Making It Through a Day

All night long, I had dreams of the dangers lurking on every corner. It didn’t help that I had read an online article from the San Francisco Chronicle describing the violence in this city right before going to bed. I had sworn that I would not take my camera out today, nor would I even carry my bag. Certain that I am on some international radar for being a victim of crime, I am playing it safe. It is not paranoia, but true life experiences. Alternatively, we did survive Cape Town twice and the heart of Kenya without incident, but why push the luck?

While we were at breakfast, there was a couple from Boston who also arrived yesterday. We chatted for a while and I mentioned my concerns for safety. One of the guys remarked with a truth that I often think about when people are concerned about the safety of Budapest. His comment was “it is funny how people get overly concerned about the potential violence when they travel, yet they ignore the violence at home. I was mugged four times in Cambridge and Boston, Massachusetts where I live within 2 years time.” It got me t thinking that he was right, but I am still leaving my camera behind. 

Yesterday when I mentioned my concerns to Ron, I shared my mental fantasy of filling my empty cola bottle with bleach. If anyone dared to attack me, I would splash them with it. His retort was “Will that make you one of the Bleach Boys?” (Beach Boys)

Leaving this city alive and with all our things is a grave concern, if you will forgive the pun. We thought of leaving a day early, but we are prepaid here and changing the reservation at Rio Dulce would be another headache. We can hunker down here, but to be sure, we wanted to get our bus ticket. Though the bus station is only a few blocks from the hotel, we will take a taxi there. I can imagine us going down the street when some car pulls up to collect all of our luggage, when we know this isn’t a service offered by the bus companies.

Within a block of our hotel on the way to the bus station, the atmosphere started feeling dark and foreboding like those Batman movies where there is never any evidence of a primary color. Strange that the sun was shining, yet there was an obscure nature as we inched our way closer to the station. Men surrounded buses with rifles of various types, but it was unclear if they were guards, customers, or category C. For one moment, I wasn’t certain whether to continue trying to find the ticket office or break into a run. Our tickets are booked: January 2, 2012 at 11:30 am.

Not leaving anything to the Fates, we brought our tickets back to the hotel before wandering off. Our hotel has closed circuit TV at the door, so they monitor from the office. There are so many layers of security gates that you have to stretch your arm through to get to the bell to ring to be let in. They as none of the other hotels, give you a key to get in on your own. I am guessing it is a simple precaution in case you are mugged and tortured, you won’t spill the beans as to where you are staying, so they can use your keys to break in. The problem here is, if you are short or you have short arms, you will need an extender to reach the bell. I have long arms and even I get bar marks in my cheek as I stretch in to reach the buzzer.

Now that the tickets were secured, we intended to visit three museums. Museum 1 – closed. There were those metal door knockers so thinking this was a security precaution, we tried the knocker and the bell and our fists. Nada! Museum 2 – closed. Museum 3 looked like it had potential as four of the employees had just walked out and were standing on the sidewalk talking. The museum is scheduled for 10am to 12 noon and 2 – 5pm. It was not yet noon, but they said it would be closed until Tuesday for the holiday, but then again, maybe they wouldn’t open on Tuesday either. Doesn’t matter, we won’t be around then anyway. What to do, what to do?

When all else fails there are always churches to visit. There are plenty of those here and even if I don’t partake, they are fun to look at, plus wonderful examples of cultural differences. One corner had a church on each of two corners and another church just 2 blocks away. They were all Catholic too. Talk about obsessive.

We went into one church and my eyes popped out of my head. For the first few moments, I had forgotten I had gone into a church. If it had not been for two dozen Mary statues in different outfits and poses, I would have had to leave, look at the building again and re-enter. The insides looked like someone set off a bomb in a party supply store. The only thing missing was the Mylar balloons that announced “It’s a boy!” Just about every square inch of the ceiling had draped banners, garland, lights, statues, and other paraphernalia that was never covered in my Catholic military training sessions. I think this was God’s way of getting back at me since I didn’t have my camera to document it all. Just trying to take it all in was beginning to put me into epileptic seizures. One interesting thing in this church, I have never seen in my life was a painting of Joseph’s deathbed. I have never heard of Joseph’s death ever referred to anywhere. All attention was first and foremost on Jesus and then Mary was taken up body and soul, but Joseph’s last years are just a blank slate. The poor guy slaved as a carpenter supporting his wife and step-son, only to be forgotten in history or myth. 

After that experience, I walked into the next church with the same caution as walking into your own surprise party after you received wind of its happening. Apparently this congregation subscribes to Better Churches and Gardens magazine; it was less audacious, but still on the ticklish side of gaudy. Life size wooden pelicans hang all over the church with their necks craned picking at their own breast to feed their young. If you want to read the full story, click here. One giant mural over a side door showed Jesus on the cross, but the cross was in a fountain. Jesus’ blood had filled the fountain. They are just consumed with these torturous betrayals of religious faith. One thing is that this church had another interesting Joseph related item which was a first. In all of my years, I have never witnessed this before, but in the crèche, instead of Mary holding the baby or the baby just being in the manger, it was Joseph holding Jesus with a peculiar look on his face. I could see the word bubble over his head showing what he was thinking, “Darn it, he doesn’t look like me at all.” To make matters worse he had a t-shirt on that said “My wife had an angelic visit and all I got was a step-son.” The Catholics here are really crazy!

