Port Alfred & the Kap River Nature Reserve

Before I launch into yet another series of my South African adventures, let me first announce that the picture of the coelacanth is posted in the previous posting titled "Bushman Sands and Hogsback", as promised.

I am pleased to announce that the stench that has permeated our office for the past week has finally been taken care of: Wellington, our gardener, graciously removed a half-decomposed, maggot-infested RAT from behind the walls of our staff kitchen. He removed it by grabbing it with saran-wrap!!! I thought I was going to become ill when I saw Wellington scurry across the garden with the dead rodent in his left hand.

Last weekend was the weekend that was ordained to be “relaxing”. However, it proved to be the opposite, yet the walks we participated in were fantastic and well worth it. Mother and I were invited by a few members who were on the Belton Hike to spend the weekend at their house in Port Alfred, which is a town situated along the coast about 55 km south of Grahamstown. I managed to take some good pictures of the plants in their garden [see below].

This crazy plant does not need soil - most people string it to their fences, and it seems to be extremely content in this location:

On Saturday, after having a magnificent breakfast at a very cute and small breakfast shack (literally), we headed out for a 2 hour walk to see the three sisters (three rocks located on the beach). This beach was so beautiful - wide, lonely and long. I have attached pictures below for your perusal.

Many birds were hovering around the beach, and I saw three dead birds [see below].

We climbed the second sister and check out the marvelous view:


The next day, we buzzed off to the beach for an after-breakfast stroll. Kelly's beach was a bit boring, but it is a "blue-flag" beach, meaning that it is a nicer beach than others, and there is a life guard. Woop-di-doo.

Around noon, mother and I and our hostess joined up with Inka and Otto (a Dutch couple who were both homeopathic doctors) to do a small 2-hour hike in the Kap Nature Reserve. Upon the commencement of the hike, we stumbled across a grumpy looking turtle in the middle of the trail. He didn't budge and seemed to not notice us at all [see below].

We hiked along the Fish River [left] and the day was gorgeous - sunny but not too hot. When we reached the top of a hill, we stumbled upon wild animals who were grazing... We witnessed: zebra, giraffe, impala and one kudu (which make for excellent steaks, according to my game-devouring mother).

This weekend won't have any strenuous South African adventure in store for me. I decided to meet with students to go to the Old Gaol (bar) and sip some wine with some friends. As for Saturday, I will be braai-ing at the office with my colleagues at the Legal Resources Centre to mourn the departure of one of our lawyers, Musa, to the LRC offices situated in Durban. When Musa departs, I take possession of my new apartment, into which my mother will move. I have informed her that she must cook, do the dishes and prepare my lunch daily. Good deal, no?

Bushman Sands and Hogsback

I want to thank my wonderful readers for their nice comments on the blog. I am glad that people around the world can live vicariously through me with this blog.

Another fine week of work went by in Grahamstown for Emma. Now, let's talk about the weekend:

On Saturday, mother and I rented a VW chico and drove to the Bushman Sands game reserve in Alicedale, which is approximately a 40-minute drive north of Grahamstown.

I can't even begin to describe to you readers how awkward (have you ever noticed that the word "awkward" is also awkward to spell???) it is to be driving on the left side of the road. The gear shift is in the same spot, so when one is in first gear, one must push the gear shift away from the body, rather than towards the body. This makes it confusing to even drive a standard car, let alone figure out which side of the road the car is supposed to be on. Pfft!

That said, we survived the drive to Bushman Sands game reserve. Bongani, our jeep chauffeur, introduced himself to us, and off we cruised through the bush. Bongani is a game ranger, and thus has excellent tracking skills. In a game reserve of 4000 hectares, he managed (in 2 hours) to track down: elephants, giraffe, impala, blesbok, wilderbeest and zebra [see below].




