During the night, an incredible thunder storm blew in. Around 2 am in the morning, Rey calls, says he is trying to take some photographs the storm but none of them are turning out. He asks if I can try taking some photos. I’m thinking to myself, it’s about 2 am in the morning, are you crazy? Now that I am awake, I see just how powerful the storm really is. Excited, I hang up the phone, jump out of bed and throw on enough layers to protect me from the rain, grab my camera gear and umbrella, and starting shooting pictures.
The storm has now past. I am wide awake, and decide to take this chance to write in my journal in the sala. I grab my laptop, open a bottle of the complimentary wine, and started typing away.
Near the sala, there is an interesting bird’s nest that Liza and I had noticed the day before. It looks like a partial sea shell because of its spiral design. A bright yellow bird is now flying in and out of the nest, so I decide to try to photograph the bird. Unfortunately, the bird is too quick. I make several attempts, but cannot capture the bird in the photo. I do not see the bird after it leaves the nest, as it flies into the surrounding brush. I begin to notice that the nest begins to bounce a certain way tight before the bird exits the nest. I zoom out and make several more attempts at photographing the yellow bird. At least, I capture the bird in the photo with the nest. However, it is a yellow blur since it is flying too fast. With the low light, even though I am using a tripod, I can’t use a fast enough shutter speed to capture the bird. I decide to return to my journal and wait for more light as the sun will be rising soon.
About a half hour later, I look up from my laptop and see that the bird is hanging from the bottom of the nest. A quickly, yet quietly, return to my camera and shoot several photos. The yellow bird, which later I am told is a Weaver, is hangs there for several minutes before flying away, back into the brush.
It’s now about 9:15 am and we still need to pack, eat breakfast, and check out before our ride to the airport. I wake up Liza and tell her we should start getting ready. She says okay, and falls back to sleep. The phone rings. It’s the manager asking if we plan to eat breakfast before we leave. I can tell by his voice that this is more of a reminder than an inquiry. I tell him we will be eating and we will be there soon. I get off the phone and wake Liza up again. We call Rey, scramble to pack, and get ready. At 9:40 am, the phone rings again. This time Liza answers.
Breakfast
Ride to Nelspruit Airport
Once out of the park, the driver asks if he can call his boss to get the address and wants to drop us off on the middle of the bridge to look at the hippo in the Elephant River while he makes the phone call. I was a little uncomfortable about letting the driver drop us off on the middle of the bridge by himself with our entire luggage while he drives to the other side. Rey says that we can go and he’ll stay in the car. He asks the driver if it is okay that he stays in the car. The driver agrees, so Rey and I decide it should be okay.
We get to the Nelspruit airport and check in. We only have to wait about 30 minutes for our flight. They announce they will start boarding for the flight and a line starts to form. We look at each other and comment that there are more than 25 people in that line, the capacity of the small plane we had on the flight to Nelspruit. We look around out the window and see a larger jet plane. Liza is excited, hoping that is our plane. She is relieved once we see we are boarding that plane, a British Airways 146.
Johannesburg Airport: Part 2
We arrive back to the Johannesburg airport, claim our luggage, and return to the domestic check in. This time, we are on 1Time airlines. None of us understand the meaning of the name of the airlines. What company would name itself 1Time airlines? 1Time, as in you will fly with us once and never fly with us again? Our flights never return from our destination? Our pilots have only flown one time? Eish!
We get to the domestic check in, and I begin to wonder if I’ll have to pay extra for over weight luggage. I get to the counter lady and she informs me that I am over the limit with one bag. Now, the limit is 20 kg per check in item instead of per person, so I will only have to pay for the extra 5.5 kg for my larger bag. Liza is over the limit as well, weighing in at 30 kg. I’m thinking to myself, here we go again. But this time, Rey interrupts saying that we can’t check in yet since our flight is over two hours away. The counter lady says “Oh, you’re on the 6:30 flight?” I tell her I am. She says “Oh, I thought you were on this flight. You can’t check in yet.” I felt like asking her “what flight were you going to put me on?” Instead, I just shake my head, grab my passport and over weight luggage and we go look for some place to sit to wait for about two hours. There is no seating in the Johannesburg airport. We find an empty space in the corner of the airport, pull out our laptops, and start “blogging.”
4:30 pm finally arrives and we return to the 1 Time air lines check in counter. I’m curious to find out what the luggage weight limit will be this time. This time, since we are international travelers, we are exempt from the rule. I don’t complain or argue, but wonder to myself, what happened to the 24 hour rule? Now I am happy we couldn’t check in early. It saved us money and the hassle.
