Glimpses of the Liddle-Roches

Peace Out

2009-05-27T19:02:00.006+02:00

As you have probably guessed by our severe lack of blog posts recently, we've entirely given up on this medium as an vehicle for sharing our life stories. Fear not! Your broken hearts will mend.

Just so as not to post something without pictures, here's what we woke up to the other morning:

A big, colorful balloon chuck full of people flying overhead. We waved energetically with arms high above our heads. No response. They were probably miffed that we weren't a couple of giraffe.

ThornyBush

2009-04-07T09:46:00.000+02:00

There we were, in sitting our office, staring idly at our computer screens and trying desperately to get our minds to focus on our work. (Tough to do when all we can think about and plan for is the next 3-day weekend). Then we got an unexpected phone call from a friend of ours who was looking for two more people to accompany him and his friend on a game drive through Thornybush Game Reserve. Would be interested in going? We needed about 3 seconds to confer and give him a resounding: "Yes!"

Since we live within 5 minutes of several different private game reserves, Neil was getting antsy that we hadn't visited one yet. Finally, our time had come! We were excited. This would be different for us.

Like Kruger, Thornybush has lots of accessible vehicle-accessible terrain, breathtaking scenery, of course, oodles of animals.

But unlike Kruger, it is a private game reserve. So...

it's much more expensive (unless you know someone who knows someone...)
it has several luxury lodges scattered throughout (one of which is Elton John's preferred venue whenever he visits South Africa)
it's smaller...about 11,500 hectares (Kruger is > 2.2 million hectares)
there are fewer animals, but they are not allowed to roam across fences lines to neighboring reserves...so they are always around somewhere
the guides communicate (via CB radios mounted underneath their dashboards) with each other so that they know where all the animals are then they drive you right to them
you can go as early and stay as late as you like
we don't have to do the driving

Basically, you're guaranteed to see some incredible things inside a private game reserve. Afterall, that's what they are set up to do...deliver the Big Five and much, much more.

Our guide, Olaf, and his spotter, Freddy, picked us up from the front gate of our "compound" around 4:30 pm in a sturdy looking, army green, open-air Land Rover. Nice. We were on our way for a sunset drive.

Over the next few hours we enjoyed the sights and sounds of Thornybush. Accompanying us on our journey were:

Wildebeest

Ostritch

Spotted Eagle

Hippo

Elephant

Giraffe

and Lion (Yes, she's in there...you may have to squint to see her).

Our last sighting of the evening was this guy...sitting next to the road.

At first he was a quite interested at our arrival. A little too interested, perhaps. Look at those eyes! Is that his "I'm about to pounce!" position or what?

But, within a few minutes he became quite bored with us. Just another group of awed tourist. He started to yawn a lot and eventually wandered off into the bush searching for something a bit more tasty.

Well, as you can imagine, we were pretty thrilled. Never had we seen so many animals, so close, and in so short a time before. And a male lion to boot! It was exhilarating. Little did we know that the most exhilarating part was jet to come...

As we were on our way home, Olaf decided to try crossing a little stream. But the water was too deep and the edge of the bank too steep. So, naturally, we got got stuck.

We were beginning to wonder just how long Olaf would continue to spin the tires further and further into the soft sand below. Eventually, he stopped this questionable behavior. Then he told Freddy to get out the one and only shovel they had and start digging out the wheels. It was dark by now and, of course, Olaf's flashlight didn't work...needed new batteries. So, Neil and I headed around to the rear of the truck to help Freddy dig out the back tires with the aid of the red focus light on our camera. Occasionally I would push the button down entirely and temporarily blind all of us with a bright flash. (Not fun.)

So, there we were, sitting ducks in the middle of a Big Five game reserve. It's all well and good to hear lion moan from the safely of our home at night, but quite another when you're its potential prey. At this point, I was beginning to second guess Olaf's rule of never taking a fire arm with him on game drives.

This plan of attack soon far ran out of steam. We weren't getting anywhere. Eventually, Olaf called for help (why not do this earlier, I wondered?). So, we waited.

Then, as we were gathering up our tools and shoes, without warning, the male lion we had seen earlier came rushing out of the bush at full speed straight towards us...roaring like he was possessed...

Well, not really. Actually, we just got back into the truck and within 20 minutes another truck came to pull us out of the stream. Yeah! We had escaped entirely uneaten. We live to play another day!

Camping in Kruger

2009-04-04T09:34:00.002+02:00

Way back in December we went camping in Kruger with a couple of friends from Tzaneen and their four kids.

We met them at Letaba Camp, which is a rather large camp located in the north-central part of Kruger along the Letaba riverbed. One wonderful aspect of Letaba is its huge lawns and tall, shady trees...Sycamore Fig, Natal Mahogany, Sausage Tree, and Apple Leaf. Just look at this place! It's magnificent! (No, that's not a live elephant. But that is the entry to Letaba Camp.)

It's quite nice to camp in Kruger because you can choose from several different types of accommodation. You can get:
(1) a tent/caravan site where you bring your own tent/caravan
(2) a rustic hut that has beds, but nothing else
(3) a safari tent with beds, a mini-fan, a hot plate, refrigerator, and table and chairs
(4) a fully-equipped bungalow with air conditioning
(5) a decked-out guest cottage that houses that sleeps about 10-15 people

Our friends opted to bring their own tent. Despite much begging, pleading, and puppy-dog eyes on their part (non-stop from the kids for the preceding 4 weeks) for us to join them in their tent, we held strong and opted for a separate bungalow. Honestly, can we really be expected to pass up air conditioning when it was a blistering 45 degrees Celsius everyday that week? Answer: No, we can't. So, while the family was on the other side of the campground unpacking the car, setting up the tent, and trying to make the most of their grass-less campsite, we were kicking up our heels on the porch of our sweet, sweet bungalow.

In between reading snippets from engrossing (and non-work-related) books we took in some of the scenery and wildlife. It was quite peaceful. Around the camp, many of the animals are so tame that they will eat right out of your hand. Not very sanitary, perhaps, but incredibly endearing. Aaahhhh. A person could get used to this.

Of course, monkeys are all very fun and lovable until they steal your food out from under your nose. True story: As Neil was unpacking our cooler and loading the fridge he set a bunch of grapes on the table, turned to open the fridge, then turned back to get the grapes. Too slow, Joe. By then the monkey was halfway across the lawn with grapes in its hand and glee in its heart. Turns out monkeys don't even have to wait until you leave something out. They'll just open your fridge while your out walking around. So, the campground officials "strongly recommend" that people turn around their refrigerators to face the wall (as shown below).

Apparently, monkeys haven't quite yet figured out how to work as a team and scoot the fridge away from the wall. Just give them a couple more generations.

Eventually we joined our friends and walked around exploring the camp together.

We spotted some fun things along the way...

Ohhh, what's that?

That is a big lizard...

What Neil was saying before he was so rudely cut off by the person filming (this is the same person who has figured out that videos longer than about 20 seconds take way too long to upload on a blog) was basically this: Snakes, like lizards, love to eat eggs. They enter chicken coops at night and gorge themselves...swallowing eggs whole and crushing them inside their bodies. (Yum!) Now, the people to whom the chickens and eggs belong do not like this. But, it's difficult to catch snakes in the act, especially if they are up to all this mischief in the middle of the night and may bite you if you disrupt their feast. But people are clever. They set out hard-boiled eggs in the chicken coops. The snakes then swallow these eggs. But since the snake cannot crush a hard-boiled egg once its been swallowed, they are immobilized. The next morning people find the frozen snake and kill it...often with shovels or rocks.

There are also less slithery animals about like this little bushbuck who was quite interested in what we were up to.

The kids especially liked watching the monkeys. (We kept a tight eye on our food.)

They were even more fascinated with squirrels...which are apparently incredibly rare up in Tzaneen. We let the kids borrow our camera for a little while and it came back to us with about 2GBs worth of squirrel documentaries. Can't really blame them though...I remember going camping with my family when I was a kid and being filling with glee whenever I'd see a chipmunk or squirrel scamper across the road and up a tree. (The only thing that lessens my excitement for them now is that I've spent the last 10 years trying to keep them out of our apartment. Trust me, a up-close encounter with a squirrel on your bed is much less fun than seeing them romp around in the wild.)

Unfortunately, the not-so-short film "The Life and Times of an Unnamed Squirrel" had to be deleted. We needed that 2GBs for all the elephant we saw along the way:

After such a long walk, it was nice to put our feet up.

Later that evening we moseyed over to their camp for some festivities. We had a braai (wherein I successfully managed to eat zero meat without having to defend such odd behavior and Neil managed to eat a lot of meat with the constant declaration of its gloriousness).

We played Uno (Neil and I actually won several games without cheating...too much).

By that time we were plum tuckered out, so we headed back to our cozy, air-conditioned digs and settled down to a cool, mozzie-free night. I don't remember much after that which I interpret as some good sleep.

The next day was a scorcher. So, we didn't do too much other than just enjoy eachother's company...

Looks like somebody could have used a little A/C last night!

Don't we all look just swell? These candid shots are great. Give your camera to a five-year-old boy and you're sure to get the real story. Fun, fun, fun in the sun, sun, sun!

Eventually we had to part ways and Neil and I headed home through the park towards Orpen gate.

Along the way we had two great elephant encounters:

Whew! They don't get closer than that!

We learned a few things from this experience:

(1) Always opt for air conditioning in Kruger. Always.
(2) Do not...I repeat: DO NOT...come between a Mama elephant and her baby or cut off an elephant bull when he is trying to cross the street.
(3) Know where reverse is on your car.

Holiday - Part Five: The End...Finally!

2009-03-04T09:39:00.004+02:00

Well, here is it. The final installment of our holiday adventure (and only 2 months later, too...has anyone else besides us lost interest by now?).

The morning after our trek through Lesotho, we managed to beg a ride back down to South Africa from a taxi driver. Now, normally we avoid taxis like the plague because they are a fine way to pick up various communicable diseases. But, it was either brave the taxi or bike down the steepest/scariest cliff in the world in the dark with our cooler and suitcase. Tough decision. We seriously considered strapping the cooler to one of the bikes and holding the suitcase between us as we maneuvered down the mountain. But, when it came down to it, that taxi looked pretty inviting at 5:15 in the morning...disease-ridden or not.

Port St Johns
Once we were safely back through the border post, we headed out of Kwa-Zulu Natal and into the Eastern Cape province towards the Wild Coast and the coastal city of Port St. Johns.
Although quite exhausted, we were excited about the last leg of our journey. Mostly because whenever we mentioned to a local that we were headed to Port St. Johns their eyes glazed over and "ooh" and "aah" sounds escaped their lips as if savoring one of their favorite holiday treats.

We were told of a place where "laws don't exist" and the roadsides are packed with local fisherman selling underweight seafood for next to nothing. We imagined pristine beaches with endless, white sands; fine restaurants and specialty shops; a diversity of peoples and flavors.

What we found didn't exactly fulfill our wildest dreams.

There were beaches. But, the rocky shores lined muddy waters and smelled of rotting rice.
There were restaurants. But, they were anything but fine. Neil's personal favorite was the N.E.W.S. Cafe where he ordered "fresh crawfish" and got a funny colored one that we deduced was either days old or previously rejected by another customer because he saw the "cook" remove it from the microwave and throw it into a styrofoam box when his order was up.
And there were shops. But, those that weren't boarded up specialized in booze. (Sorry, we only patronize pubs in trees or on mountain tops).

This was looking like a bust. But there was still hope...our accommodation could save us! I'd booked a 3-night stay in self-catering room at the Umzimvubu Retreat. The situation looked promising. This place was well advertised all over the internet and on billboards for several kilometers outside the town:
Plus, it boasted a location not 1o meters from the ocean and had quite an inviting landscape with tree-lined walkways and flower pots outside the rooms.