The third church we visited was so unadorned, I thought we had wandered into a Jehovah’s Witness meeting hall by mistake. The crucifix assured me we were in a Catholic church. As we were wandering around, a mass started. Usually before the priest enters, there are bells jingled warning congregates that the priest is walking in, so everyone stands up. There were no bells, so I was taken by surprise when a very elderly priest was aided to the altar by his home health aide. She had to keep him propped up as he celebrated mass. Vocations must be at an all time low; this poor guy was beyond feeble. It was also during the beginnings of this mass that I realized for certain just how dangerous this city can be. The altar boys, no girls around, are armed with pistols. When they came to take a collection, those holding the basket bore rifles, for those who thought they were passing a grab bag. As we were leaving, I spotted this poster on the wall. It portrayed Jesus in the same position as Rodin’s The Thinker. Next to the poster was the statue itself, which I hadn’t noticed at first. The title is “Jesus in Deep Thought”. As we were leaving, there was a handwritten sign that said “You do not need your mobile phone to call God. Turn yours off when in church.” Someone has a sense of humor.

We walked the pedestrian street so many times looking at the street performers and then stopping to have lunch, we now have every store memorized as well as their merchandise, inventory and prices. Is it January 2nd yet?

Related articles

• Bethlehem Broom Brawl (getreligion.org)
• A Shortage of Catholic Clergy in France (time.com)
• CBS Sunday Morning Report Simplifies as It Scolds the Catholic Church (adw.org)
• who's in charge of the church anyway (eatinglocusts.wordpress.com)

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If You Don't Hear From Me Again...

For some reason, we had to do one last tour of the town before leaving, but of course this included visiting another coffee shop we had not yet tried out. They make the best espresso drinks here. Ron suggested we look at the other dock, the one where boats go to the different villages than the ones we had been to. It was much smaller and less congested, but there were still multiple men trying to get us on boats.

I have this thing about checking our room multiple times to make sure we don’t miss a thing. As we were leaving, we ran into the guys next door as they were swinging in the hammocks. We said good-bye, but that is as involved as the conversation went. All of our bags were now downstairs waiting for the shuttle to arrive at noon. Standing there waiting, the three amigos came out and were standing around also. They never uttered a syllable.

The shuttle arrived on the dot in this time zone, 10 minutes late. It was empty so we thought we hit the jackpot on seat choices, but the driver told us he needed to put all of the luggage on the roof rack; he had other things to collect that needed the back space. Something new to worry about: our luggage hurling at sixty miles an hour over some cliff somewhere as we hit a pothole in the road. We climb into the van, followed by guess who? The three amigos climbed into the van too. Only because we asked, they said they were going to Guatemala City too. All during the 3 hour ride, they each played with their iPhone, ignoring each other and us as well. It turned out they were going to the airport to return home. Two of them are going to Mexico City and the other is continuing on to San Antonio, TX.

Another half hour and we were at our hotel. OMG, the neighborhood was enough to give me the heebie jeebies. Every hotel we have stayed at thus far has locked front doors. You have to ring a bell to get in; no keys are supplied for self access once you check in. That alone is telling. Once inside, the hotel is outstanding. As they claim they have over 300 Mayan artifacts, making them a true museum, part of their business name. Someone has great taste when they decorated the place; it is exceptional. Too bad the city is not. Ron said there were two differing comments in the travel guide regarding Guatemala City: big, dirty, dangerous, and fascinating or big, dirty, dangerous, and forgettable.

Just as in Cape Town the advice is to take a taxi if going out or returning once it is dark out. A difference being there is a sign posted in the lobby here, stating do not wear any jewelry outside, be cautious, etc. etc. There was a young man sitting in the lobby when we arrived. While Ron was checking in, I quizzed him about the place. He was only meeting someone here, not staying, but said that his tour book listed only 3 hotels in Zone 1 as being safe. This was number 1 for safety within this zone. Zone 1 in the city is where the museums and government buildings are, but also the bus stations where gangs and drug dealers congregate along side of the red light district. One stop shopping for all of your vice needs.

Out we went while it was still light out. Neither of us took our shoulder bag nor did we take cameras. It was a shame as there were some good shots that we missed. I would hate to have my $800 camera become someone’s New Year’s present. Finding the central square, it was filled with people, but not glorious or glamorous buildings. We stopped for a beer, then chicken at their version of KFC. 
 
Finally on the way back, we stopped at a deli that offered freshly made tamales. We bought four for breakfast, because we couldn’t remember if we had the breakfast plan or not. The alternative was to pay $7.00 US for the basic breakfast, 9.00 for the upgrade and 11.00 for the superior. Other meals are on offer too, but the prices are way different than the outer regions. There really isn’t much in this city to be a draw that can demand those kinds of prices within a small hotel. The four tamales only cost us 1.85 Euros a piece and they are huge.

When I asked if they had WiFi, I was given the pass code with the notation at the bottom that it cost $5.00 US a day. Fortunately for me, there is an unsecured WiFi connection that is costing me nothing. The thought did cross our mind to move our travel plans up a day, but this is paid for and there is little running on New Year’s Day, which is the reason Ron planned our departure for January 2nd. Keep us in your positive thoughts, we are going to need them.