The picture that you see below of the giraffe are not mating giraffe. They are two males who thump eachother with their necks. It is seriously a very wimpy fight and I had to laugh tremendously when Bongani explained to me what this silly pair was doing. It was also not difficult to track the giraffe because they are not indigenous to South Africa and thus need to bend down to eat (their necks are not needed here).


We did not spot any lion, since the game rangers had darted the lion earlier that morning because of some canoe trip that was taking place on the river in Bushman Sands that day (and I couldn't exactly say "Damn tourists!"). So, the lion slept.

Around noon, we made a pit stop [see left] and ate some biltong (dried meat) and I indulged in a much-needed cold beer since I was still rattled from the drive in our rental car. Bushman Sands was a sort of retirement home for wild animals. Very nice day, all-in-all, but I feel that safaris are slightly overrated.

That evening, I attended a braai of several Rhodes students which was filled with game meat. There was not a vegetable to be seen. No word of a lie. It was decided at this very braai that Lotta, Wessel and Charl would come to Hogsback with mother and I the following day, and one of them would drive the VW chico rental care, thereby eliminating the necessity for either my mother or myself to drive.

The mystical village of Hogsback is about a 2-hour drive north of Grahamstown and is stunning in terms of the vegetation which is very dense and rainforest-ish (a stark difference when noting the dry bush that surrounds Grahamstown). We did a 9 km hike after having a great breakfast at a sweet little restaurant. I ate spinach and ricotta canneloni for breakfast :) The trail markers were illustrations of little hogs [above]. Before embarking on the details of the hike, I realize that most of my friends had no idea that I was such a hiker. Even Geza had no clue. I must admit, I didn't either. But it's great exercise, great eye-candy and a great way to see a bit of South Africa and meet people. When I return to Ontario, one can be sure that I plan to join the Bruce Trail hiking club :)

Below is a picture where we commenced the hike:

In the Tyume Forest of Hogsback, we hiked past the "Big Tree", which is 800 some-odd years old [below], and to the Madonna and Child Falls [below], which was marvelous. Since my hiking boot parted ways with its sole two weeks before, I was forced to wear my brand new suede tan leather puma loafers. They are no longer new, and no longer tan coloured. A more fitting description is that they are dark brown and stained, from all the mud on the trail in Hogsback. To make matters more painful, they had no grip whatsoever, and I kept making sounds like a baboon (one of the Rhodes students fitted me with this description) to try and prevent myself from falling or stepping in more mud.

[From left] River shot of Wessel, Emma and Charl:

Mother and Lotta taking a quick dip in the river:

An old tree being held up by very stong and old vines:

Wild lilies that grow everywhere here:

[From left] A shot of Lotta, Emma, Wessel and Charl after exiting the Tyume Forest nearing towards the end of the hike:

A well-deserved spectacular view of the landscape after the exit from the Tyume Forest:

And finally, I found Frodo's new home in Hobbiton in Hogsback:

After 6 hours and 130 photographs later, the five of us arrived back where we started and sat down in the same restaurant where I hadn my very indulgent breakfast earlier that morning :) Two beers and a pizza later, we were on the road back to Grahamstown. I slept like a baby chick in an incubator.

Later that week, in Grahamstown, I joined my mother after work to view the miraculous coelacanth fish which was caught circa 1940 for 100 pounds by some extremely proud bloke. Grant has repeatedly asked me if I had seen this fish yet, and I can now proudly say, "Grant! I finally saw the fish!!! :)" It is a fish with prehistoric roots and the fins bore slight similarity to little arms(yike!). I must also add that this fish was so ugly, I have no idea how they managed to mate [stay tuned - a picture of this Quasimodo will be posted next week when I remember to bring my camera to work].

Belton Bees, Bloopers and Blunders

This is going to be a good one.

My mother arrived last Saturday. My roommate Nikki and I picked her up and transported her to her bachelor apartment situated at 4 darling street (approximately a 3 minute walk from me). I didn't know that she had a dog phobia, and only discovered this when Speedy, the landlady's boxer / pitbull came running out to greet us. That set aside, mother liked the place which has a fantastic garden, and we guzzled some good Western Cape wine complemented with steaks to celebrate her arrival in South Africa.