All good signs.

Then we went inside our room. The bedroom was as least livable...minus the hundreds of mosquitoes and the obvious lack of a mozzie net. (You'll have to envision it without all our stuff.)

The bathroom, however, was another story. Downright frightening.
How, we wondered, were we supposed to feel clean after showering in this? Wearing shoes in the shower helped.
Want a relaxing bubble bath after a long day of driving? Forget about it. Unless you find soap scum especially soothing.
Oddly enough, Neil wasn't super thrilled about our digs.
The communal kitchen looked slightly more promising. This was a relief since we weren't too keen to check out other restaurants in town. However, we soon discovered upon preparing some fish and veggies for dinner that the stove didn't work. We tried everything. Including fidgeting with the gas line that ran from the wall to the stove (kids, do not try this at home). Eventually we heated up some nachos in the microwave...after running to the store for a cheese grater. Fully-equipped kitchen...yeah right!
Truthfully, by the end of the day, we were pretty set on suffering through the night and leaving for home in the morning. But then we realized we were only a couple hours away from a few other places we wanted to see. So, come the morning light we shooed the mosquitoes off our exposed appendages, rolled off the sticky bed, schlepped ourselves into the car once more, braced ourselves for a pothole-ridden ride, and ventured south.

Coffee Bay
Our first stop was a place called Coffee Bay. This is another town on the eastern coast of the country. It's smaller than Port St. Johns but much more attuned to the tourism market.

There were little shops along the streets selling bait, tackle, and refreshments to the beach bums there for the weekend.

Frankly, this felt a bit like Spring Break '89, so we passed through rather quickly.

Hole in the Wall
Just down the road from Coffee Bay is the third-most photographed place in South Africa, Hole in the Wall.

To get there you must drive a few kilometers on a winding dirt road that takes you past ocean views, family huts, grazing cattle, bountiful farmlands, and hundreds of children chanting "Sweets! Sweets!" from the roadside.
Eventually the road stops and you find dozens of young boys waiting to take you on a guided walk from the "parking lot" to the Hole in the Wall...for a nominal fee, of course. Actually, I think those who wait and watch your car while you're gone have the right idea ..."only paper money".
Eventually, you arrive at the Hole in the Wall, a place known for and named after, well, a hole in a wall. OK, yes, I can expound...

The Hole in the Wall is a huge detached cliff with a giant opening through its center carved by the waves.
The local Xhosa call this place "izi Khaleni", which means "place of thunder". During high tide the clap from the waves can be heard throughout the valley.
In short, this place was great. We had a grand time relaxing, exploring, and generally being awe-struck by the capability, power, and beauty of nature.

And that, as they say, is that. Our Christmas holiday in a nutshell. Well, everything except the 16-hour drive home...

Holiday - Part Four: The High Point

2009-02-12T14:19:00.000+02:00

Now, where were we? Oh yes...

We left Halls County House at 5am the day after Christmas, despite a futile plea from Janette for a couple of "real Americans" to try her breakfast hash browns. Despite her disappointment at our outright refusal, like a good host, she came out to say goodbye the next morning and wish us a safe trip before we got in the car and drove away never to return. Ah, nothing like the smell of a cigarette-soaked bathrobe in the morning. (What is an un-real American, I wondered as we drove away).

Lesotho
On this day we were on our way to Lesotho, a country completely surrounded by South Africa.

We were going there by way of Sani Pass. The road through Sani Pass is quite possibly the worst road in the world. I wouldn't even call it a road. More like a steep, rocky foot path that has been slightly widened. This is, in fact, what it is. This "road" climbs about 1000 meters in 8 kilometers. Somebody with lots of power in SA has deemed this road drivable only by 4X4 vehicles. (Aside: My favorite part about this sign is the double negative: "no vehicle that is not equipped..." Classic.)

We do not own a 4x4 vehicle. As noted previously, we own a VW Polo Classic with a 4-inch clearance. We drove said Polo to the police/border post where they exit stamp your passport and ask you a bunch of questions. The answers to these questions don't seem especially interesting to them. Kind of like an international DMV. So, how were we going to get up the pass? On our bikes, of course. It was a great idea. After being in the car for so long, I suggested it would be nice to "stretch our legs a bit". Right? Yes...sort of. The first bit started out fine. We were ready with positive attitudes, plenty of leg strength, oodles of time before the Lesotho border post closed, and a blinding ignorance of what lay ahead. Incidentally, this is what lay ahead: Probably best we didn't know that at the time. Let's go! About 1 km into the ride, the road got very steep, very uneven, and very slow-going. As 4x4 trucks passed us, the people inside inevitably stopped to (1) gawk ("Hey, somebody is biking up this! What?!? Where?!? Why?") and (2) cheer ("Hey, lookin' good! Almost there!"). Note: Please do not tell people who are biking up 8 kms of steep, rocky, wet terrain that they are "almost there" when they are not almost there. This sort of sadistic, twisted humor is not funny. Over the next 2 to 3 hours, the weather turned sour and our legs got tired. Oh yeah, this was turning out to be a great idea. But, eventually we made it. This was the third attempt to get Neil to fain elation at the top of the pass, but for some reason he couldn't muster up the energy to smile. Then, just as we topped the pass the sun pierced through the clouds to reveal the mark of humankind, i.e., the Lesotho border post and few scatters huts.
Now we just had to find our way to the Sani Top Chalet. This wasn't too difficult since it was the largest structure atop the mountain and considerably nicer than the surrounding Basutan huts. What awaited us inside was the "Highest Pub in Africa". This would have been a most welcome sight if we (1) drank alcohol, (2) enjoyed the overly-chatty pub atmosphere, and (3) weren't more interested in finding a portion of the floor to lay down on and sleep for the next 12 hours. We barely maintained consciousness throughout dinner. OK, so I fell asleep over my vegetable soup (so warm and delicious!) while Neil made friends with strangers who asked if I was feeling alright. "Yeah, she's fine...I think. Just tired. She made us bike up the pass." "That was you? You two are nuts!" At this point, I was less interested in defending my actions than I was in locating a bed for the night. So, I let the attack on my sanity slide. Had we played our cards right (i.e., not been such penny-pinchers), we could have stayed in one of these luxury chalets complete with sheepskin rugs, wood-burning fireplaces, en-suite showers, and king-size beds.Instead, we bedded down in the backpackers lodgings.
Complete with cement floors, picnic tables, shared bathroom,and a shower that looks like it could be the main attraction in an "Atrocities of Our Time" exhibit. "But it's cheap...But it's cheap..." became my new mantra for the next two days. Besides, we wouldn't see any of this while we were asleep. The next day was incredible. On advice of the Sani Top Chalet owner, Greg, we got up at the crack of dawn (3:45am) to watch the sunrise. (Not such an amazing feat when you consider the fact that we were asleep by 7:30pm the night before.) The rest of the morning brought with it some light reading, travel documentation, and bird watching from the Sani Top porch overlooking the Sani Pass. After enjoying a relaxing and hearty breakfast at the pub's dining hall we headed out on a hike to Thabana-Ntlenyana - the highest point in Southern Africa. Luckily, the night before, Neil had arranged for a local guide, Adolf, to show us the way. He also arranged for a family from Cape Town to join us. (Boy, a lot can happen when you're sleeping over soup.) It felt as though this hike took us all over the mountains of northeastern Lesotho. Across rivers, along ridges, through soggy meadows, (with the occasional break for introspection and mediation) past blanket-wrapped shepards and their flocks of sheep and goats, all the way to the top... (hmm, this looks much more dramatic in person)... where you brace yourself for a stunning 360-degree view...and a constant, strong wind. Whew, that was fun! What's that? We have to go all the way back?

Oh boy...

Holiday - Part Three: A Christmas to Remember

2009-01-24T10:26:00.027+02:00

On the day before Christmas we found ourselves heading toward Giants Castle, which is the main attraction of the Central Drakensburg region.

Since we had some time before we were supposed to check into our next accommodation, we took in a little hike. Our legs were a bit sore by this time (why, I wonder?), so we wanted something mellow. The R10 map we purchased from the curio shop listed one hike called "The Meander"...no serious elevation gain, no boulder jumping, just rolling hills and 360 degree views. Perfect.

Yet again, Drakensburg delivers. This place is fantastic. A hike for everyone and every mood. After this little excursion, it was time to make our way to Halls Country House located along what the SA Tourism Association calls "The Midlands Meander" route. I think they've named the road this because it proceeds by taking a winding or indirect course around the Drakensburg midlands. Plus, it's fun to alliterate.

Halls Country House
Four-star restaurant and accommodation. Looks promising!
The view from the front yard was nice. Unfortunately, it was too foggy to see much. But when it's clear, Giants Castle provides a lovely backdrop to this picturesque scene.
Here's a little history: The main house, originally conceived as a "Natal Veranda House", was built in 1904 for the E.A. Thompson, founder and headmaster of Weenen County College. Over the years, most of the verandas have been converted into living spaces. Now the owners call it "farmhouse quirky". Neither of us is sure what exactly that means.

We got the Crested Eagle Suite. Very spacious.
So everything seemed nice. Everything on the up and up.

But, we were, in short, duped.

One example. Here is how Janette and Brain pitch their place on their website: "Our deep rural setting and spectacular views mean seclusion, tranquility, and nothing more intrusive than the sound of a tractor in the distance or an owl hooting at night." Reality: Neil is awoken at 2am to a woman yelling into her mobile phone outside our "private" entrance. She didn't stop talking until 3am. Neil didn't get back to sleep until 4am. Luckily, his constant pacing up and down the room accompanied by unintelligible (but clearly angered) mutterings didn't keep me awake. Of course, not much usually does.

There is a long, sordid story behind our stay at Halls Country House. One that includes 48 hours of constant regret over not opting for a chalet in Giants Castle when we had the chance.

Suffice it to say that if you like to:
(1) be the only guests at a B&B and receive all of the overbearing attention that is usually distributed across 10 people

(2) be welcomed at the door by massive, white, hairy, playful dogs who have been romping around soggy fields all day

(3) eat dinner for 3 hours late at night while playing the "what America needs to do is _____" game with people who admit (in detail) to hating Muslims and lying to them when they inquire about accommodation to avoid the "hassle" of cooking kosher meals

(4) have cigarette smoke blown in your face by someone who utters "this nicotine addiction is going to kill me one day" every time he leaves the room to get another smoke so he can muster up the energy to answer your seemingly innocuous question: "How far away is Kamberg?"

(5) be in the company of hosts who are tipsy by 5pm and downright stewed by 7pm

(6) have a room that shares a wall with the bar where Brian kicks up the tunes round about 4pm and keeps them coming until well into the evening...yes, even when nobody is in there to listen

(7) be surprised by a bill that itemizes each course you ate for dinner...a dinner which you thought was included in the base rate

then Halls Country House is the getaway destination of your dreams.

Christmas Day
Our dreams were in pieces by the next morning. We felt we ought to do something to salvage the day. It was Christmas, after all.

First off, we drove to Kamberg. This was a slight detour from our plans. But Brian went on and on about its "world-famous San rock art" and the "sheer euphoria" we would certainly experience as we hiked up to the secret caves where these protected, ancient, paintings quietly reside. OK, fine. Sounds good. We're in. It's not that we suddenly became super interested in rock art, but more that we didn't want to have to tell Brian that we didn't take is advice when we had dinner with him that evening. We weren't sure what his reaction would be upon hearing such astounding news. And seeing some rock art could be neat. So, we drove about 2 hours south along the Midlands Meander...and yet another long, dirt road. By this time, I could hear the car groan with every turn of the wheels. Beautiful drive, though.