Related articles

• World will not end in 2012, says Regina man (cbc.ca)
• Guatemalans hunker down against rising violence (sfgate.com)
• Guatemalan women earn a living turning trash into treasure | Anna-Claire Bevan (guardian.co.uk)
• US nixes Peace Corps class for Guatemala, Salvador (seattletimes.nwsource.com)

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SeedReaders

We all should know the importance of a book in a child’s hand. Our very dear and close friend Patricia Schonstein, a South African writer has started a non-profit for such a cause. Years ago, Patricia had written a number of children’s books with all proceeds going to the schools in Cape Town and then beyond to fund the beginnings of school libraries. Most schools do not have one.


Later, she turned to writing novels and has written six novels, each unique, but expressing her gifts. In addition, she had four collections of poetry. Patricia has now turned her talents from writing back to her roots of advocacy. She has created SeedReaders. Please take a moment to visit her website and perhaps donate some money for this worthy project. Perhaps this would be a gift for the person who has everything, on your Christmas list. Most of us have so very much, yet so many cannot even afford a single book.


Regardless, if you visit Patricia’s site, you may be inspired. If you met her, you would definitely be a better person for the experience.
http://www.patriciaschonstein.com/

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• Table Mountain one of the Seven Wonders of Nature (lifeinthecape.wordpress.com)

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Book Launch South Africa

It thrills me to forward to all of you the invitation we received by our very dear friend Patricia Schonstein, a magnificently talented writer. We had the pleasure of meeting Patricia and her equally talented author husband, Don Pinnock in 2005 when we rented their self-catering apartment in Cape Town. It was friendship at first site and we have been friends since both here and there again.

LAUNCH INVITATION
Thursday 27 May 2010
5.30-6pm  
The Book Lounge Roeland Street Cape Town

Patricia Schonstein: Banquet at Brabazan

We are delighted to be launching the new novel from local novelist, Patricia Schonstein.

In Banquet at Brabazan, she takes us to the heart of Cape Town’s violent inner city, creating a cornucopia of events featuring superb food, romance, a cappella, an angel, Shakespearean drama, reflections on South Africa’s war in Angola, drug-money, a multi murder, visions of the Afterlife and various works of fine art with flashbacks to the wondrous A Time of Angels.

The novel is rich with her characteristic use of fabric, fine-art, poetry and magic as well as her deep and philosophical questioning of the human condition.

At core, Banquet at Brabazan is the story of an enduring, secret love affair between a boss and his secretary who create a fantastical, magical, theatrical, costumed, Italianate life for themselves within the confines of her apartment.

Outside of that contrived space, exists the real world of loneliness, xenophobia and crime that have come to mark post-apartheid South Africa.

Patricia Schonstein deftly leads us through both worlds, allowing the lives of a small group of people, who have not met before, to intersect over a period of ten days at Brabazan Bar & Lodge, in Long Street, Cape Town. Here she reveals a poignant and beautiful patina of hope and love. 

With this, her sixth novel, Patricia affirms herself as one of South Africa’s leading authors and a master of magic-realism.
Patricia will be in discussion with Hugh Hodge, the editor of New Contrast .

RSVP  The Book Lounge, booklounge@gmail.com,
 021 462 2425.

Also by Patricia and available through Amazon:

A Quilt of Dreams: A Novel

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Jewish Museum - Cape Town

Romaney works part time in a craft and paper store. Her store is competing for the J & B Horse Race competition for displays. If they win, they will get tickets to the famous race and other prizes. We have our fingers crossed for you Romaney.

Later today, Ron and I went to the South African Jewish Museum, which has a Holocaust Center, synagogue, and museum all on the same grounds.

Later in the evening, Patricia and Don asked us to join them to see the movie The Queen, with they and their friends. We were walking to the movie from the car when I heard a car honking and my name being yelled out. Jean and Omo were driving by and jumped out of the car to hug us. They had planned on going to Mozambique from Johannesburg, but changed their minds. It was so good to see them. Patricia was planning our going away feast for the night before we left and invited them.

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Cape Town Laughs

We are getting to know the locals and having a laugh with them.

Patricia and Don invited us for dinner again. They were having some friend over who we had met last year. Note: none of the mentioned people are pictured here.

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Cape Town Hightlights

I did not journal our week in Cape Town. Much of what we did was too mundane to write about. Our first day, however, we did return to the National Art Museum, which is a real treasure. There was a new exhibit outside the museum, which was fun and reminiscent of our recent tour. Many of the exhibits from last year have been changed, so it was like seeing it for the first time again. One permanent exhibit fascinates me though. There was also a special exhibit based on the impact of AIDS in South Africa, which was heart wrenching.

We also went back to the Museum of Natural History. They had a poster in the gift shop that I was ready to purchase, but it was $50. an outrageous sum for a poster.

Our favorite mode of transport are the Rikki taxis. They are set fees based on the district you are in and where you want to go. Since last year, they have added three London taxis to the force. They are economical and less expensive than a regular taxi since they are not metered.

When we returned home again, there was a lovely note on the kitchen table from Romaney inviting us to dinner with she and her boyfriend Brent. Later that evening, we had a great dinner and chat getting to know these wonderful young people all the better. It was such a warm and welcoming touch.