We get through the security check point, find our gate, and amazingly find some seats near by.
Liza and I decide to venture off in search of coffee while Rey watches our gear. Rey wants a soy milk mocha, and if they don’t have soy milk, he wanted a coffee with a lot of sugar. I was thinking to myself, this is the Johannesburg airport, the airport from hell. They don’t even have seats; they’re not going to have soy milk. This isn’t a Starbucks or Peet’s coffee. I tell him okay, half out of the adventure to see if they have soy milk. We find the Vida e Caffé coffee shop and trouble starts brewing from the beginning. I have been up since about 2 am, and haven’t had much sleep the whole trip. Liza is in a silly mode, too, so we are in rare form. I start off by ordering my mocha, which the guy enters into the register. I then ask if they have soy milk. Of course, the answer is no, so I order a large coffee. I here him say to one of the other guys “and a coffee for here.” I tell him they are to go. He said, “Oh, they’re for take away?” I say they are. I don’t remember him asking me if these were for here or “take away.” (Take Away: South African for To Go or Take Out). After paying for the drinks, we step over to the counter to pick up the coffees. The guy who is giving us the coffees says something to us, with a heavy accent. I don’t understand what he asked, so I say I’m sorry and handed him my receipt. He repeats the question and I still didn’t understand what he was asking. It sounded like he was asking “How do you technique.” That, or he was asking for a tip, because he pulled the coffee towards him and was starting to get annoyed or upset. I was thinking to myself, they want a tip for poring coffee too? I feel like I’m in the Little Britain sketch, asking the guy “Come again? Come again? Come again?”
Agitated, he says “milk, milk.” Which Liza hears as “meat, meat.” I finally figure out he was asking “How do you take it?” I tell him “lots of sugar.” Liza and I grab a quite a few bags of sugar to make sure we have enough for Rey, and Liza grabs what is suppose to be a wooden stirrer for Rey’s coffee. We walk back to join Rey, and we start laughing about how we couldn’t understand what the guy was asking us. Liza’s telling me she thought he was asking if we wanted meat with the coffee. I tell her I thought he was asking “how’s your technique?” By this time we are laughing so hard tears are coming out of my eyes, at the same time the coffee is burning my fingers. I have to set it down to let my fingers cool off and Liza touches the coffee cup and makes some comment about the coffee cup sleeve, which make s me laugh even harder. We finally make it back to Rey who is looking at us like we are crazy (which we probably are). He asks what we’re laughing about, but both of us are laughing so hard we cannot tell the story. I hand Rey his coffee, which he instantly sets down because it is so hot. We tell him our versions of what we heard. I think it is one of those “you had to be there” moments.
While we wait to board, we see a number of people running, luggage in hand, from one gate to the next. The gate we are at keeps calling out names and announcing it’s the final boarding call. Rey notices this and says something like, “you know, they announced their final boarding for the last ten minutes?” Later, we see a lady who had been sitting near us when we first arrived, walking with an employee of the airport crying and talking to the employee. She was saying something about waiting and they didn’t saying any thing. They didn’t announce any thing. She obviously had missed her flight and was extremely upset by it. We wondered if she was suppose to be flight that just left from our gate.
We finally board the plane and take off on 1Time airlines. Lisa and I have our laptops out and are “blogging” and giggling the whole flight. We still haven’t recovered from our coffee incident. Rey tells us we look like journalists. I said I feel like I’m with National Geographic (my dream job). Liza says she was thinking more along the lines of Sex and the City. I ask Rey what his blog style would be. He replies: Ernest Hemingway. After contemplating it for a few minutes, I change mine to a cross between National Geographic and National Lampoon. Hmm, Geographic Lampoon?
During the flight, Liza mentions that I had seen her at her best: sleeping and snoring. I remind her that she heard the lions roar at the first safari dinner; my stomach growling very loudly. We both start laughing very hard, again. Rey, amazingly, didn’t hear my stomach growl, so he didn’t know what we were talking about. It was difficult to explain as we were both laughing too hard.
Cape Town
We arrive in Cape Town at about 9 pm tired and silly. We get to the baggage claim and a couple places of luggage come, one of them is mine. We wait for another 10-15 minute. No luggage. Liza thinks that they had to call an ambulance for the poor guy who had to unload her bag. Finally, the rest of our luggage arrives.