Let it be known that on Christmas Day the Kamberg Rock Art Center is closed. Tell your friends. We've already told Brian. He was stunned. (Frankly, I was stunned that he was stunned.)

No matter. On the drive back from Kamberg we found a lovely little Anglican church and listened to the Christmas Day service.
We arrived a bit late and it was crowded. So, we huddled in the doorway with a group of local latecomers. The service was nice. The choir was hip. Each singer decked out in brightly colored shirts and sunglasses. I think it was the first time we've attended a church service in our hiking clothes. Oddly enough, we fit just fine. It was over too soon. Back to the road.

By this time, we were hungry. And we had left early enough from Halls that we'd skipped breakfast. The only plus side of which was not having to digest nicotine-laced eggs. But trying to find a place to eat on Christmas morning in the KwaZulu-Natal midlands is difficult. Then we remembered there is an Ultra City about 1.5 hours north on the N3, one of the few highways in SA. (For those of you not hip to SA jive, an Ultra City is a massive gas station with other little shops connected to it in strip-mall fashion. It is entirely self sufficient. Once you enter, you never have to leave. It has everything...petrol, donuts, hamburgers, bumper cars, toilets, and free parking. If we could somehow manage to dismantle it, transport it to the moon, reassemble it inside something akin to Biosphere2, people could definitely live lunarly for a long, long time...) After scouting out the refreshment situation we decided to take our chances with the mangos we'd had in our cooler since St. Lucia.

Cathedral Peak
By this point, we had decided to re-visit our original plan to see Cathedral Peak, another popular spot in the northern part of Central Drakensburg. The drive was wonderful. We passed hundreds of homes (on lots that could sell for millions of dollars in the U.S) set admit vast, breathtaking landscapes.

Once at Cathedral Peak, our luck started to change. We (OK, I) managed to sweet-talk the guard at the gate who let us in the park despite it's being closed to day visitors like us. I don't know what I said. I don't know what he said either. Let's just chalk it up to a delightful result of a conversation being lost in translation...not an uncommon occurrence around here.

So, here is what Cathedral Peak looks like from the top of Tryme Hill:

The little brownish bumps behind Neil in the background is a place called Didima Camp. You can book chalets there...incidentally, another option we could have secured instead of Halls Country House.

Now, despite looking at every guesthouse, B&B, and self-catering chalet we passed with the kind of envy you experience when somebody orders a better-looking dish than you at a restaurant you've never patronized before, we had a good day. Seriously, it was fun.

See. Plus, we still had a soothing second-hand cigarette high to look forward to that evening.

Holiday - Part Two: Mountains of Glee

2009-01-16T08:32:00.061+02:00

After our little stint at St. Lucia and Cape Vidal on the eastern coast, we headed inland toward the Drakensburg mountains.

We began in the Northern Drakensburg which is the most popular region of the park. We based ourselves in a woodsy chalet at the Bergville B&B, Bingelela.
Cozy. However, we were slightly surprised to find out that our "fully equipped, self-catering" unit came with only a miniature fridge. No oven or stove. Not even a hotplate. No matter. We got a local tip about a dynamite pizza place just down the road. Wood-fired pizza with delectable toppings...artichoke hearts, butternut squash, peppadews. Yum! And only about $4.50 per pizza. Double yum! Tom Douglas eat your heart out.

After our pizza excursion, we headed back to our temporary, cupcake-looking home. We had to get lots of rest. Hiking was on tomorrow's agenda.

Tugela Gorge
Our first hike was through Tugela Gorge. The path follows the Tugela River through the gorge to a huge, solid wall of rock called The Amphitheatre where you can see Tugela Falls. Beautiful hike. Everything alive and lush and smelling of earth after rain.

This particular hike seemed like it had a little bit of everything...

Thick forests (with glowing men),
sweeping valleys,
dwarfing cliffs,

rock-laden rivers,
massive rock formations,
even modern rock art.
Just when we thought we'd reached the end of the trail and things couldn't get any better, we happened upon a chain ladder that ran from the river up the side of a cliff. Excellent! Because we were feeling adventurous, we decided to see where it led. Up, up, up...
to a steep, narrow junction between two massive cliffs. Thanks to a few well-placed steel rods nailed into the rock and hanging vines from trees, we were able to pull ourselves up this little crevasse. Why we thought this would be fun is as unclear to me now as it was then. But up we went...again. After all this, you end up at the top of a cliff. (No surprise there, I suppose.) From here, you can look down into the gorge and see part of the Tugela River. If we had waited an hour or so, we would have seen half a dozen people swimming down there. A refreshing reward after a hearty hike. On our way down we made sure to enjoy the view of Tugela Falls. It is the second highest cascade of waterfalls in the world. The total drop is about 950 meters (roughly 3,100 feet)!
While being awestruck, we managed to pick up some very valuable information from other hikers about the "must-do" hikes in the area. Everyone (yes, every single person) we spoke to raved about the hike to the top of Tugela Falls where you can look down over the Falls, the Gorge, and even walk across the Amphitheatre. It even involves another chain ladder. Well, that sealed the deal. The next morning we headed off to Sentinel Peak and Mount aux Sources, the highest point in the Drakensburg.

Sentinel Peak/Mount aux Sources
First of all, just the drive up to the trailhead was incredible...up a seemingly endless road composed of hand-laid brick. It feels as though you're driving right into the sky. Then you get onto a dirt road that follows the side of the mountains for several more kilometers.
This road may not look it, but it was quite rocky. Our little front-wheel drive car had a bit of trouble making it all the way. This is mostly because the frame of the car is a grand total of 6 inches from the ground. Oh, yeah, plus it has no shocks. The former is thanks to Volkswagon. The latter is thanks to daily travels to and from work on a road not much better than this one. Somehow, she rallied. Mostly likely because Neil got out and tossed the biggest obstacles out of the way. It was like watching He-Man at work...only with slightly more clothing and sans Battle Cat.

When you finally reach the trailhead, you get a glimpse of what you're about to climb...this time on foot. Exhilarating.
Yikes! What were we doing? No idea. But we kept going.

Here's a closer look at a portion of the Amphitheatre wall a few kilometers up the trail. Tremendous.

And here is a taste of what you get to enjoy if you turn around and look out over the South African province of Free State from the Amphitheatre wall.
We often stopped just to pinch ourselves...and enjoy feeling very small.
But we couldn't stop for too long because a heavy mist was moving in fast.
As the clouds thickened, we lost the trail a few times. No worries. It's an adventure, right? Eventually we managed to find our way to the chain ladders that take you up the cliff and onto the top of the Amphitheatre. The first one is about twelve meters. The second one is about six.

Yeah, I know. We were just happy that they weren't any longer. Since the weather was getting worse (now the wind had picked up) we were hesitant to venture much further. Ah, but we were so close! And when three confident, 20-year-old males passed us without even batting an eye and bounded up the second chain ladder like Bantustan mountain goats, our self-respect was at stake. That's it! Let's go!

Success! Ugh, it's tough to pose for a picture when you're just glad to be alive.
Once on top, the mist was too thick to see anything. We could hear the Tugela Falls, though. Loud and clear. We thought we'd try to ride out the weather and see if the skies would clear. Would be nice to see what we're standing on top of. But 20 minutes later it was getting worse. Now the rain was starting. So, down we went. No worries. There is always next time.

AntBear Guesthouse
By the time we got back, we were tired. Very tired. But we had to drive down to Central Drakensburg to our next stop over in the so-called Midlands of Drankensburg.

Of course, to get there we had to take yet another dirt road. What is it with South African roads? Our poor car can't take this kind of stress. Neither can we, for that matter.
Despite the questionable road quality, we were excited. This was the place we were most looking forward to seeing: The AntBear Guesthouse. The online reviews we scrutinized said this was "the place to be" if your going to visit Central Drakenburg. (Interestingly enough, we found out later that the man who owns AntBear, Andrew, is in charge of maintaining many of these websites.) Regardless, this place was impressive.
Andrew and his wife, Connie, were extremely welcoming. And their cook prepared a tasty dinner, which we devoured. (I wonder if our hunger manifested itself in our table manners. I think I even at pork, but can't be certain.) Since this is a guesthouse, we ate dinner "family-style" with our hosts and the other four guests around a big table. This, as you might imagine, was quite interesting. We met a couple of UK ex-pats who currently live in Spain. They were somewhat less than chipper...constantly lamenting the fact that all of their luggage was lost on their way to Joburg. Bummer. (Note: DO NOT FLY IBERIA!) The other couple, Sonia and Vernon, live in Limpopo (our home province), and are originally from Cape Town. Jackpot! After growing tired of listening to ex-Brits bash "ignorant Spaniards", we found solace in swapping stories with S&N about our two countries. Turns out "W" is reviled worldwide, the Drakensburg rivals any mountain range in North America, and Obama is watched closely with bated breath. I admit, we preferred these conversations to hearing about how difficult it was for them to maneuver the bathtub together earlier that afternoon. Seriously, they were a hoot. We could hardly wait until breakfast.

After dinner we dragged ourselves toward our beautiful room. (Did I mention we were tired?) Within 3 minutes I was asleep. Just enough time to brush and floss. I found out the next morning that Neil made it only about 20 minutes more as the calm precision of David Suchet's Hercule Poirot lulled him to sleep.
All in all, I think the (possibly doctored) reviews were correct. This IS the place to be. All of the woodwork is done by the Andrew's father. Gives the whole place a kind of funky/comfy/outdoorsy feel. Even the bathroom had a cool vibe. And it was super clean. That alone is worth at least three stars in my book.
The next morning the skies were clear and the air was soft. So, we walked around the farm a bit. Relaxing. Rejuvenating.
Unfortunately, we couldn't lollygag forever. Off again...and onto the next adventure...

Holiday - Part One: Let the Fun Begin

2009-01-07T15:40:00.027+02:00

For us, this past holiday season was like five holidays rolled into one. (Well, we had to do something to make up for being workaholics in our other life.)

Our thought: "You know, nothing beats a road trip!" So, a road trip it was.

The plan: Drive southeast through Kwa-zulu Natal out to the coast, back west to the Drakensburg mountains, down and up...up...up to Lesotho, and finally drop southeast again to take in part of the Eastern Cape. Basically, it goes: coast, mountains, coast...then all the way back home again. About 3,500 kilometers in all. Whew! (Don't worry, in between bouts of driving we managed to squeeze in some sights.)

First Stop: St. Lucia.

St. Lucia is a town on the northeast coast of South Africa very near the Mozambican border. It's small. Six streets in all. It's also very clean and extremely inviting after a long day on the road. Since everyone in St. Lucia is either a tourist or in the tourism business, it's pretty safe to walk around...even at night. I must admit, we relished being able to walk around the town past buildings that were open for business past 6pm. Plus our B&B was incredible...clean sheets, supportive mattresses, en suite bathroom, ultra-powerful air conditioner and a private deck!

Is this heaven?

I mean, we were thrilled just to be able to walk on sidewalks again. But, air conditioning! Wow! I think we could have ended the vacation after that first night and been completely content.

Little did we know that the best was yet to come...

The next morning we found our way to the ocean. The Indian Ocean!

Our introduction to one of our new favorite oceans was via a wonderful, hidden, little place called Mission Rocks. This is a beach littered with huge rock formations from which people fish, sunbath, and simply soak in the stunning surroundings (alliteration, I love ya!).

However, if you turn north and walk for about 300 meters, you'll find a beach that looks like something out of the "Pristine and Untouched" section of National Geographic (no, that's not an actual section in the magazine, but it should be...and this place should be featured).

Ahhh, just breath it in. To be completely honest, we were surprised how much we had missed the ocean. OK, it's not the same ocean, but it managed to rejuvenate our souls just the same. I can still remember the smell. (Wait. No, that's our community pool. Oh, well.)