The next morning, we woke up at 6:00 a.m. to prepare for the 13 km hike on the Belton trail near Kenton-on-sea that I decided to drag her along on (she did consent to the hike prior to her arrival). When we arrived at the beginning of the trail, we had no idea what we were in for. Seriously. Above is a photo of my mother at the commencement of the hike.

It rained, shone, and blew and the hike leader (who owned the land on which the trail was situated) raced ahead with no breaks for poor mother and I for 5 hours! My mother was visibly slowing down after about 3 hours, and had a look of despair and extreme fatigue. She didn't make eye contact, didn't talk and her arms dangled alongside her body. She managed to trip and fall twice, causing alarm to Tony (a hiker who walked behind her) who fussed over her and made sure we were all okay. To make matters worse, if there was a 5 minute break or so, we were precluded from enjoying it because we were the last ones: when we caught up finally, the pack marched on, giving us no rest time, or time to take pictures. I did manage to take a few pictures during the sunny periods of the hike [see below].

At one point after hiking for 1 1/2 hours, the hike leader decided to explain something about this, that or the other to us, and to my alarm, I noticed that 3 cows were charging at the dogs who were hiking with us. None of the other members of the group seemed alarmed at this, but I was coveting a bush which could hopefull shelter me from angry and annoyed South African cows [see right].

Into about 1/3 of the hike, the sole of my left hiking boot decided to part ways with boot. To remedy this shameful disobedience, a member of the hiking club gave me a string from her backpack which I used to tie my shoe and sole together. This worked relatively well but for the fact that I had to re-tie it every hour, getting my hands extremely muddy. I swore to never buy another pair of Italian hiking boots.

Tony, who was a very nice farmer, offered to carry my mother's backpack (you would too if you saw the look on her face) after perhaps 8 km of walking. The 4 km/hour rule didn't apply on this trail becuase of all the hills and also the ground was wet, forcing people to hang on to trees for dear life for fear of slipping down the trail. That said, it is quite amusing to see 50-year old women slipping and sliding down hills - truly hilarious. I highly recommend it should the opportunity arise for you.

About 3/4 of the way into the hike, the lady in front of me began to scream and brush at her face. I had no idea what the hell was going on, and my hearing impairment prevented me from hearing the thunderous buzz of a million tremendously angry bees. When the lady in front of me looked up and was still flailing, I saw 4 bees under her right eye and bees on her lip line - my first thought was "every man for himself" and I bolted. I ran so fast, I could have beat Ben Johnson on steroids!

When I thought I was finally safe, I looked behind me to see everyone flailing and screaming, running towards me. When the group stopped running, a kind lady began to pluck all the stingers out of the lady who had been in front of me with the bees on her face. Then, to my alarm, I saw more bees on my mother, on her fleece jacket, trying to get their stingers in! Yikes! This led me to scream and run better than Ben Johnson yet once more. After feeling "safe" again, I looked behind me, and the crowd was running my way again. Finally, we seemed to get rid of them. Another lady claimed she was allergic to bee stings, and my kind mother, even though she had bees INSIDE her fleece jacket and had been stung on her hair line and her lip, attended to the lady. About 4 minutes later, Tony, the kind man carrying my mom's bag, came strolling out of the bush with his home-crafted walking stick. He had been stung on the face multiple times and was also carrying the bag of the lady who was allergic to bees - apparently she had dropped it and ran for dear life.

After this episode, and another bout of rain, we lost the pack. At this point, I also lost the string that kept my shoe and sole together, and I had just about "had it" with the militant march leader who stopped at nothing. No pee breaks, no photo breaks, no rest breaks, no view admiring!!

