. The supermarine structures were superlative, but - in contrast with the stagnant humidity of the jungle - the winds were fast and strong, and thus - in contrast with the heat of the treeland - on each bridge it was as frigid as a rigid digit.

(Not that my fingers froze up: I was keeping them active by taking photos.)

The wind wouldn’t wick the wet and weariness away, so we stayed wet and weary - in contrast with the lively unsoaked starling - and so this jungle walk was the least loved, the most mephitic occurrence, the poxiest part of the day. Certainly not the crème de la crème. Neither was the cream the starling creamed off, as creamy as it was, and neither was the starling itself, as sweet as it was. Rather, my favourite part of the day was when I got a hundred and one Scrabble points for POXIES[T] on a triple-word-score, forming OP and NO perpendicularly.

I was unsure about playing POXIEST - does the noun “pox” produce an adjective “poxy”, and does that adjective produce a superlative “poxiest”? But I went for it, and went with it, and committed myself to it, and played it, and Dad confirmed it was a valid play.

One instance where taking the plunge was a good idea.

Apr 03 Wed

This cat sanctuary sure puts the “serval” into “conservation”. Ostensibly its purpose is to educate people, so they’re less likely to falsely decide felines have health benefits and thus put the caracal into the “snap, caracal, and pop” of their breakfast cereal. (That would be barking mad.) Of course, its real purpose is to satisfy people’s thirst for cute. It’s quite difficult to get internet access around here; hard luck if you’re looking for pictures on Snapcat.

Big cats are cute. But look at that sea-gull! Smile at that sea-gull! Admire that sea-gull! It is a bird of beauty, truly. What mammal could ever be compared?

I suppose the non-human primates in nearby Monkeyland could be compared to the sea-gull, in that my sisters appreciated the capuchins and I appreciated that sea-gull.
I reckon that my sisters like monkeys because they’re like monkeys, and can therefore more easily empathise. I reckon that I liked the lemurs because I like black-and-white animals (c.f. sea-gulls, and magpies and oystercatchers). No joke: I do. I once attended a fancy-dress party as a zebra; I suppose I shouldn’t really have been surprised to get called an ass.

Other things I like for being black-and-light include penguins, newspapers (greyish background, black text), and indeed Duncan’s Childhood Blog (black background, greyish text). (At least, that’s how the blog used to be) I also like squares and board-games. But not chess.

For chess is too black-and-white (and I keep confusing the king for the rook, in a mental version of castling). I need some colour - a splash of blue, a bit of yellow maybe - to really enjoy watching something. The contrast between black and white is nice, but only when used with less contrasting elements.

So it was rather nice that we had an afternoon boat trip upon the Knysna lagoon (pronounced “nize-na”). The sun was yellow; the sand was yellow; the sky was blue; the sea was too. The view over the Heads (pictured) is superb.

What made today even more special? The oystercatchers. The black is beautiful, and more so on a bright blue, green, and brown background.

I experienced this background partly by making it my foreground: on a walk around a reserve. That was beautiful too. Am I overdoing this article by exulting and exalting in so much beautiful? I don’t think so. Jo’burg is nice; Addo is nice; Storm’s River is nice; Knysna is Knysna.

Apr 04 Thu

Unless construed as “wilder than Loch Ness”, the lively seaside town of Wilderness happens to have a name as ironic as Brighton, that resort the sun never shines bright on, preferring to illuminate and irradiate upon the opposite hemisphere, in particular the Wilderness area and the British family that spent most of their day there.

That sentence is long because I’m too lazy to trim it. Laziness and lack of liveliness seem to be encouraged on the adjacent beach, where we spent most of the afternoon. I eagerly read a South African daily; Mum napped; Dad walked a kilometre west then a kilometre east; I don’t know what the sisters did (I couldn’t and can’t be bothered to ask them).

Today’s evening meal was at a cocktail bar called The Blue Olive. It was the only restaurant not offering live music (I told you Wilderness was lively). I had the kudu burger. Exquisite. It tasted like beefed up venison. (Because that’s what a kudu is.)

I was delighted that I didn’t have to work too hard at the meat. In my mouth the fibres disentangled like letters escaping from the tiles they’re written on and recombining in my head in a myriad of arrangements to produce the delightful perception of words and delightful taste.

I conjecture that that’s why I’m more skilled at Scrabble than my opponents so far this year. Having said that, one does have to work pretty hard to work out which of the arrangements of letters produces the best play. So perhaps I’m more suited to hard work and consequent achievement than laziness and consequent laziness.

So with that in mind let’s rewrite this article to clarify the laziness versus hard work theme.

On second thoughts, let’s not.

Apr 05 Wed

The shower in our accommodation isn’t temperature-adjustable. Hasn’t been all holiday. None of the places we’ve stayed at have had temperature-adjustable showers.

So nearly every morning I’ve been getting up to get in and get out of the water stream every five seconds like I’m partaking in a demented Hokey Cokey, because I’m too much of a wuss to have a shower under slightly hot water.

But not today! When I got into the shower today, I froze, though not in a temperature way. Using the joints that hadn’t solidified, my movements were as jerky as dried beef, but even so a decent amount of water got on my skin, and the rinsing of shampoo and soap was very successful. I felt purged.

As unusual as me tolerating a hot shower was, it isn’t as unusual as riding an ostrich. Yep. Twenty seconds of feathered wackiness. I think I’m best placed to describe what it’s like observing an ostrich ride, rather than describing doing it myself.

In front of me in the queue were a Canadian family: two parents, a son, and a daughter. The girl was very keen to be borne by a bird, and the parents were very keen she did. The keepers, less so: she had paraplegia and therefore impaired use of her legs. Not that that prevented her from having the thrilling experience of an ostrich ride. Oh no. She could hold on tight enough with her arms (and did).