We spent most of the morning catching warm waves,

or running from them,

exploring the rocks,

losing our feet in the sand,

and trying never to forget this place.

Yes, this is heaven (minus the sunburns).

Holiday Shout Out

2009-01-01T08:35:00.011+02:00

On Christmas day this year we found ourselves atop a peak in the Drakensburg mountains...and in the mood to make a little holiday video...

Take 1:

Take 32:

Afterthought:

The Escarpment

2008-12-17T15:22:00.000+02:00

Several Fridays ago (is that really a workday for most people?) we thought we’d hop in the car and check out the local surroundings.

So what kind of scenery does the South African low veld have to offer? Well, just in what the touring books refer to as the "panoramic escarpment route" there are several main attractions: God’s Window, Berlin Falls, Bourke’s Luck Potholes, The Three Rondawels, Blyde River Canyon, and more.

God's Window
That’s right you heard me, God’s Window. I don’t care what it is, if it’s named God’s Window it has to be good. Naturally, we were excited. Not wanting to mess around, we headed straight there.
That wasn't God's Window. Just a road. But I wanted you to feel like you were coming with us and we have to start somewhere.

Almost there…just thought we’d stop and take in the view. Not bad. Oh, you want to know what I am looking at? Well, here you go. Okay, we arrived at the trailhead. Are you ready for God’s Window? It’s up these stairs… Down this path… Are you coming? Come on! No more messing around! On second thought, we should stop to rest. Trust me. You’ll thank me later. Almost there…didn’t I say that already? Just through this little pathway and we are there. Just a little further… Finally...God’s Window! Hey, how did he get there? He’s ruining the picture. Hey buddy, this is my photo op! That’s better. Off in the distance you can see Blyde River. Okay, let’s go off the beaten path just a little bit and see what else God’s Window has to offer. Are you ready? I'm ready! Once you get beyond the heavily forested area it opens up a little. Just beyond the open field we spot some vegetation. Steph races ahead and because she’s faster and in better shape she quickly disappears. When I finally catch up, I see she is entranced by this big rock. What is she doing? Nevermind…I can get ahead of her while she’s distracted by the overwhelming beauty of our surroundings. Just beyond the rock it opens up just a little for another fabulous view.

OK, it’s time to turn back and head to our next destination, but because I know you can’t get enough of this…here are some more pictures we took on the way back to the car. Okay, let’s get out here and go see the Berlin Falls. But before we do let’s see what these street vendors are selling. Most stuff is selling for R20-R100 (about $2 - $10). On the way to Berlin Falls we spotted this little village that is set on a hill and each house has this incredible view of essentially what we just saw. You will just have to trust me on this one since you can’t see it in the picture.
Berlin Falls
From a tidy little placard at the beginning of the very short 30m trail, you learn that “the Eastern Transvaal Escarpment is characterized by a number of spectacular waterfalls. These waterfalls, situated in the waterfall spruit and named after the farm on which they are situated, are 45 meters high and originated as a result of the differential weathering resistance of the local rocks.” Oh, very interesting. Here's a nice glimpse of what Steph is admiring: Very nice, but no rest for the weary. Onto the next stop...

Bourke’s Luck Potholes.
Funny story: I pull up to the gate and the man there asks us for 55 bucks. I am about ready to lose it because I see on their board “1 car = 5 RAND”. So I give him a piece of my mind and once I finish letting him have it, he calmly points to the board and explains that it’s 25 Rand per person plus 5 Rand per car. Set straight, I reply as sheepishly possible, “Oh, that makes sense. Right. So, where do we park?”

As we pull into our parking place we see this little guy sitting on the fence directly in front of us. It wasn't the least bit skittish (probably thought we would feed it). We got so close we could even see the wrinkles in its hands. Then came the baby monkeys…up to some mischief, I suspect. Please let them not be heading to our car. Whew! Someone else’s car. These monkeys are having so much fun…it’s hard to discipline them when they are so cute. You might have noticed in the background of the picture with the monkey sitting on the fence there is this pile of dirt. Believe it or not that is one of the smaller termite hills we’ve seen. Okay, onto the actual potholes. Now, it gets a little dangerous here (as you can tell from this sign). So, you must stay on the footpath. And not get too close to the bridges’ railing. Careful! It's dangerous here, remember? But it's difficult not to break these rules since what you can see from the bridge is incredible…

I guess this what they mean by potholes:
More pictures of the potholes.
Three Rondawels
Boy, I'm tired. Long day. Luckily this view of a vast canyong easily lifts our spirits. Can you see why this is called the Three Rondawels? I just don't have the energy to explain...

Last stop: Blyde River Canyon / Blyde River Dam

We made it to the top of the dam just as the sun was going down. Good thing this is only 30 minutes from home!
What a day! Thanks, South African low veld, you never fail to impress.

An Elephant of a Day

2008-12-10T10:00:00.000+02:00

It just doesn't seem right to live on the doorstep of Kruger National Park and not visit it on our way home from church. So, off we went on the old Phalaborwa-to-Orpen drive two Sundays ago.

You'd think we be bored with all these animals by now, but we can't seem to get enough. There is just something about Kruger that keeps you coming back. Since it's a wildlife park, not a zoo, the animals roam free and you can get as close to them as you (or they) dare. And this is just what we like to do. We had no idea, for example, that elephant had such cracked and wrinkled skin or that their ears are rather rough and jagged at the edges. Fascinating. We also like that the animals here are "wild". . . no zoo-keepers to look after them making sure they are nicely groomed for onlookers. No scrubbed faces, plucked eyebrows, manicured nails, or regular feeding times. It's all wild all the time. So, it's possible that you might not see anything at all. This is what makes Kruger so thrilling.

We got lucky. It turned out to be a day full of elephant. (Yes!) Now, I suppose it is reasonable to assume that people don't find elephant as interminably interesting as we do. But, we can't help but try to convince you of their indomitable power, grace, and beauty.

Of course, many of them didn't stick around very long...

But, we were close enough to one that we finally got to see some of the details we usually miss...ears, knees, tusks, trunk, and tail. (Hhmmm, this is sounding a bit like a primary song.)

Despite all of these exciting sightings, Neil found it possible to squeeze in a "quick, 5-minute" nap.

Actually, it was closer to 45 minutes. I can't blame him though. Those 2 two hours of church are pretty tough in the sweltering heat. Nothing like a little air conditioning and a serene, untamed landscape to knock you out. And, boy, was he out.

The only problem with this (aside from the possibility of him swallowing some bugs) is that he was supposed to be the "spotter". Who knows what we missed on the other side of the road while he was dreaming about Peanut Buster Parfaits and the Huskies actually winning a football game.

Upon his return to the land of the fully-conscious, however, he more than made up for his temporary absence. At his insistence, we took a little dirt side road we've never driven before which follows along the Timbavati River for several kilometers. It was here that he made some sightings about which I was very captivated and he was very proud. (Now that's the face of vindication).

A family of elephant in the grass! And a baby elephant to boot! They weren't too terribly attentive to us (typical behavior--unless you're eating something in front of a baboon), but still amazing. Eventually they wandered off into the trees and we moved along down the road.

Then Neil suggested we take the numerous circular outlets positioned along side the road. This was great fun at first since these little offshoots give you incredible views of the river and substantially increase the probability of spotting various wildlife. But, after a dozen of these side trips had yielded little more than a different angle of a dry river bed, I was not only a little nauseous but also slightly irritable. I was just about to invoke my last allotted veto of the year when we heard quite the ruckus coming from the river. Naturally, a grumbly stomach and a hint of annoyance take a back seat to this kind of potential sighting. So, we ventured onto the nearest circular offshoot where we were delighted to see yet another elephant family. Again, with baby in tow! Admit it, few things are better than baby elephant.

Actually, when we first happened upon this group, two adults were having some sort of elephant scuffle...trunks raised, tusks interlocked, bodies thrust against each other. Eventually one knocked the other down whereupon it fell onto it's side and rolled down the sloped riverbed. (Yes, really.) Not being animal behaviorists we have no idea what was going on, but we convinced ourselves that this little ruckus was the result one of them getting to close to the baby....probably the one that ended up on the ground. We were so enthralled by this interaction that by the time we managed to get the camera out, this little tussle was over. But you can see here the aftermath of the battle.

It's difficult to top this kind of sighting. But, to our delight, there was more to come. When we rounded the next corner, we found ourselves face-to-face with this beauty.

I'm certain I don't have to explain why we stayed here gawking for a good 30 minutes. We'd have stayed longer too, if we'd didn't need to get to the park gate before it closed. No problem. There is always next Sunday...

Thanksgiving, SA style

2008-11-29T07:17:00.023+02:00

There is a shocking lack of recognition and celebration surrounding American holidays in South Africa. (OK, we're not too shocked. And, if nothing else, this experience has given us a newfound understanding of immigrants' desires to preserve their native traditions.) "Thanksgiving? What's that? Are we suppose to be giving you thanks or something? For what? You Americans have so many weird holidays."

Now, without going into the nitty gritty of American history in all of its glorious inconsistency, it was difficult for us to explain the benefits of Thanksgiving outside of there being a huge amount of food and lots of family and friends around to help eat it. Luckily, that was a good enough explanation to merit having a little get-together...replete with much food and good company.

That said, it is a bit difficult to get the proper Thanksgiving fixings over here. Although there are plenty of Helmeted Guineafowl wandering around our front yard at any moment...

it's not really our style to choose one...chase it, catch it, slaughter it, pluck it, gut it, stuff it, cook it, and eat it. (If only they weren't so gamey.) Plus, we're hard-pressed to find the right side dishes to compliment said gamey fowl. Cranberry sauce and mom's made-from-scratch stuffing (YUM!) don't come too easy in these parts...especially with no moms around. We could rustle up some yams, green bean casserole, or mashed potatoes and gravy, but that doesn't really hit the right chord when it's 40 degrees Celsius. Nothing much does sound good when it's this hot. Except for maybe the ever-loved "Death By Chocolate" Magnum bar (the South African answer to Haagen Dazs) which offers complete bliss in any weather.

So, what to do? A pizza party, of course. Yeah! Calling all (six) friends: Thanksgiving in South Africa is a go!

Turns out one of our colleagues (the only other American) worked at a pizza place in his younger years. So, he had us over to show us how to make his super secret dough and delicious Chicago-style pizza. Seriously, it was phenomenal. Thick, chewy crust, just the right amount of tomato sauce, and loads of delectable toppings. For a brief moment I thought I was actually in Chicago.

Neil could hardly wait till it cooled...

All said and done, we made five of these scrumptious (and very large) pizzas. There was one with peppadews, artichoke hearts, and beet root that made my heart sing. Then it made my heart burn a bit too. But it was worth every burn-accompanied bite.

Another one was covered in nothing but cheese, beef sausage, and mince. Beef-lovers pizza, indeed.

I haven't heard Neil profess this much satisfaction with a meal since my mom visited Seattle in 2001 and made a spinach and mushroom quiche. (She maintains that it was nothing special. He refuses to admit/believe this). Of course, this time his euphoria may have had less to do with flattering a potential mother-in-law and more to do with the warm glow of a television...a common comfort of which he has perhaps been too long deprived. Ah, what could be better than gourmet pizza and South African soap operas? What a happy little Thanksgiving this was shaping up to be.

Of course, there was a tiny cooking mishap which resulted in the entire house filling with smoke. And when we opened the doors and windows, it filled with bugs too. So, we shut of all indoor lights and (rather reluctantly) made our way to the porch where although we would become the Thanksgiving feast for the bugs, at least we wouldn't asphyxiate to death. The fact that we might all live to see another day made us all pretty happy.