I had brought my laptop computer with me and left it here while we were on tour. I was anxious to download my pictures and start transcribing my journal. I just finished downloading all of my photos and a little voice told me to burn them to disc immediately, so for once I did what the little voice told me to do. The computer was still on when Romaney called us to dinner, but when I returned, I thought it had gone into hibernation mode, but it would not start at all. I checked the adapter, I checked the plug, but nothing. I switched adapters and plugs, but still nothing. The computer starts up and then shuts off immediately. This computer is only nine months old and I have had to replace the power pack once already. I was in anguish.

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Zambia Back to Cape Town

My lousy genetic coding awoke me at 6:30 again, but I lazed in bed until 7:00. Ron showered, and then went wandering the grounds in search of photo opportunities. I showered and got ready for breakfast. It occurred to me more than once how many meals we have eaten on this trip that we do not eat at home. Rarely do we eat much for breakfast and other than a snack during the day, we hardly ever eat a real meal for lunch other. During this vacation, we have been programmed like Pavlov’s dogs to eat at mealtimes.

Breakfast was a buffet with a wide variety of choices. First you gave your room number to the host, who gave a slip of paper to us, then we turned in the slip to the woman behind the buffet table. We whiled away the time over breakfast postponing our 10:00 am check out to 11:00 with our transport due at 11:45.

The shuttle was early; there were other guests going to the airport also. One woman in the shuttle with us was from Berlin and had completed an almost identical tour to ours, but in tents. She was older than I, so I thought more power to her. She said she most likely would never do it again as it was exhausting after a long day to set up the tent and then take it down again in the morning. This reinforced that we had made the correct decision with our tour.

Arriving at the Livingstone Airport was similar to arriving at a small factory. There was nothing outside to distinguish it as an airport and at first, I had thought we were just making another stop on the way. When the driver climbed out of the van and started removing luggage for attendants to take, we knew we had arrived. The porters are not the type that force themselves on you for a tip, but regular employees of the airport.

Once inside this non-descript building, the attendants take the luggage directly to security, while directing the travelers to pay their “EXIT” fee. This something I do not remember being told about. The fee is US $25.00, or 15 British Pounds, or 20 Euros. Considering the exchange rates, we received a better deal paying in dollars and fortunately, I still had cash on me.

We received two receipts, and then we went through security with our luggage. Only then were we able to get to the airline counter to check in for our flight with Nationwide Airlines. There are only three airline counters here, so there is no confusion or long walk to check in. Within the same room is the lounge and the ONE gate. Strangely, there is a British Airlines lounge, which is $10.00 per person to enter and is the only place where you can smoke.

As we were walking to a seat in the lounge, we spotted Markus and Bettina from our tour. We were excited by this as we were going through separation anxiety. We had an hour to chat before their South African Airlines flight was ready to board. Only one plane at a time lands, deposits passengers, and then fills, and takes off yet again. Our flight was two flights after theirs.

The flight was pleasant and we would fly this airline again. The captain was really talkative and kept pointing out scenes below when we approached Johannesburg, but they were all on the left side of the plane and we were seated on the right.

I hate Passport Control in Johannesburg as I have mentioned earlier; it is the most inefficient one we have experienced. Shockingly, there were no lines at all. We must have hit it at a perfect time. We were third and fourth in our line. When we heard familiar voices in the next line, it turned out to be Omo and Jean. Beyond the controllers already were Vicky and Rob. It was like a mini reunion.

Omo and Jean were going to look for an accommodation in Jo’Burg, Vicky and Rob had to stay at the International terminal for their next flight, and we went to the Domestic one for our flight to Cape Town.

We checked in for our next flight within minutes of arriving at the check-in desk and then spent our free time at the Diners Club lounge, our favorite oasis in airports. We had free Internet service, drinks, snacks, and CNN on the television. Ron goes through news withdrawal while we are on vacations. Again, we are flying Nationwide with their comfortable leather seats.

Once in Cape Town, we will find our own shuttle. Go2Africa’s work is done and they did a splendid job thanks to Gellé and her hard work. We are staying with Patricia and Don again in their separated apartment for a week. They are on a vacation/work assignment for Don, so they will not be back until the 11^th. Their lovely daughter Romaney will be there to let us in.

When we arrived in Cape Town, we arranged the shuttle and an employee took us outside to show us where to wait for it. Cape Town was COLD and we had put on our coats that we had been dragging around since leaving Budapest. It took the shuttle thirty minutes to return from a run, but we were at the Pinnock’s by 9:30 PM. Romaney thoughtfully had pasta for us since she did not believe we would have had dinner during our travels. While we settled in, she cooked it up for us in their place. It was good to be back here.

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Onward to Namibia

It is the summer equinox here in the southern hemisphere. This is their longest day of the year while at home it is the shortest. For us, this will be the longest day of the year with the drive we have ahead of us. Our replacement tour is left Cape Town yesterday, the day we arrived. Gellé at Go2Africa, arranged for Backpackers Bus to drive us to meet up with them today.

Ron went to the Checkers grocery store, a block away from our guesthouse to get some breakfast things and brought them back to the main Ashanti house to eat with some tea.

Promptly at 8:50 am, our driver was there to pick us up, early by ten minutes. His name was very unusual and neither of us can remember it. He was very pleasant and as we were putting our things in the compact car, he apologized for the size of the car and as he was stating we would be driving for 10 hours today. Under normal circumstances, this would have put me into a catatonic state. I despise long car rides. The excitement made it less horrendous.