We walk over to the Imperial rental car desk. Rey signs the paper work and we are escorted to the rental car. It is a four door VW Polo, which is similar to the VW Jetta in the US. We look at the vehicle and wonder how we are going to fit four people with over weight luggage into this car. The attendant manages the squeeze Liza’s monster bag, my large bag, and both of Rey’s bags into the trunk. We put my small suit case on the back seat dividing the rear seat into two separate areas. This is probably a good thing to keep these two tired children (Roger and Liza) who will be sitting back there. Liza and I wait in the car while Rey goes to meet Gareth, who is supposed to arrive at the airport around 9:30pm. They show up with Gareth’s friend from Cape Town, Bonita, who also drove. Luckily, Gareth’s luggage is in Bonita’s car. We follow Bonita to the house in Camps Bay in Cape Town.
As we drove to the rental house in Camps Bay, Gareth is mentioning points of interests as we drive by. The only problem is that it is late and dark, and we cannot see any thing. He informs us that the Atlantic Ocean is on our right. Liza asks “is that all that black area, where there’s no light? This strikes me as very funny. But then, I’ve been up since 2 am and just survived the Johannesburg airport, for the second time. Gareth also points out that Cape Town is famous for the table monson. Liza asked “the what? Gareth repeats “the Tower Monson.” Liza turns to me and mouths “do you understand?” I shook my head and mouth “no.” We both start laughing but try to suppress it, but the sound of the other person laughing makes us laugh even harder. I haven’t had that happen since I was a kid, we both were trying as hard as we could to not laugh.We finally regain our composure. Later on the drive, Gareth mentions tower monson again, and Liza asks him “What is it? How do you spell it?” Rey says “Mountain! She’s having trouble with your accent.” Liza and I totally lose it. For the second time in one day, I’m laughing so hard I have tears coming out of my eyes.
We finally arrive at the rental house. The house is a fortress, with a steel garage door and electrified fence, just like safari. As we are trying to find the front door and discussing dinner planes, someone driving by asks if we need help with something. Rey says that we were looking for number 19, and they continue on. I could tell the person asked the question to see if we belonged there. Rey rings the door bell an older lady with a very heavy accent. She escorts us down stairs and the first thing she wants to show us is how to set the alarm. She try’s to give us a demo of the alarm system. Both Rey and I try to pay attention, but I felt like quoting Little Britain again and saying; “Can’t understand a word she said.” She is having problems with the alarm system and yells upstairs to her husband. He walks down and try’s to try to figure out the alarm. Both heavy accent and start speaking another language (I think). Later Liza and I both were wondering if they were speaking another language or English. They finally figure it out, tell us if we leave to make sure to turn on the alarm, and they walk upstairs. Moments later, their alarm goes off. I think they inadvertently turned on their alarm during the demo.
The first night is very windy. Bonita drives us down a local place called Dizzy for dinner. Cape Town has, and most of South Africa, have parking guards (or attendants). They stand by the side of the road and in parking lots helping people find parking and making sure no one breaks into the cars. The have no power or authority to do any thing, but at least they are their, and they expect a tip. A couple days later, Liza asks Gareth why they are called parking gods. With their accent, it sounds like parking gods. So for the rest of the vacation, they are called the parking gods.
Earlier that night, Gareth had recommended the Tower Monson (Mountain) hike and mentioned it to Bonita. She tells us that she has some friends that are hiking Lions Head in the morning. She makes a phone call and tells her friend that she has friends that are “aching for a hike." I love that phrase. You don’t hear people use the word “ache” that way any more. Usually, it’s “aching from” not “aching for.”
Bonita mentions that recently ten of them drank 150 shots after completing a triathlon. I’m impressed that ten people can drink 150 shots. That’s 15 shots per person. I ask Bonita what was the time span they drank the 150 shots. She answers by telling me about the triathlon. It dawn on me that to her, I have an accent too, and by her reaction and answer, she was probably thinking “Didn’t understand a word he said”.
While we are having drinks at the Dizzy, I hear a lady or more than one lady screaming, drawing the attention of some people, but not everyone’s. It reminds me of Meerkat Manor or a Discover Channel program the way people “prairie dog” (stand up and look) to the sound of one of them being attacked. Shortly later, police show up, but I cannot see what is going on.
Later that night, the bouncer throws someone out. They get in an argument. The bouncer keeps telling the guy to leave. The person he is escorting out keeps saying something about what happened to you, as in not being one of us any more. (Both the bouncer and the guy being thrown out are black. A couple days later, I learn the South American definition of black and colored. I’ll define those later.) A few minutes later, I see a police van and about 6-8 police man wrestling with the man. They throw him in the back of the van. One officer grabs the top part of the door and what appears to be kicking the guy in the van. As the van drives off, I can see it is rocking a little bit. Not sure if the guy is trying to break out or if someone is in there with him. The whole time, people at the bar/restaurant are not fazed by either incident. I later mentioned it to Rey and Liza, but neither of them heard or saw any of it. This is not a very good first impression of Cape Town: the fortresses for homes, the need for parking gods, the screaming woman, and the black man getting kicked in the police van.