But, where is Neil? Well, you see, Neil is so brilliant a shade of white that the bugs thought he was a huge light bulb and their positive phototactic tendencies went into overdrive. After his arms got tired of swatting away trillions of giant winged-beetles that sound like fighter jets when they whiz by your head, he retired to the darkened house and proceeded to wash all the dishes. What a decent person...and superb dinner guest. He was making quite the headway too until this little friend of his ended up losing it's grip on the soapy surroundings and plunging into the dish water.

It's true that no rural South African event would be complete without some major bug component. But coming from the relatively bug-less haven of Seattle, it's taking us some time to adjust to all of these little creepy crawlies. And this little development brought our involvement in the evening's festivities to an abrupt close. "Bye, everyone! Got to run...bug in the sink. Happy Thanksgiving!"

Rainy Days

2008-11-25T17:34:00.005+02:00

The rainy season is upon us. Not only does this mean lots of much-needed water, but also lots of much-needed nighttime excitement...

This kind of light display usually even quells the young locals from “the village” (Acornhoek) who love to blast fusion music over loud speakers which we can actually hear quite well despite the fact that we are about 5 kilometers away and in the middle of the bush. 2am on a Saturday? Party on.

Now, there was something else that comes with the rains…what was it? Oh yes, bugs. Lots of bugs. (I don't know if worm-type things like centipedes and such are considered "bugs" by hoi polloi, but they certainly bother me, so I'm categorizing them as such).

Here is a sampling of a few little attractions I encountered on a 10-minute walk from our house to the WRF lodge just down the road:

I especially liked seeing this beetle take a quick dip in the community pool. And that's just what was floating on top of the water. Pool party, anyone?

My skin is crawling just looking at these pictures...and I still have to walk to walk back home. Ugh. Fortunately, there are also lots of things wandering around here that love to eat bugs. The so-called "critters" of the bush.

The gecko, for example loves flies...even the ones with wings! (This one seems rather rotund. I commend it for evidently ridding us of so many pesky bugs.)

This one is much more slim and should certainly eat more bugs, but deserves some accolades for not blending into it's environment and sneaking up on you when you're out and about.

Lizards are also a nice, natural bug-trap. The only problem with this one is that it likes to relax and sun itself on our windowsill in the afternoon making it a bit problematic to open the windows when it gets stuffy inside. But we encourage anything that reduces the surplus bug population, so we try not to disturb its meditations.

Birds are a great way to get rid of bugs. Not only do they eat lots of ants, termites, worms, etc. but they are quite a pleasure to watch...chirping and hopping about. Oddly, this one seems to have taken a particular likeness to our car. I think it may have mistaken it for a giant plum.

Spiders. I have yet to decide whether I prefer spiders to bugs. It doesn't really matter, of course, since it seems both spiders and bugs are omnipresent here. (Yes, that is our living room curtain...this one was about the size of Neil's palm. When he tried to swat it, it did a backflip off the curtain, landed on his side, and quickly proceeded to scurry up his arm. Neil instinctively performed a groovy 80's dance move to get it off of him and when it hit the floor he hit it...about 12 times with his shoe.)

Speaking of spiders...the other day in church I opened the closet to get a piece of chalk and encountered a spider perched on the inside of the door at eye-level. It was even bigger than the above. (Believe it if you dare.) But it was brown and skeleton-like. Ugh! The kids went into hysterics (uhm, aren't they supposed to be used to this kind of stuff?) and we had to eventually disturb the adult class in order for someone to come remove it with a garbage can and poster board. One heroic man took it outside. Of course, we had to take a little field trip too. When we were done gawking at it from a safe distance --"Whoa, it's SO big!" , "Yuck, it's looking at me!", "I wonder where it will live now.", "Do you think it's mommy will miss it?" (yeah, these kids are that cute)-- we went back inside to finish our lessons. After church we all raced outside to see it again. But, it was gone...

Then there are snakes. OK, I've only see one...a green mamba (small, but highly dangerous). I am more than happy I didn't get close enough or hang around long enough to photograph it. While we may not encounter many snakes, we do see more then our fair share of snicks, you know, sticks that look like snakes. Believe me, snicks are just as scary as snakes when you're out wandering in the bush all by your lonesome. (Aside: When Neil saw this picture he said: "No way, you found a snake? Oh, no. Wow, that stick really looks like a snake!" See, I told you.)

Other people around here have much better luck running across the real deal. A few days ago our neighbor excitedly reported to us that he had found a python in his garden. (I think he told us because he secretly wanted to see us squirm...which we did, of course.) A bit later in the conversation he urged us to come by for dinner sometime. We assured him we would as long as he was serving python stew...and lots of non-python side dishes.

Despite this intrepid crew of bug predators, there are still so many bugs! What are these things doing all day? For instance, the other night we heard what sounded like rain outside. This seemed odd since the skies had been clear and sunny all day. Plus, rains here are usually accompanied by plenty of lightning and thunder (as evidenced above). What was going on? On closer inspection (not too close, mind you), we discovered that about a zillion little beetles and winged ants were taking turns throwing themselves into our windows. It was raining...bugs!

We do our best to keep these kamikaze bugs outside by keeping the windows closed and squeezing through a partly-opened front door when we leave. If the bugs do manage to get inside, they rarely survive to the next morning. (Will they ever learn?) As a result, our windowsills get very crowded.

That's OK, though...because it gives us yet another picture to post on our blog that is sure to gross you out.

Close Encounters of the Animal Kind

2008-11-08T14:00:00.002+02:00

Enchanted as we were with our last visit, we traipsed back to Kruger twice last weekend...once on our way home from church. While we didn't see as many animals as the week before, we had some very interesting sightings. Quality over quantity. Even if you don't see a single animal, Kruger is still incredible. I mean, look at this place!

On Friday we drove for about 100 km without seeing a single animal. Admittedly, this was a bit disheartening until we remembered we weren't at work...good enough for us. Then on the side of the road we glimpsed this tortoise. Great! You wouldn't believe how excited we were. We tarried for quite awhile taking what probably amounted to too many pictures of a tortoise. People driving past us on the other side of road slowed down to see what all the fuss was about. But when they didn't see anything noteworthy, they sped off a bit bewildered and slightly annoyed.

After the tortoise sighting, we couldn't keep the animals away. From the Oliphants River Bridge you can usually spot lots of wildlife. It is one of the only places in the park (except, of course, rest spots and overnight camps) that you can get out of your car. Typically, we're a little embarrassed to get out and take pictures because everyone else has massive cameras with gargantuan telephoto lenses and tripods bigger than our kitchen stools. We have a hand-held Panasonic and another lesser camera that lasts about 3 minutes with new batteries. But we needed to stretch our legs.

Good thing we did too. Is this Wild Kingdom or what? In a single spot you find kudo, baboon, monkey, and impala....not to mention all of this set against a vast and beautiful background.

Then just move the camera about 60 degrees north and you see hippo and a crocodile co-existing nicely. Of course, these hippo aren't interested in eating the crocodile. And the poor croc just can't get his mouth open wide enough to eat those hippo. He was patiently waiting for something though...maybe that stork just a few steps away...

Turn to the other side of the bridge and you see elephant lounging in the river or walking along the riverbed.

C'mon, if these baby elephant don't make you smile then nothing will. What a place!

Speaking of elephant...this time we got pretty intimate with some. Yeah, this could be a postcard. But it's not! (Note: Those of you who detest elephant should stop reading this blog. Seriously.)

How's this for a close up? (Maybe too close.) Neil wants to drive next time so we don't ever get this close again.

We watched this one try to grab a tasty green leaf that was just out of its reach.

These elephant were taking turns drinking from a big water silo that fills up with rainwater during the springtime. The big one has perched its tusks on the ridge and plunged it trunk down inside. Incredible.

We think these two were playing with each other, but can't be sure. (We're thinking about becoming animal behaviorist just to make our blog reports more accurate.)

This one crossed the road behind our car to munch on some tasty greens. It was attempting to eat in peace, but finally gave up after a couple cars came whizzing by disturbing its snack time.

Of course, when you're with an entire herd of elephant you command the traffic. Which in this case meant: "Stop!"

Or you can be a lone elephant, but very large. That will also stop traffic.

Now, if this doesn't leave you speechless then...then you'd better come to Kruger and experience it firsthand.

We also happened upon a leopard this time. OK, "happened upon" is probably a mis-characterization since when we rounded the corner there were about 15 cars pulled off to the side of the road with people hanging out of the windows and popping through roofs armed to the hilt with cameras. Spotting a leopard in Kruger is rare, so people take it very seriously. Remember we mentioned "The Big Five"? Well, this is one of them.

This is what we saw:

This is what the leopard saw:

People here will ram your car just to get a better camera angle. You think we're joking. We're not. Sometimes we're more afraid of the people than the wild animals.

Then again, when you run across a pride of lion feasting on a hippo they've just killed you tend to take your chances with the people.

Since we went early in the morning, we glimpsed a hyena scavenging something that demanded most of its attention. We were glad it wasn't us.

We saw lots of buffalo this time around.

I think we may have mentioned already that you don't really want to mess with buffalo as they are quite unpredictable and tend to enjoy bashing things with their horn-helmet heads. But it gets a little tricky when one of them decides to take up most of the road during his afternoon stroll. We waited behind this big one for several minutes hoping that all the cars passing it on the other side of the road wouldn't irritate him enough to head-butt our car. We couldn't help but laugh when he seemed a bit bewildered by it all. Anything to ease the tension.

Wildebeest are...well, they're very much like cattle. But they look a little more exotic and have a much cooler name. But, so far, we have failed to muster up the same levels of excitement for these creatures as for others. If only they could grow to be three times their actual size and then threaten our lives by breathing fire or something...

There is nothing quite like spotting a baboon with her baby on the side of the road...even if it is true that it seems baboon are always on the side of the road. I wonder if they are looking for a lift somewhere. We watched these two for a few moments. And they, in turn, watched us...very intently. A nice, cordial encounter. Then Neil started munching on an apple and before we knew it the mother was headed straight for his open window. Yikes! No worries...I believe my ears have healed from the high-pitched scream that followed. Although, I will admit to some lingering aches from the whiplash I must have incurred as we peeled out of there.

To round out the journey, we spent some time gazing at the ever-mellow giraffe. No life-threatening encounters here. Just pure enjoyment.

And just before our way out of the park, we spotted one last elephant in the grass.

At a much safer distance this time.

Halloween

2008-11-01T09:28:00.015+02:00

Turns out people don’t really do Halloween in rural South Africa. Who knew? It's a shame, really. I adore that time of year when going to Fred Meyer means finding not one but three entire aisles full of candy. (Sometimes we miss the way America does overkill so well.) Then again, we don’t mind too much because with no Halloween there is no pressure to dress up for work or attend costume parties. Since neither of us is too keen on that, it was nice to have a year off…not from dressing up, but of being the weirdos who don't.

But, the kids around our housing facility here do know a little about Halloween. (No surprise there. I would expect kids most anywhere to know about a holiday where they can get free candy.) But their understanding is a bit sketchy. They basically associate Halloween with three things: Americans, scary costumes, and candy. The details/protocols are a bit hazy. Regardless, they have been dutifully reminding their parents about this day all month long. And their parents have been dutifully putting them off all month long. Until yesterday when at around 10am one such parent rushes into our office and says: “I’m afraid I need some Americans, tonight!" Luckily, we knew where to find a couple of them. “So, it's Halloween today...and do you know about treated trickery?” he probed, making sure that we were the real deal. “Oh, do you mean ‘trick or treat’?” we asked. He wasn’t too certain about that, but wanted to verify that if he brought a load of kids over that evening, they would get something made with lots of sugar. Otherwise he would have a lot of angry, sugar-hungry kids on his hands. “Sure, bring them by! We’ve got you covered,” we assured him.