As small as the car was, it was duly comfortable sitting in the back seat. I could stretch my legs across the back and Ron seemed to have adequate legroom in front. Three hours into the drive, we stopped for gas and a lunch break. The convenience store is well equipped with hot and cold drinks and food items. We chuckled to see there was also a Wimpy’s fast food chain attached.

I love looking at foods in other countries in places like this. I chose a chicken breast encrusted in filo dough with cheesy pepper sauce. It was only 3.60 Rand, about 55 cents (7.2 Rand to the dollar) and worth twice the amount in deliciousness. Ron hungered for Wimpy’s and had a burger and fries. After eating, we changed seating arrangements in the car, with Ron in the back.

I suffer from highway hypnosis. Put me in a moving vehicle and I am sleeping like I have been drugged. From what I remember seeing between coma naps were hills that varied in size from smaller to a bit higher, but nothing close to a mountain in size. There were lots of shrub brush, but there was an absence of trees. The earth was a palette of browns that were only intermittently interrupted by spots of green to breaking the monotony. This sight seeing soon wore thin, so there was a guiltless pleasure in napping some more. At some points, the heat made it seem like sleeping in a tanning bed with all clothes on. The car did not have air conditioning, but with the windows partially opened, it was almost bearable. The driver said the temperature was around 40 C with little fluctuation throughout the year, this being one of the hottest spots in South Africa. He is from this area, but when he was a child, his father could not take the heat any longer and moved the family to the Cape Town area.

The people in this part of the country are primarily goat herders and miners in this area. Copper is the most commonly mined metal. We had it explained to us by the driver that the goat farmers would find semi-precious stones, polish them, and sell them at markets for extra money.

During the second 3 hour stint of our drive, we suddenly went from 110 k/m to a complete stop for goats crossing the road. The tail end was the shepherd and his three dogs making sure all had crossed over. Our driver said it is not unusual for the shepherd to spend a week at a time with the goats in the fields and then return home for a couple of days, then return to the goats again. I cannot imagine those two days are enough to cleanse the smell of goat from his body. Pity his family!

By the 6^th hour of driving, we made it to Springbok with an hour to go, we were told. Our driver asked if he could stop to buy a CD of music if he could find the right store. He added he would need the music to keep himself awake on the ride home. My goodness, man, you have to do this drive again today, without a sleep over somewhere. Someone would just have to shoot me if I had to do that.

When we finally made it to our destination, the South African/Namibian border, the driver tried calling our tour guide to let him know we had arrived. He had tried calling before this, but there was no cell service in the area. As it were, we had to backtrack a half mile to find the right location for cell service to kick in.

Our group had already crossed the South Africa-Namibian border. Our driver did not have his passport with him, so he could not take us through. I think he did some smart planning there. Our truck and group had to return to pick us up.

The truck returned to our side, where Bruce the guide, John the driver, and Thomas, a student intern all hopped out of the cab to greet and welcome us. John introduced himself as “I’m just the driver.”

Bruce opened up the truck for us to climb in and I was pleasantly surprised to see the wide age range of fellow travelers. Bruce announced “Everyone, give a warm welcome to Ron and Ryan, who will be joining us.” If silence was truly golden, we would all have been rich. No one in the group barely looked at us, let alone welcomed us. We skulked to the two empty seats and sat as quietly as the rest. I was not sure if it was hostility I was feeling around me or just highway weariness, but this was not the time to try bonding.

They drove us to the South African Border control and Bruce had Thomas walk us through the exit visa procedure. Then the truck crossed over Namibia again. They left us there with Thomas while Bruce took everyone else to get settled in the camp. They would return for us, but from the looks of all of the faces, doubt was playing in my mind. Do border controls come equipped with tents for abandoned tourists? I really was hoping not to have to find out.

With Thomas’s help, we made it through the Namibian side after filling out the documentation. There was a short line, but the two agents were very professional and we were passed through in under 3o minutes.

John, just the driver came back for us and delivered us to the campsite where the rest were already relaxing in their cabins. We were staying on the Orange River at Felixunite (www.felixunite.com) in rustic, but attractive cottages, en suite, right at the river’s edge. After we settled in, Bruce gave us a private orientation as to what we missed on the workings of the truck and shared duties. He was reassuring, competent, and said he would advise us when we will have opportunities to have needs met along the way: ATMs, batteries, etc.

After a shower and change of clothes, we went to dinner. Bruce will cook most of the meals and where we will be eating them will depend on our location. For tonight’s dinner, there is an open air lodge for us with tables and benches. Everyone has an assigned day to help with the cleanup so the chores are divided.

Impressively, once at the lodge, each member of the group came up to us and introduced him or herself. They had done a name game the night before, so knew each other’s names already. Many of them apologized for the quietness on the truck, but explained it was highway weariness. That was a great relief. We had thought they found out we were the U.S. Americans and were holding a grudge.

Our group multicultural is:

Sweden

The Rasmusson family from Sweden, but living in Uganda. Klas works for the Swedish Embassy. His wife Lena, son Rikard (13 yo), and daughter Anna (9 yo).

Also from Sweden are Anders and Inger.

Germany

Thomas the student intern

Hans and Suzi – They are retired and travel for three months of every year

The Netherlands

Dirk and Harm – Friends from early childhood

Inike and Wilfred – a young couple

Canada

Jean and Omo (pronounced Alma) – Jean is originally from England and Omo is from Nigeria, but both are Canadian citizens.