As I type this up, I realize just how long the day has been. I have been up for probably 24 hours. I started out photographing a thunderstorm in Kruger, and ended in Cape Town having drinks and witnessing (I’ll be careful here) racial tension(?). I’ll expand on this later. As I type this up, it is five days after it occurred, so I have more prospective on what I say.it?” Rey says “Mountain! She’s having trouble with your accent.” Liza and I totally lose it. For the second time in one day, I’m laughing so hard I have tears coming out of my eyes.
We finally arrive at the rental house. The house is a fortress, with a steel garage door and electrified fence, just like safari. As we are trying to find the front door and discussing dinner planes, someone driving by asks if we need help with something. Rey says that we were looking for number 19, and they continue on. I could tell the person asked the question to see if we belonged there. Rey rings the door bell an older lady with a very heavy accent. She escorts us down stairs and the first thing she wants to show us is how to set the alarm. She try’s to give us a demo of the alarm system. Both Rey and I try to pay attention, but I felt like quoting Little Britain again and saying; “Can’t understand a word she said.” She is having problems with the alarm system and yells upstairs to her husband. He walks down and try’s to try to figure out the alarm. Both heavy accent and start speaking another language (I think). Later Liza and I both were wondering if they were speaking another language or English. They finally figure it out, tell us if we leave to make sure to turn on the alarm, and they walk upstairs. Moments later, their alarm goes off. I think they inadvertently turned on their alarm during the demo.
The first night is very windy. Bonita drives us down a local place called Dizzy for dinner. Cape Town has, and most of South Africa, have parking guards (or attendants). They stand by the side of the road and in parking lots helping people find parking and making sure no one breaks into the cars. The have no power or authority to do any thing, but at least they are their, and they expect a tip. A couple days later, Liza asks Gareth why they are called parking gods. With their accent, it sounds like parking gods. So for the rest of the vacation, they are called the parking gods.
Earlier that night, Gareth had recommended the Tower Monson (Mountain) hike and mentioned it to Bonita. She tells us that she has some friends that are hiking Lions Head in the morning. She makes a phone call and tells her friend that she has friends that are “aching for a hike." I love that phrase. You don’t hear people use the word “ache” that way any more. Usually, it’s “aching from” not “aching for.”
Bonita mentions that recently ten of them drank 150 shots after completing a triathlon. I’m impressed that ten people can drink 150 shots. That’s 15 shots per person. I ask Bonita what was the time span they drank the 150 shots. She answers by telling me about the triathlon. It dawn on me that to her, I have an accent too, and by her reaction and answer, she was probably thinking “Didn’t understand a word he said”.
While we are having drinks at the Dizzy, I hear a lady or more than one lady screaming, drawing the attention of some people, but not everyone’s. It reminds me of Merkat Manor or a Discover Channel program the way people “prairie dog” (stand up and look) to the sound of one of them being attacked. Shortly later, police show up, but I cannot see what is going on.
Later that night, the bouncer throws someone out. They get in an argument. The bouncer keeps telling the guy to leave. The person he is escorting out keeps saying something about what happened to you, as in not being one of us any more. (Both the bouncer and the guy being thrown out are black. A couple days later, I learn the South American definition of black and colored. I’ll define those later.) A few minutes later, I see a police van and about 6-8 police man wrestling with the man. They throw him in the back of the van. One officer grabs the top part of the door and what appears to be kicking the guy in the van. As the van drives off, I can see it is rocking a little bit. Not sure if the guy is trying to break out or if someone is in there with him. The whole time, people at the bar/restaurant are not fazed by either incident. I later mentioned it to Rey and Liza, but neither of them heard or saw any of it. This is not a very good first impression of Cape Town: the fortresses for homes, the need for parking gods, the screaming woman, and the black man getting kicked in the police van.
As I type this up, I realize just how long the day has been. I have been up for probably 24 hours. I started out photographing a thunderstorm in Kruger, and ended in Cape Town having drinks and witnessing (I’lll be careful here) racial tension(?). I’ll expand on this later. As I type this up, it is five days after it occurred, so I have more prospective on what I say.
1 comment:
Brilliant blog entry, just brilliant. More people should see it. I've linked to it from our southern African travel website. Please keep up the great writing.
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