We were excited. We’ve never had trick-or-treaters. But, alas, we had no candy. (OK, Neil would like me to clarify that there were and are about 30 packages of Reisens in the drawer of my bedside table. And I would like to clarify that that caliber of sweet is off limits to holiday festivities including anyone other than myself.) So, off we went to the local grocery store. We like one particular store, Score, a lot. Mainly because it's close to work, has great fresh-baked rolls every afternoon, and because we know we're going to be stared at the whole time. It's right in the middle of the city plaza and the number of white people who go there on a regular basis you could count on zero hands. Except when we go. Then it stirs things up a bit. It's like being a celebrity...sort of. But instead of people thinking we're wonderful and gushing all over us they more likely wonder why we are here and if we need a taxi ride out of town.

Despite it's many qualities, Score offers slim pickings in terms of little Halloween-type candies. It's more of a meat, mealies, and veggies kind of place. Could we give them marshmallows? Or sweet potatoes perhaps? I think not! So, we ended up buying whole chocolate bars and snack-size bags of cheese curls (after all, it’s nice to balance the sweet with the salty). The cashier gave us a quizzical look upon noticing our overabundance of junk food (although not as suspicious as the look we got the other day when we bought all the tortilla chips and Reisens from the Super Spar in Nelspruit). “It’s Halloween!” we exclaimed, forgetting that she probably hadn't the slightest idea what we were talking about. "Have a what? Move along, silly Americans," I would be thinking if I were her. At least, that's what I was thinking. She just shook her head and checked us out as quickly as possible.

We went home.

We waited.

And waited.

Just when we were about to pack it in for the evening eight ghouls converged on our house…screaming, wailing, knocking on our windows, opening our doors, and chanting: “Candy! Candy! Candy!” Now, this isn’t exactly how we did Halloween when we were kids. Usually we tip-toed up to front doors, knocked politely as if we were just asking to borrow some innocuous household item, and then we did something we thought was a completely original idea...screamed “Trick or Treat!” at the top of our lungs as some (presumably unassuming) person opened the door. Then that person would fain surprise or horror, tell us we looked "soooo scary", give us a treat in our little plastic pumpkins, and tell us to be safe as we headed onto the next house. Sound familiar? Ah, those were the days.

All in all, these kids went through the Halloween rigmarole surprisingly well (except for the plastic pumpkin...I just don't see that catching on around here). We tried to offer them onions and peppers after making them pledge allegiance to the American flag (the trick, you see). They saw through our shenanigans. Although, I think we had them really questioning what Halloween was all about until one of them sniffed out the candy bowl within seconds of entering the house. I’ve never seen a bowl of treats disappear faster. Nor have I heard more immediate discussions about the fair distribution of chocolate bars. Happy Halloween, indeed!

Superpowers

2008-11-01T09:26:00.015+02:00

This is a pile of dirt:

(Keep reading. This gets more interesting...). It’s mostly composed of gecko droppings, beetle carcasses, and flying insect remains. Every morning one of us sweeps off the counters, tables, window sills, stairs, etc. and every morning the other one finds a way to stand in this nicely arranged pile of dirt before it goes out the front door. (I suppose my attempt to make this anonymous is futile. You can probably guess who fulfills which of these roles).

One morning after I had swept up, Neil came downstairs, walked straight to the pile of dirt, stood in it, and walked back upstairs to finish whatever he was doing. No words. No explanation. No purpose. Nothing. Upon his return downstairs I questioned him about this very odd and slightly irritating behavior. To his credit, he acknowledged that it was both odd and mostly likely very irritating (what a good spouse). He then continued with a rather intriguing argument: “I can’t help it”, he explained, “I’m…I’m like Superman. He has superpowers. I have superpowers. He can fly really fast and jump over tall buildings and lift up heavy objects. Me? I can find dirt…anywhere.” Now, it is true that Neil has an uncanny knack for finding dirt (as partly evidenced by our morning routine and the height of our weekly laundry pile). And he testifies that, like Superman, he has been this way since he was a kid. For example, he would always be the dirtiest one on the soccer field. People would ask: “Neil, why are you so dirty?” He would only shrug his shoulders and reply: “I don’t know.”

Now, perhaps Neil has something here. We don’t ask why Superman has his powers, he just does. But what about the functionality of those superpowers? I can see the usefulness of flying at speeds not known to man, of being bullet-proof, or of being able to put out fires or freeze water with your breath. But what is the purpose of being able to find piles of dirt? “Well, let’s just consider this:” Neil responded quickly, proving that he still retains more than his fair share of impromptu skills, “suppose a child is sweeping up some dirt around a well. This well happens to be made of lead." (Don't ask why or what the health/environmental repercussions are of having a lead well). "Now," Neil reasons, "the child trips somehow, and falls into this well. Superman can’t see through lead, but I can find dirt. So, someone who knew the child was last seen sweeping dirt could just call me. I would come, find the pile of dirt, and locate the child in the well ultimately saving his or her life.”

Surprisingly, I follow his logic, but must make an important clarification: “Doesn’t Superman have super-hearing? Couldn’t he hear the child in the well?" Neil thinks about it for only a moment and replies: “Yes. You’re right. Good point. So, Superman and I are the only ones who could save the child…unless, of course, Superman had a nasty head-cold that day. Then it’s all up to me.”

Well, (no pun intended) I'm convinced.

Anjo's Chicken and Car Wash

2008-10-24T17:58:00.005+02:00

A distinct sense of excitement grows at work as word circulates that I’ll be taking my first trip to a local hotspot for lunch. The journey begins by piling in a car with 5 other people on a hot and muggy Friday afternoon. We drive 1 kilometer through the middle of town until we reach our destination: Anjo’s Chicken & Car Wash. People come from all around to have just a taste of their flame-braaied, peri-peri chicken.

The owner, Ian, is in a corner in the back, sitting uncomfortably while recovering from the gunshot wound he received 6 weeks ago from a local competitor. Behind him, you can still see the burn marks on the wall from the recent fire-bombing. Indeed, the competition is fierce and of a different kind in Acornhoek. If you want to own a chicken and car wash then you gotta be tough and your chicken better be good.

We sit down in this dark, dingy place with dirt floors and graffiti-accented cement walls. If it’s not covered in grease then it probably just walked in. There are six tables and most of them are located in cavernous corners where conversations are private and others will not notice you. I am with a group of ten so I feel somewhat safe. However, I am always looking over my shoulder and checking my wallet to see if it’s still there.

We begin to order. As I hear the words, “Full Chicken. Extra hot!” and “Make mine super spicy!” my stomach braces itself for what could be the second installment of Shock and Awe. Fortunately, I am sitting across from a colleague …a sweet lady in her early 50s…who has seen plenty of hot and spicy food in her day and seeks to address my anxiety by assuring me we will share the mild version. I keep quite while she does the ordering. After she finishes ordering one mild full chicken and one can of Tab (I thought they discontinued that soda), the waiter turns to me and asks what I want to drink. I am not sure why but I am little scared to answer, however I am able to get out an insecure rendition of the words, “Sprite? May I have a can of Sprite, please?” Once the waiter finishes with our table he drops our order off at the kitchen and crosses the busy intersection almost getting hit by a truck full of bananas in order to pick up our drinks from the local quickie mart across the street. (There are only two crosswalks in Acornhoek and neither are even close to Anjo’s. If you thought George Costanza was good at Frogger wait until you see these guys at work.).

Soon, a bowl of water and a wet towel are passed around so that we can wash up. Knowing that for most of the people around the table this will be the first time today they have cleaned their hands, I hesitantly place mine just above the water and make the appropriate hand-washing motions hoping no one will notice I didn’t actually touch the bowl of what could only be disease-laden, bacteria-infested water. No deal. Someone is looking right at me. I have to put my hands in the water. I dry them with the communal towel that is now crawling with everyone’s germs. I will later realize this is the most sanitary it gets around here.

Today we’re lucky. The chicken comes on a paper plate. Typically the chicken arrives on their best china which means you will probably find some chicken bits from the previous carnivore since they don’t exactly go through a vigorous washing up process between customers. Everyone starts reaching for the chicken and begins ripping it apart with their bare hands. Across from me there is my colleague (the one who is looking out for me). She smiles and begins tearing the chicken to shreds. She and I are sharing one full, mild chicken today.

I have been careful not to touch the table since I noticed right off that the plastic tablecloth hasn’t been washed or changed since Anjo’s was established some 8 to10 years ago. I ask in my nasal American accent, “Where are the plates? What about the utensils?”. Most people are intent on devouring their chickens. Everyone at the table answers in unison, “Use your fingers! And put your bones on the table! (Naïve American!)”. I look around to find little piles of chicken bones in front of everyone. And I really mean just the bone. These bones have been pulled, picked, sucked, and slurped dry of any notion of chicken or joint or fat or marrow.

I start to squirm in my seat but begin to pull some chicken from the furthest corner of my closest competitor. Then the fries come. The sauce is incredible until you realize it is really just grease. I start in but stop suddenly when I see another co-worker sitting adjacent from me stick a handful of fries in his mouth with his fingers, licking them as he goes for another handful. It was painful to watch…even for me. I keep to the chicken. The chicken is amazing. Absolutely delicious once you look past the fact you are probably going to get hepatitis with a capital C or whatever is ailing the guy sitting next to you. Realizing there are no napkins and my only opportunity at cleaning my hands is to stick them back into the green plastic bowl of water, I sip on the only clean thing in front of me, my one and only friend that day (besides the nice colleague who was looking out for me), Sprite. I look across the table and catch the eye of another patron who smiles at me with teeth full of chicken and a glimmer in her eye. Happiness. People start to notice that the sweet lady sitting across from me has a bone yard of chicken bones in front of her while I have just a drumstick and a wing. The laughter begins and the comments start coming. I sit and take it while sipping on my Sprite hoping I didn’t just catch Hep C. Happiness? I think so!

Driving in South Africa

2008-10-19T18:24:00.005+02:00

Imagine driving in Utah...or on Germany's autobahn.

Now quantify this experience.

Multiply that number by 837.

Add animals...the meandering, unpredictable types like goat, cow, pig, dog...

and people walking to work from one town to the next...

or looking for a lift to work...

or people already working...

Then subtract any sort of standardized traffic code.

Divide by zero traffic enforcement.

Finally, exponentiate by driving on the other side of the road + shifting gears with your left hand.

Result: Driving in South Africa.

So, yes, it can be rather "white-knuckle" to drive here. Even our little Fromer's guide decries the road we travel back and forth to work everyday (the R40) as one of the most dangerous roads in the country. In fact, the author specifically advises travelers to avoid this road after dusk...which we do (don't worry moms!).

Most of the main roads are two-lane highways with speed limits up to 120 km/hr. Of course, sometimes people in front of you go 60. They will tell you they do this because it "saves petrol", but it's really because they are carrying a bunch of stuff in the back....household goods, firewood, people...

If you're not sitting behind one of these overloaded vehicles (or even if you are) chances are someone behind you wants to go 140. Now, if it happens that someone wants to pass/"overtake" you (and you'll know when they want to overtake because they get about 7 inches from your back bumper and sit there waiting) the protocol is for you to move to the far left of your lane or the shoulder (if there is one) and let the person pass on the right of the lane which ends up being the middle of the two lane road. Thrilling, isn't it?

It's especially exciting when drivers on both sides of the road try to overtake simultaneously...

Now, if you don't want to drive, you could always take the taxi. But this means waiting at your local taxi rank...

or on the side of the road somewhere...

Either way, once you're in that taxi, it spells TB to us. (OK, we admit we're probably overly concerned about disease these days. But you'll have trouble convincing us that our paranoia is a problem in this case.)

But make no mistake: driving here is not all the animal-swerving and car-dodging thrill ride that we're making it out to be. If you can manage to get away from the animals and people, the surroundings are quite incredible. South Africa offers you a little bit of everything.