The UK

Rob and Vicky – a young married couple

Switzerland

Doris and Adrian – Friends traveling together

We bonded especially quickly with Omo and Jean since we had similar partnerships, though many people did not ‘get it’ about them for some time. For the two of us, they must have read it on our forehead, since we were never questioned about how we were related.

I learned that Omo is an attorney for the city of Toronto. She went to Canada for her university studies and stayed there. Jean is a reporter for the Canadian Broadcasting Service. At this point, I had not had an opportunity to speak with Jean, but Omo was delightful and knew we were going to enjoy their company.

Bruce had made tasty hamburgers for dinner. Everyone blended especially well considering the short time we all knew each other. The kids were entertaining with their acrobatics and they succeeded in getting the adults to join in. After dinner, a group of the adults went to the bar, but we headed to the terrace outside our cottage for a final beer of the evening and a the thoughts of a pleasant rest.

The Gariep River is right at our door. The river was known to the Bushmen as the Nu Gariep (great river). It was formerly known as the Orange River named for William Prince of Orange in 1779. Other references to the orange name come from the Barbel fish that grow to 6 feet and dwell in the mud of the river. Their flesh turns orange when dried. The river is the border between South Africa and Namibia. The Gariep carries 23 per cent of the total water run-off of South Africa to the sea. This area is a combination of sedimentary mud, volcanic lava, granite, limestone, and metamorphic rock.

As we sat sipping our beer and having our souls massaged by the rivers currents, the sky was lit up with an explosion of stars. I have never seen so many stars in a night sky before. Breaking away from Eurocentric thinking, we learned that the constellations here are very different from what we know. Orion’s belt is three zebras who Aldeberan the unluckiest warrior failed to hit with his arrows. He could not go home without any meat, but was fearful of using his last arrow for fear for the lurking lion he would surely pass on his way home, the star known as Betelguese.

The Milky Way is retold as the grey ash and hot coals that an angry girl threw into the sky when her mother forbid her roasting her roots in the hot fire. The Southern Cross pointing the way south are four giraffes whose heads are visible where they are.

Today, we traveled from Cape Town through the Cedarburg Mountains to Citrusdal, then through Springbok on to the Orange River. We roasted in the heat of some areas and are now sitting with our coats on as we star gaze on the river in the cool breeze. We covered 730 kilometers today.

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Welcome to South Africa

Johannesburg has one of the worst Passport Controls we have ever encountered in 43 countries. There are six lines for South African passport holders, three for other African states, and only two for all other countries. For heavens sake, this is a tourist Mecca, give us some credit here and have more lines for the rest of us. Strangely, they do not even want the people from most other African countries coming into the country, so why so many lines? Our designated lines were horrendously long, winding this way and that, taking over an hour to get our passports stamped. This is not unlike our experience from last year, so nothing has improved in a year’s time.

After finding our little bags and one suitcase we will leave with friends in Cape Town, we walked from the International terminal to the Domestic terminal. We will continue on to Cape Town in an hour, so we make our way to the relaxed and well equipped Diners Club lounge. It is not only spacious, but beautifully decorated, and there is a well filtered smoking room. Due to Passport Control, we only had 35 minutes to enjoy it. Children are playing games on the two computers, so e-mails from here will not be going out.

None of the porters that usually mangle tourists to assist with the luggage for a tip dared come near us. From the way I was clutching my bag, they must have thought I had a gun, not realizing it was cold hard cash.

From Jo’burg to Cape Town, Gellé found us tickets on Nationwide Airlines based out of South Africa. The plane, a 737, was spacious for the number of people aboard and the service was excellent. The flight was close to two hours with a snack being served. This was an add-on flight because we had originally planned on taking a tour from Jo’burg, but that was three mangled tour plans ago and credit card balances changed a number of times from then to now.

E-tickets are certainly taking hold. All of our tickets for short and long hauls were paperless. The only paper we had were our boarding passes.

When there are lots of details involved with a trip, I get nervous that something is going to go wrong. I think of that old movie West World where nothing can go wrong, go wrong, go wrong…

Thanks to Gellé at Go2Africa, we were met at the Cape Town airport by Elaine from Backpackers shuttle service to transport us to the Ashanti lodge for our first night. This new group that we are joining have already left Cape Town today. They all arrived last night and had their first night in Cape Town. Elaine had our names on a board and I had our voucher in hand, but she insisted it was all taken care of and did not need it. I chuckled thinking how in other countries, they would have wanted it in triplicate, and stamped with six stamps showing it is official. After finding her two other riders, we were on our way to Ashanti.

We had stayed at Ashanti for a week last year and were impressed, so this year, we thought we would try their guest house, which is not in the main building. We loved the main house, but the party people can be too much after a long day’s travel and we have another long day in a car tomorrow. The tour company wanted us close in town or we would have spent the night with our friends Don and Patricia.

The guesthouse is around the corner from Ashanti’s main building, in a historical monument building. There was no explanation on the plague imbedded into the wall near the door as to why it is considered historical, so I will take their word for it for now.