Her (physically able) brother was as keen to not ride the ostrich as his sister was to ride it. He was terrified, too terrified to get on the bird, even after being informed that it’s quite safe as long as you don’t let go, that it’s fun if you just give it a go, and that it’s hilarious to watch others having a go.

After some time, he came to and came onto the ostrich. He enjoyed the ride. His family enjoyed watching him.

I think this shows that, for some people at least, mindset can be more of a handicap than body.

Apr 06 Thu

Sorry the map’s cropped; I’ve lost the full-size version.

It’s a long drive from Wilderness to Cape Town. There isn’t much to eat, but there’s plenty to see: there are hills and valleys and little towns and service-stations.

The confines of a car aren’t my favourite location - there isn’t much space - but that’s okay. There’s plenty to photograph: there are fancy pigeons and an cute cockerel that I just had to photograph and a bird looking very adorable peeking out of its little nest of tuft and twig.

The outsides of a city I’ve never been required to be in are a really scary environment, but I’ll survive (I hope). There are engine noises and conversations in Afrikaans and eagles calling craa-roo craa-roo over Table Mountain. I think the hotel down this street’s the one I’m staying at. Could be that street though.

Lunch was supermarket-bought crisps and sandwiches. Lunch was what made me realise how hungry I had been.

The V&A Waterfront is luxurious and spacious. The Waterfront was what made me realise how cramped I had been.

Our hotel is comfortable and the beds are really comforting. Being back at our hotel was what made me realise just how lost I’d been, and how scared.

Apr 07 Fri

This crocodile-kebab is certainly something to impale with my teeth and snap my jaws around. I’m no food-critic - I’d describe the meat as like tuna without the fishiness - but I know this is good, wholesome, meaty food.

I’m also no art-critic, but this is so clever! They’ve carved the tables in this restaurant to look like a local peak! The tables are flat at the top, just like the plateau on top of Tafelberg, as the Afrikaaners call it... a very clever way to stop plates and cups sliding off. Such a good idea!

I’m no critic. I don’t criticise. I don’t always say when I don’t like something. Except myself. I’m harsh on myself, most noticeably in this blog, and not on external things or people. Oh look, I’m criticising myself again.

Apr 08 Sat

Sorry the map’s cropped; I’ve lost the full-size version.

Boulder Bay on the east coast of Cape Peninsula is notable for its colony of African penguins (Spheniscus demersus), of which there are many. They are penguins, and therefore predictably total cute. We spent about an hour there, and I bought a souvenir jumper.

The Cape of Good Hope is famous for being the southernmost tip of Africa, or the southwesternmost tip of Africa to those who have their facts correct (Cape Agulhas is 150 km east-by-south-east). Less well-known is 2.2 km east of the Cape of Good Hope, which is Cape Point, the tip of Cape Peninsula but not the point where the Atlantic Ocean meets the Indian Ocean (that’s Cape Agulhas again).

And less well-known again are the rock hyraxes (Procavia procensis) that inhabit Cape Point. These are not giant rodents, but distant relatives of elephants and sea cows, which are not cows but... you get the idea. Manatees and dugongs.

My sisters found these hyraxes very cute; in my usual aversion to fur I preferred to take photos of lizards on the cliff-faces and guinea-fowl beside the light-house. I regarded the mammals as more useful when placed on a Scrabble board (the minimum score you’d get from playing HYRAXES being 71 if you get all your tiles out).

Talking of getting all tiles out, now would be a good point to add that Mum got all her tiles out twice in today’s game. In Round 1 she played BARITONE for 62 points, and in Round 2 she played [D]EANERY/TIE[D] for 72. At game’s end she had nearly three times as many points as Dad had, and 0.9 times as many points as I. For I had got all seven of my my own tiles out twice too. Mum’s DEANERY provided an A for me to play NEGATION (62), and the TIE that Mum had past-tensed in playing DEANERY/TIED provided a base for me to play FASTENS/STIED (74) - to sty a pig is to put it in its pen.

Shortly afterwards I played the short word IO (4 points), getting all my one remaining tile out and ending the game with me on 277, Mum on 249, and Dad on 85.

An io is a moth (Automeris io), named after one of Zeus’ lovers in Greek mythology, whom he made into a heifer to hide her from Hera. To keep Io from Zeus, Hera captured her and placed a guard with many eyes upon her; when Zeus got the guard killed, Hera added his eyes to the tail of the peacock. I saw two specimens of Pavo cristatus today, by the side of the road on the west coast of Cape Peninsula.

I doubt there’ll be a day with more animals this holiday. (Particularly as we’re departing tomorrow, by a specimen of Boeingus sevenfourseveni.)

Apr 09 Sun

After spending two weeks away you may expect me to be feeling quite home-sick.
After spending three nights by the sea you may expect me to be feeling quite sea-sick. I’m neither, and neither my sisters nor my parents are either, though my sisters were not impressed when it transpired that we were about to get aboard a yacht for a “relaxing journey around Table Bay”. Of course, “relaxing” is hardly the right participle given the near-nauseating swell: I’d prefer “exciting”.

From the boat I got some nice views of the local landmarks (the stadium, Waterfront, Table Mountain), and also some nice views of the local birdlife (cormorants, cormorants, more cormorants).

Cormorants weren’t the only birds I saw today. There were sparrows, thrushes, and this very handsome pigeon around a café in Cape Town. I took so many pictures of the pigeon that I decided to stitch them together using PhotoShop:

And that boat wasn’t the only craft we boarded today. At Cape Town International we boarded a plane. And thus it was time to say totsiens to South Africa, then goodbye to Dubai, then hello to the United Kingdom.