From far-reaching flatlands...

grandiose greenery...

and climatic cliffs...

to orderly orange orchards...

and beautiful banana fields (even more bewitching when they are in focus)...

Not to mention the home-scattered hills...

Plus, if your South African driving experience has left you feeling a little shaken you can always stop for some munchies along the way...the locally-grown avocados here are especially tasty (but be sure to ask for the "non-Hep C" ones).

Or pick up a few handmade rugs, pots, or plastic roosters for the homestead.

Why roosters you ask? Nobody really knows. They're just the rage right now. Can't really explain it. (Kind of like "hammer pants" in the late 80s.) But, we're thinking of getting a pair to pose in our front yard and confuse the baboons....maybe then they'll think twice about rummaging through our garbage. Or they'll rip them apart and leave their wooden remains scattered about the yard. Unfortunately, the latter sounds most probable.

Animals Galore!

2008-10-18T18:02:00.007+02:00

What is it like to live in rural South Africa, you ask? It's like living in a gigantic zoo...except the animals are less well-groomed (albeit happier) and we have to feed ourselves.

One of the greatest perks of being here is that we get to have daily encounters with animals we would never dream of seeing back home.

The most prominent of all our newfound animal friends are impala (much like antelope or deer). Every morning we wake up to a brilliant sunrise and a herd of impala wandering through our front yard. This male was keeping a close eye on us as we left for work the other morning. You can't really tell from this angle, but impala have black markings on their hind legs and tail which form an "M" shape. Park rangers like to refer to them as the "McDonalds of The Bush" because they are cheap (to hunt and "bag") and they are everywhere. Oh, the big plants to the right of it are aloe. They grow fairly large here and provide lots of nutrients for various bugs and birds. Plus, they look real neat.

Typically, on our way to work, we also spot a few waterbuck (which look to me like a cross between impala and mules). These three were a tad concerned about how much attention we were paying them. Unlike impala, these have a rather different backside...a white ring that looks like a target...not very subtle markings, if you ask me.

Kudu are very similar to impala and waterbuck (different genus, though) except for the hump on their back...built a bit more like moose than deer. And their antlers seem to be larger than the impala, in general, but I can't be certain about that so don't go spreading the word that they are.

Then there's our fine friend the gecko. Small, unassuming, and omnipresent. The gecko is to South Africa like the squirrel is to the North West. (I don't know what in the North West is analogous to the South African squirrel...). They hang out in trees, scurrying across roads and patios, and seem quite at home on windowsills. This one, dubbed "Gene", likes to hang out by my wet flip flops in the mornings. Fine by me. I'm slightly more concerned about his'er friend who scurries across our walls inside the house. I've seen this friend only once, but have encountered a great deal more of its skat here and there (little brown, ovular drops with white tips). Despite this being a tad off putting, I've managed to welcome our little geckos since they are the #1 predators of the huge, flying, light-crazed beetles that insist on dive-bombing our window screens at night. Go, Gene! Get those beetles, my squirmy, slimy, squishy pal!

OK, I know what you're thinking: "Oh, this is nice, but I can see stuff like this in Arizona." So noted. But, these are just what we see around our yard!

Kruger National Park

That said, we too got a hankering for something a little more exotic in the animal department, so this weekend we traipsed off to Kruger National Park. Now, Kruger is something like 528 hectares of pristine wilderness. A biodiversity hotspot. It houses 147 mammal, 336 tree, 507 bird, 49 fish, 34 amphibian, and 114 reptile species. And it's practically our backyard!

We live off Orpen Road, which leads to one of the main park gates only 30 km south. The sun rises at about 5am these days, so we were up and in the park before 7am. The earlier the better otherwise it gets too hot ("engofu" in Shangaan) and the animals seldom like to move around in the heat.

Some weeks ago, a friend had mentioned to us that he had a "Wild Card" pass for Kruger which is basically the equivalent of the U.S. National Parks pass permitting free access to all national parks for the next year. He wasn't sure if we could get this, since we're not South African or permanent residents here. Slightly discouraged, but far from deterred, we gave it a shot. As Neil spoke with the park ranger (in his endearing and self-effacing way), flashed our passports/visas, and made a few jokes about how many ice-cream bars he had eaten in the last week due to the heat, I began to feel the Wild Card was within our grasp. And indeed it was! Within a few short minutes we had managed to gain access to all the wilds of South Africa! What is more, because we are classified as "temporary residents" on our visas, the ranger gave us the national rate instead of the international rate...which is equivalent to the difference in price between in-state and out-of-state college tuition. Sweet!

Happy as clams (ah, clams...seafood...Seattle...) we bounded back to our plum polo and into the park...rules and regulations duly noted.

Inside the park, you can always find animals around waterholes. Especially in the winter when water is scarce. But this isn't the best way to see animals close up because the parking lots are usually quite far from the water..."for obvious reasons," as Noam Chomsky would say. To have more intimate encounters you have to drive very slow (and sometimes very far) keeping your eyes peeled along the way. Fortunately, since there were two of us, one could pay attention to the road while the other served dual purposes as navigator and spotter. Perfect.

All said, we were downright gleeful at how many different animals we got to see...both up close and from afar. Here's just a taste of what we feasted on (with our eyes, of course...we're not into eating wild game...too"game-y" tasting).

Warthog:
These are not perhaps the most impressive of beasts, but I tend to think they are pretty great. Their main interest: digging. "Those little guys have no respect for fences," our ecologist friend exclaimed. Turns out they sleep in the holes in the ground they dig themselves. Nifty. And they seem rather harmless just kind of trotting around looking for grubs, digging holes in gardens, and destroying fence lines. Unless, of course, you happen to disturb them in the wee hours of the morning and they come charging out of their holes squealing and grunting...which happened to me just this morning on a jog through the bush. Luckily, it turns out we both have the flight reflex.

Zebra:
We drove for a while seeing no animals. Then in this clearing we came across a huge herd of zebra. There must have been over 100 of them stretched across the vast, flat landscape. These few had the right idea to hang around in the shade since it was blistering hot.

We were a bit sad when this herd eventually wandered off since we had so enjoyed just watching them be zebra. But then we just happened to look to the other side of the road...more zebra! Yes! This one found something worthwhile enough on the ground that it let us get pretty close. It's rather incredible to see so many zebra at the same time because then you start to see the differences in the colors and patterns of their seemingly identical hides.

Giraffe:
I am constantly amazed by giraffe. The long, skinny legs; the massive, muscular torso; the extended, agile neck; and the petite, delicate head on top of it all. Such an usual looking animal. A body that appears to be quite awkward. But I have yet to see an animal carry itself with more elegance.

This one was out for a mid-morning stroll across the plains and immediately veered the other direction once we showed up on the scene. We followed it as best we could, but lost it behind some trees.

To our delight, another giraffe was less deterred by our presence. This one headed straight across the road in front of our car....followed by a few kudu who couldn't resist the power of suggestion.

Once across the road, it joined its friends to munch on the tasty spring leaves of the this twisty tree (OK, so, we haven't learned the names of all the vegetation yet...too busy gawking at all the animals).

We pulled up closer, for a better look. (Hhhmm, I've just noticed this video is a bit shaky. But it took me so long to upload I'm not about to delete it. Just be warned that this may induce headaches or nausea).

Baboons:
Of all the animals we've encountered so far, baboons are the least skittish. You might say they have quite a large dose of gumption. We know this because we often see baboon around our house...or at least evidence of baboon. They are constantly breaking into our garbage can which is secured with a heavy stick and thick wire. Somehow they manage to pry it open, reach inside, pull out all the garbage, take what they want, and leave the rest strewn about the yard. Kind of a twisted "welcome home from work" party once a week. And if you're shrewd enough to catch them in the act you have to chase them off using a loud, stern voice and lots of hand-arm motion...they don't just run away from you like a good little warthog.

But we nearly forgot this endearing little characteristic of the baboon as we watched a family with lots of new babies mosey across the road in front of us.

Then the alpha-male of the group plopped himself on the other side of the road to watch over the crossing.

At times he became a bit distracted. Alas, it is frustratingly difficult getting a decent manicure in the wild.

But he appeared to more than make up for his evident shirking by his rather militant stance afterward. Either that, or he was trying to hold very still so we wouldn't see him. Or maybe he was trying to catch our attention for the perfect photo opportunity while his family members busted into our car. Hey, was that the sound of the trunk opening...?

The Big Five

The so-called "Big Five" have been dubbed such because they are the five most dangerous animals to hunt. They are: the lion, leopard, white rhino, elephant, and buffalo. (We learned, however, that these are not necessarily the most deadly creatures in South Africa. The mosquito, in fact, is the number one killer of humans...malaria... followed by the hippo. You do not want to get between a hippo and water. Apparently if they get frightened they'll charge straight to the water through whatever stands in their way).

We only saw two of the Big Five this weekend, mainly because we went to the places where elephant and buffalo were spotted early that morning. But with our new Wild Card pass we can go back as often as we like and maybe spot the other three before our year ends. Of course, we're not too put out that we didn't see any lion this time around. Turns out a Kruger trail guide who was leading a wilderness safari in the park was mauled by a lioness early this week. She was protecting her cubs of which the group wanted too close a look. Yikes! But we did spend some time with elephant and buffalo.

Elephant:
Now, usually elephant are pretty shy...

so, it's difficult to get a close up look at their faces. But even from afar they took our breath away...much like the feeling kids experience on Christmas morning.

These two found a nice little waterhole atop a hill safely distanced from the road where they proceeded to cool themselves. We wondered how we could get them to shoot some of that water our way...for some reason it seemed much more effective than our air conditioner.

That little slice of elephant life pretty much clinched it for us...we adore these "lumbering giants". Good thing too, because we had happened into elephant country. Just down the road a bit we came across these elephant who were also attempting to avoid the heat...sans water.

And this herd, down the road even further, was spending the afternoon frolicking in the (appropriately named) Oliphants River. Upon closer inspection, we could see there were a few (very large) bulls, several females, and a good number of baby elephant. One particularly energetic baby would cool off by bending its back legs and submerging its lower body in the river while simultaneously splashing water on its head via its little baby elephant trunk. The rest of the herd pretended to ignore these shenanigans.

We, on the other hand, couldn't keep our eyes off them...

I suppose you could conclude that we were a bit more awake than we were on the sunset game drive our current employers took us on back in July...the very day we arrived in South Africa. That day, all the wild animals in the world were no match for our ability to sleep sitting up. (Notice how peppy the woman sitting on the other side of the truck is. Well, she had been in town for a week and managed to get plenty of sleep in the meantime.)

Buffalo:
To us, buffalo are a bit scary. First of all, they have those curly, intimidating horns. Second, they are rather muscular...and with muscle comes power. Third, we're told they are very unpredictable. Curly horns + power + unpredictably = we're fine being all the way over here. One park ranger related the time he was guiding a safari and out of nowhere a buffalo appears from the bush, charges toward the group, and rams the side of the truck with its huge horns. See, scary. But this one seemed pretty relaxed...chillin' out in the shade with its buddies.

In fact, turns out elephant were more scary than the buffalo this time. This one tromped into the buffalo camp and decided to stir things up a bit...

Once we realized we could exit this little scene with all our limbs and car parts intact, our heart rates returned to normal, and we slowly forged ahead hoping the elephant would prefer the next waterhole to our plum polo.

All in all, a completely extraordinary day. One full of wonder, beauty, excitement, reverence, and awe. Not too shabby. Not too shabby at all.

One Incredible Tree...I Mean Pub...I Mean Tree...

2008-10-13T16:12:00.024+02:00

We discovered that there is a rather legendary tree just up the road from where we attend church.

So, on a lazy Sunday afternoon we road-tripped up to Mojadji to see if we could glimpse this infamous Baobab tree. It took us a while to navigate the twisty, unmarked roads, but eventually we found our way.