The building has a wraparound porch from the front door to the right back of the house. The security-gated front door protected a sturdy wooden door with a huge brass knob. The entry hall has a magnificently polished golden amber floor with different rooms off of it . Our room, number six was the second door on the right. Beautifully decorated, in African motif, this expansive room was luxuriously comfortable; it even boasted a fireplace. One bed was king size with an additional twin. Even with two beds in the room, there was still plenty of living space. In one corner, there was a seven-foot high wraparound wall, which hid the bathroom and the shower. The shower was a small semi-circle, which the sliding door came off when it rounded the bend in the track.

After being refreshed, we called Patricia and Don. Don came to fetch us to join them for dinner. We had met Patricia and Don last year for the first time, then they came to Budapest in May of this year. (See the archives in this blog for the day by day stories). Don wrote an article for GetAway magazine on the trip, the city, and our B and B.

They exude the feeling that we have been close friends for years, and we always feel welcomed and cared for when with them.

We finally were able to meet their son Gaelen and their daughter Romaney as well as her boyfriend Brent. All three are charming young people who are comfortable with all people is seems. They are as welcoming as Don and Patricia and are intellectual delights. Patricia made a splendid dinner and in spite of our exhaustion, we by being amongst good friends again was enough to recharge our souls.

Don mentioned that he hoped we would not be amongst a group of 23 year olds drinkers on this trip, since trips like this seem to draw this crowd. I think my face falling was enough for him to add “You guys know how to separate yourselves from the crowd, so just do it.” Sounds like a Nike commercial to me, but it did add to my concerns about this venture.

After much fanfare, Don drove us back again for a good night’s sleep. We have a taxing day tomorrow to catch up with the group.

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Off We Go

Off We Go…

Don and Patricia flew into Vienna and will fly out of there also. Since Don is doing an article on traveling out of South Africa for 10,000 Rand per person, he was challenged to find the least expensive airline tickets possible. The best deal he could find was with Qatar Airlines from Cape Town to Vienna. They then took the airport bus from Vienna to Budapest and the subway from the bus station to our flat.

With this in mind, they made their first stop of the morning to the travel agency to purchase their bus tickets back to the Vienna Airport. About an hour later, I received a call from the travel agency stating they had forgotten to stamp the tickets with their agency stamp. Rubber stamps here are big business. Nothing is official if it does not have a stamp on it. They would need to return to have the tickets stamped.

Since they did not know this information about the stamps our lovely guests attempted to take the tour for the Parliament. Attempted is the key word, since they tried to get tickets for the 10:00 English tour, but the lines were so long, they could not. Instead, they headed across the street to the Ethnographic Museum.

This museum was started when it officially broke away from the National Museum in 1947. It finally found a permanent home in 1973 in what was the Palace of Justice building. The permanent exhibition "Folk Culture of the Hungarians" displays the everyday life and festivals of peasantry life of Hungarians within thirteen rooms. The collection ranges from objects collected from the end of the 18th century to World War II. http://www.neprajz.hu/english/index2.html

Above all, Don was taken with the angst the bourgeoisie must have endured to climb socially upward from their conditions. He was particularly amused yet sympathetic to a photo on exhibit of a peasant wedding with the bride in her white dress, but yet wearing mud covered boots. Both he and Patricia were quite taken with the history of the country. Taking photos is acceptable and Don said he was not required to buy a photo ticket to do so.

We had arranged to meet for lunch, believing they would be finishing the Parliament tour, but we did find them nonetheless. Since they both are quasi-vegetarians, we took them to Govinda. This vegetarian restaurant is run by the Hare Krishna, who are well respected here. They do much for the homeless, so they are well supported. The food is great and inexpensive. Patricia and Don were overwhelmed with the quality and quantity of the servings so we received accolades for our choice of restaurant. Govinda is located at Belgrad rakpart 18, one stop on tram 2 from the Parliament. www.govinda.hu They accept cash only.


Our happy foursome then wandered over to Szabó Ervin Library. Why would any tourist want to see a library one may ask? If you do not have inside information, this may be a jewel that would easily pass-by without a visit. This is no ordinary library. It was once the Wenckheim Palace, a private residential palace, built by Count Frigyes Wenckheim (1842 – 1912). Arthur Meining, the architect from Saxony, built this 13,000 square meter building and is considered a masterpiece of Hungarian Neo-Baroque architecture. The building was turned into a library in 1931. Aside from the browsing area, there are 15 reading rooms, many with fireplaces and lush cushioned chairs, an Internet room, a playful children’s library with two huge dragons, 160 computers, seating for 1,000 readers, and a café. Various areas of it such as the ballroom are rented out for private functions.

I chose to wait in the sunshine while Ron toured them around. To enter, you must get a free ‘Reader’s Card’ and you need a picture ID to get this. A passport is preferred, but a driver’s license will do most of the time. When Patricia came out our famous authoress was bowled over. She lovingly shared that the library rooms enchanted her with the mixture of glass, mirrors, gilt, drapery, carving, and books. “It was wonderful to see every seat filled with a young person immersed in a book. Reflecting on the fact that library budgets in South Africa have been slashed, I wonder if it will ever reach such a point as this…Poor Africa!"

Patricia wanting to purchase some ethnic music, we wandered around the corner to a shop situated in an udvar (garden) where there is also a lovely restaurant where we could stop for tea. We spent a relaxing hour in engaging conversation and then Ron took Patricia CD shopping while Don and I continued solving the world’s problems.