It wasn't too far from the main road that we spotted this single tree lording over the rest of the landscape. Majestic as anything we've ever seen. The closer we got, the more exclamatory gasps escaped our lips accompanied by never-before-uttered sets of words like: "Whoa!" "That's amazing!" "Now, that's a big tree!" "I can't believe how big this tree is!" "What a huge tree!" OK, so we weren't very original that afternoon. But I dare anyone to see this tree and not blurt out those exact phrases. That's right...I dare you.

I mean, look at this thing:

Look how it dwarfs the people lounging underneath its gigantic branches. What a tree.

We were delighted to learn that this particular tree is estimated to be over 6,000 years old, more than 20 metres tall, and about 50 metres in diameter. Aside from its age and size, it's just plain unusual looking...heavy, gnarled branches covered with bumps and bulges. And it even still bears fruit.

But, to our surprise, these facts are not what make this particular tree famous. Turns out someone came along and gutted it to put a pub inside. (Huh? Who looks at such an impressive feat of nature and thinks: "Gee, Sam, that tree sure would make a swell pub."?). When it was fully functional (e.g., beers on tap and all that), it held up to 20 people. It's now defunct. You can still purchase drinks at the visitor's center nearby and drink it under the tree, but it's just not the same.

The tidbit we found most interesting was the article published in the local newspaper (a copy of which was nicely laminated and proudly posted inside the tree-pub) about two teenagers who carved their initials into the tree after refusing to pay the viewing fees (R10 or about $1). The author, who dutifully relayed the voice of other townspeople, was aghast that these disrespectful teenagers would deface such a beloved monument. We wondered what he thought of the people who gutted it for the sake of a pub.

I was stern about not tapping the local brew, but it appears Neil disagreed.

A New Home

2008-10-12T16:40:00.031+02:00

Where In the World Are We? These days we live just outside the village of Acornhoek located in the Limpopo Province of South Africa. This is in the north-eastern most area of the country and skirts the western-most boarder of Kruger National Park, one of the few publicly-accessible game reserves. (If you want to see a fairly exciting Krugar video clip with lots of animal action, look here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LU8DDYz68kM). And we are only a few hours drive away from Maputo, Mozambique a coastal capital famous for its huge, fresh prawns.

Getting down to the nitty gritty...we live in a place called Wits Rural Facility (WRF) which is a compound/facility run by Witwatersrand University to house people involved in rural-based research projects that are affiliated with the university. People like us, for example, who are helping with a Health and Demographic Surveillance Site (HDSS) focused on 23 rural villages nearby and based out of the the village of Agincourt. It's nice that we're not the only geeks here.

Now, to put to rest the minds of those who you are concerned that we may be living in claustrophobic mud-huts with "moo poo" walls, we've included some pics of our new place. Make no mistake: we are livin' large.

Our House: Dubbed "Cisticola" by the WRF owners after a genus of very small insectivorous birds not unlike the warbler. You may notice that it has a lovely thatched roof, the benefits of which (compared to a metal roof) were described to us in detail by the managers and fellow residents. Basically, they all boil down to this: it's cooler when it's hot outside and hotter when it's cooler outside. Now, the so-called "costs" of such a roof were slightly less annunciated. In fact, it was difficult to squeeze this information out of people because basically a thatched roof means more "critters" as roommates. The owners' advice to us: just remain calm if at sometime during our stay, we glance around and spot a squirrel, owl, iguana, or snake on our table or lying between us in bed. If this happens, I think remaining calm will be the last thing on our minds. By the way, I love how they refer to these animals as "critters". As if referring to them this way makes them more lovable than if I were to call them "pests". OK, it kind of does.

The Kitchen: How could we live without a green kitchen? Answer: We couldn't. We've never had a bar in the kitchen before, and we are loving it...and barstools too! Neil and I take turns pouring each other glasses of apple-pear juice and listening to each other's heart-wrenching stories of lost loves...Paseo's chicken sandwiches, overcast afternoons, Chocolate Almond Indulgence ice cream, sailboats on Lake Union, 7-11 Slurpees, the Burke-Gillman trail, Gorditos' burritos, non-sunburned skin, Pagliacci's pepperoni pizza...

The Leather Chairs: Our project coordinators were all ready to snag us a delightful little lounge suite which doubled as patio furniture....light-weight bamboo frame, dark abstract-art material for the cushions. Quite nice, actually.

But...turns out we found a smashing deal on a couple of chocolate-brown leather recliners in Nelspruit (the capital of Mpumalanga Province and about a 2-hour drive away). Lucky for us, one of the chairs was broken and the price had been reduced to 1/4 of its original price. One salesperson, who obviously misjudged how cheap we are, tried to sell us a chair that was three times as expensive. "Uh, no." Then quoted us a repair price for the recliner of 1,000 Rand (about $110). "Again, no." We took a gamble and crammed the chair into the plum Polo "as-is". (Yes it fit...believe it, if you can!). So, we went across the street to Builders Warehouse (the South African equivalent Home Depot) picked up two bolts, two nuts, and four washers...7 Rand (< $1) and half an hour later we had ourselves a perfectly functional leather recliner. We even made double chocolate muffins at the same time. What better treat to go with our chocolate chairs? . . The New Bed: Yes, that's right, we finally got a new bed. The day before I arrived, in fact. So, Neil no longer has to sleep on a twin-sized bed with used sheets and blankets that smell like a game drive. I do believe he's quite happy about that.
The other night we went to bed with a bunch of winged beetles flying around our lamps and dive-bombing our heads (another plug for the short hair, by the way). So, to get back at them (in our preferred pacifistic way) we put up our mosquito net. Bring it on, bugs!

The Plum Polo: Meet our latest set of wheels. After exhausting the country's used-car lots, and making lots of new "best friends", Neil finally came across this little beauty. It's sleek, stylish, and (with a 1.4-liter engine) very fuel-efficient. As an added plus, we were able to side-step the whole used-car-dealer universe by buying from it directly from the previous owner (leave it to good, old-fashioned networking). The downside: it's a bit gutless. Fortunately, we tend to be able to pass most of the vehicles on the roads around here...usually construction/farming vehicles or pickup trucks (a.k.a. "buckys") overloaded with people or household furnishings, or both (see pic below...and imagine all the other cars whizzing by at 120km/hr...yikes!). Of course, while the plum Polo is no replacement for the Subaru (the value of which our good friends, the Chandlers, have managed to increase substantially by prying open the back door open...and getting it closed again!), it'll certainly do. Great car hunting, Neil!

Salutations!

2008-10-11T09:39:00.024+02:00

Greetings family, friends, colleagues, acquaintances, and strangers who managed to find this blog either by mistake or by intention...hopefully any of the former, since the latter would be downright creepy.

After a rousing bout weighing the pros and cons of becoming bloggers, we ultimately decided that this would be the most efficient way for us to let you all know what we're up to these days. Plus, it's relative easy for everyone else...you don't even have to email us to remind us that we're completely neglecting you (although we do love emails and we adore Skype chats, so keep them coming!)

But if you've got a jones for a little (Liddle) more Roche, then take this blog and read it. If not, then just carry on without us. It's all good.

Our only real news of late is this: we moved to South Africa. More about this to follow...

The Hair Cut: If there was one thing I learned from the often-speech-delayed (but entirely free, so we dealt with it), Skype-mediated chats Neil and I had between South Africa and Seattle it was this: South Africa is hot! And all of his raving about how much better his life had been since he shaved his head (#3 on the top, #2 on the sides) made me think: "I should definitely cut off all my hair before I go over there." So, I consulted the best hairstylist I know, Melissa Grace Eakins. (Sidebar: If you are ever in Salt Lake City, and think: "That was such a nice lunch and before I take my life in my hands by getting back on I-15 I wish I could get a great haircut", then get yourself over to Kami Hair on Highland Drive and ask for Grace. You won't be disappointed. She's phenomenal. A serious and exceptional artist. Even if you're not in SLC, you should go there anyway. Have the chicken sandwich at the Dodo Cafe (so savory) and then skip on over to Kami. You'll leave town beaming.) The result of my appointment with hair destiny: ease, freedom, and even style. Leave it to Grace.

I tell you this: it was one of my better decisions. It's just now getting to Spring and some days are in the high 30s (in Celsius, which is around 100 degrees Fahrenheit). There is nothing more refreshing then soaking your entire head with water in the middle of the day and not having to think about it afterwards. So cool (in more ways than one). Not to mention the time it has taken off my morning routine (kind of like my golf game...well, if I golfed, that is). I'm fairly certain I can get ready faster then Neil these days. Of course, being as handsome as is he does take time. So, with the hair gone (and no ridiculously affordable Seattle apartment to live in for another year) it was off to Africa...almost...

The Plane Essentials: Of course, before flying across the world (to rejoin Neil who I left there 2.5 months earlier) I had a lot of shopping to do. I mean, who knew if I could get basic daily essentials like Dove bar soap (for sensitive skin), shampoo that smells like cucumbers and melons, Tom's peppermint toothpaste, Samy's styling pomade, or Kroger's liquid hand sanitizer. Needless to say, I was at Fred Meyer twice a day the week before I left. (I really need to make better lists). And once I discovered that Bartell Drugs had Riesens on sale, I made it a priority to clean out the stock of every store within a 5 mile radius of the University district.

Now, amidst the insanity, panic, and sleep deprivation that (I assume) inevitably ensues before one moves halfway across the world for an extended period of time, I happened to pack all my said essentials in my carry-on bag. Two years ago, this wouldn't have been worth mentioning, but leave it to someone packing liquid explosives to ruin my carefully planned trip. Yes, I had completely neglected the Travel Security Adminstration's 3-1-1 rule. (FYI: 3-1-1 for carry-ons = 3 ounce bottle or less (by volume) ; 1 quart-sized, clear, plastic, zip-top bag; 1 bag per passenger placed in screening bin. One-quart bag per person limits the total liquid volume each traveler can bring. 3 oz. container size is a security measure.)

But I didn't remember this little law until it was almost too late. In fact, I was feeling pretty relaxed as I approached the security gate. I had managed to get rid of my four other 50+ pound bags at the Delta Airlines check-in desk and was thinking about how nice it was to only be lugging around one 50 lb bag...yes, it's true, shampoo is quite heavy. Then I saw all those huge, flat screen TVs playing the 3-1-1 reminder over and over. Now, it slowly occurred to me that I was about to become the spectacle of the week at Sea-Tac airport. And wouldn't those TSA workers just love it when they opened up my bag for "further inspection" and found all that contraband inside...six non-travel-size tubes of toothpaste, eight 20-oz containers of hand sanitizer, four aerosol cans of odor-less hairspray...oh the horror! Or, the delight, rather.

I could see myself getting busted, escorted over to the little area with the plastic walls and footprint-stamped rugs, asked to spread my legs, lift up my arms ("palms up, please!") and patted down by a less-than-charming, middle-aged woman. "Are you sure you're not hiding any full-size bottles of deodorant in your back pockets?" A strong desire to avoid this complete and total public humiliation (although, it would have given the onlookers a good story to share with whomever picked them up from the airport) moved me to action. After getting my passport cleared by a surprising sullen individual (even for a TSA worker), I raced over to the line with the most people waiting in it, dropped to my knees by the nearest over-sized garbage bin, unzipped my bag, and proceeded to throw away all questionable items. Two minutes, twenty pounds, and one hundred dollars later I was in the clear. Granted, people witnessing this event probably thought I was psychotic, but hey, it's a lesson for the kids out there...if you've got any highly suspicious material, especially basic hygienic items, be sure to keep the airways safe by packing them in your checked bags. And let's all sing hallelujah that we can still carry full-size packs of dental floss on the plane.