Ron offered to take their tickets back to the travel agency and I was going to escort them back to the Parliament to try to get the 6:00 pm tour, the last of the day. I love this tour and have done it six times, so I really did not want them to miss it. I prepped them that the first thing on the tour was a matchstick replica of the building that a Hungarian family created and donated.


At the parliament, I left them for home and sent them on their way. When the tour guide asked the group if anyone could guess the materials of the replica, Don piped up with the correct answer squelching the bluster from the guide. Don thought it was a touch of irony that the building was inspired by the British, but it was the British who bombed them. Both Patricia and Don were impressed with King St. Stephan’s crown on display and found the crooked cross on top a bit curious. Don is never without his tripod and ultra deluxe professional camera, so was able to capture some magnificent shots.

The Hungarian Parliament is the largest Parliament in Europe, a testament to the fact that Hungary was an administrative center for the Austrian-Hungarian monarchy, the greatest power in Europe at one time. The architect Imre Steindl designed the building which was initially planned for the celebration of the millennium of 1896, but was not finished until 1902, the year of Steindl’s death. His inspiration was partly from the Palace of Westminster. Its white neo-gothic turrets and arches stretch for over 250 meters along the Danube embankment, making it an impressive sight from both sides of the river. The building has 691 rooms, tremendous halls and over 12.5 miles of corridors. The central dome is 96-meters, the exact height of Szent István Basilica. The saying is that this was intentional so that church and state were of equal proportions. Photograph and video are permitted and the inside is as rich as the exterior. The Parliament was once two houses: the House of Lords and the House of Commons. Don observed that the former House of Lords had blue carpeting and the House of Commons was red.

Note that the official times on the Parliament website do not list this tour, but it is on the sign at the Parliament. http://www.parlament.hu/parl_en.htm
Tour times are listed as:
English: 10 a.m., 12 a.m. and 2 p.m.
German: weekday 11 a.m. and 3 p.m., Sunday 11 a.m.
French: 2 p.m. Russian: weekdays 3 p.m., Sunday 11 a.m.
Hebrew: 10.30 a.m. and 1.30 p.m.
Italian: weekdays 11.30 a.m. and 4 p.m., Sunday 11.30 a.m.
Spanish: weekdays 11.30 a.m. and 4 p.m., Sunday 11.30 a.m.
Japanese and other languages are available, but are not listed on the web site.

Tickets are: Adults 2.070 HUF and Children 1.035 HUF, but it is free for citizens of European Union countries if you have your passport with you.

After their tour, our two explorers walked the Danube. They came across the memorial of shoes along the river bank commemorating the Jews who were lined up on the banks and shot by the Nazis at the end of WWII when it was evident they had no time to continue transporting them to the camps. Sadly, there has been some vandalism and some of the shoes have been removed. Though the artist has vowed to replace them, it has not happened yet, but there are still enough there to impress the horrors of war on our social justice minded guests. Patricia is continually reminded of her Jewish heritage and the grievous events associated with Jewish history.

In later hours of the evening, they found their way to the docks to take a night cruise on the Danube. The hour long cruise was on the Duna Yacht and the cost was 1,700 Huf each. They were enchanted with the lighting in the castle district with Castle Hill romantically displayed on the one side of the river and with Parliament on the other. www.dunayacht.com

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The South Africans are coming

The South Africans are coming…

Well actually, I lied. They arrived this morning. Don and Patricia Pinnock arrived today from Cape Town, South Africa. Why are they worth writing about, you may ask, so I will share the info with you.

When we were in Cape Town, we rented their apartment. You can find their information in this blog, but to save you doing a search and ignoring me now, I will enlighten you. Don is the Associate Editor for Get Away magazine, a thick, rich, travel monthly that is distributed to eighty countries. He writes a number of articles as well as doing the photographs. His background was once in Criminal Justice, with a doctorate and specializations in gang behavior. He has some books to his credit in this area. After changing life paths, he has written Blue Ice about Antarctica and African Journeys.

Patricia has a Masters in Creative Writing and has written nine children’s books, a book of poetry, and three adult novels. Her writing name is Patricia Schonstein and Patricia Schonstein Pinnock. One of her books has been sold for movie rights to a company in the UK. Two of her books have won literary awards in France and the UK. Her poetry book is being translated into Spanish and Finnish.

As if this is not enough excitement, Don is here to write an article for the magazine that he dreamed up while we were there. The article concept is going anywhere in the world from South Africa on 10,000 Rand a person. They are here to make this happen. Since they are staying with us as B and B guests, our B and B will be in the article. So far, they are very impressed with the flat and the bed, which they tested for their post-travel nap. I will report back as the week develops.

Stay tuned.

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I received these two comments

I received these two comments in the ‘anonymous’ comments section, but I feel comments are meant to be shared, so here they are.

To the first person, you are welcome x 3, but for what are you thanking me? To the second person, I am so happy Gilbert is getting his art out there. I found three possible sources for him to sell his work here in Budapest, but darn, he does not respond to e-mails. If anyone reads this before seeing him, tell him Ryan needs to reach him.

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Hi,Just wanted to second the opinion above about Gilbert Khumalo and his wonderful beadwork. We met him last Sunday at the Green Point Arts & Crafts market in Cape Town and bought a beautiful beaded elephant head from him. Awesome stuff!

I love the comments, it feels great being ‘heard’ and the only way I know for sure there is someone reading what I write is when you write a comment.

Thank you, thank you, thank you,

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