We finally reached the pack, and there was a pick-up truck waiting for us there. Half still had to walk about 3 km, but mother and I and Tony seized the moment and jumped in the back of the pick-up truck which had metal bars to keep people in. We stood up during the ride, and I managed to get whacked in the head by tree branches a few times. I almost got decapitated at one point, but Tony managed to yank me downwards just in time.

The reward of all this was that we ate hamburgers at a lunch-time braai (BBQ) located at the guest house of the hiking trail [see left], and craved a cold beer (but we hadn't brought any). The view was smashing [see below]. People were impressed with my mother for attempting such a hike only one day after her arrival into South Africa and had to laugh at my sense of humor about my disobedient Italian sole. Mother and I were given some phone numbers and were invited to some braais and weekends and people's houses in the future.

Mother and I had to laugh so hard when we returned to Grahamstown. I was exhilarated by all the material I had acquired for this blog, and also had to laugh at my mother's plight: stumbling through the bush, getting stung by bees, getting rained on, slipping down slopes and hanging on to bushes for dear life. What an adventure. No regrets. I just thank the Lord that we didn't meet a puff adder, cobra or whatever else lurks in the bush.

Mother felt that we should do something more relaxed the weekend coming up. I concurred.

Cops and Robbers

There are three things I need to clarify before plunging into an update:

First of all, I have been informed by Mr. Dave Kokai (Geza Kokai's vigilant brother who is a chef) that the photo of the picture of spinach below is not an African version of spinach, but is actually Swiss chard. My mistake. The stores here label it "spinach" and I did not question it any further since I had never purchased Swiss chard in the stores in Canada (apparently, it is available at Dominion and Loblaws).

Secondly, I have changed the settings of this blog so that everyone may post comments, and not only those who are members of blogger.

Thirdly, to those of you who are not too familiar with the internet and blogs: if you click on a picture, you can view it in a separate window in a larger format.

Now, on to the news:

You will note that there is no personal picture with this update to the blog. Why? Well, on Friday evening, while I ate dinner at the "Rat and Parrot" (the local watering hole in Grahamstown) and had a few beers afterwards, I momentarily failed to pay attention to my purse. It was stolen from right under my nose and I never even saw who took it. Another dumb blonde also had her purse stolen that night. We were sitting ducks. The contents of the purse were as follows: camera, wallet, cell phone, gucci sunglasses, denim jacket, mascara and lip gloss.

My dearest mother has been so assertive in this matter and immediately cancelled all my bank cards for me. Replacements are to be mailed to my work here in Grahamstown. Furthermore, she and Klaus have bought a new Sony DSC-T9 digital camera for me. It costs more than the Pentax Optio S6 that I had, but it is a beauty [see picture to the left]. It is about the size of a credit card, and has 6.0 megapixels. "Make no mistake", dear readers, I must reimburse her, but it is cheaper to purchase a camera in Canada than here, since they import them all from foreign countries anyways.

The locks on my door needed to be changed, at my expense of course. *sigh*. I have kicked myself in the tush over and over again. I hereby do solemly vow, from henceforth on, to sport a "man-purse" as my former supervisor, Grant, is so clever to do. A "man-purse", or a "manurse" as I refer to them, is a small purse that one can carry over the shoulder sideways, and are often Diesel purses or what not. I shall also emanate a gutteral growl at anyone who comes within one metre of my "manurse".

After being robbed on Friday, I spent the Saturday and Sunday at my supervisor's house (Sarah) in Bathurst. We visited Port Alfred (where the beach and the great whites are) with Sarah's family and a handful of other friendly people. The weather was HOT HOT HOT (32 degrees), and I proceeded to perfect my South African tan yet again. On Saturday evening, Sarah hosted a party for the other Canadian intern at the LRC and that was extremely merry. I even managed to win 20 rand through a well-played game of pool. Dinner was truly scrumptious and the company was great :)

That sums up my fifth weekend in South Africa. Off topic: I received a few more pictures of the Bushman River Canoe Trip from a friend and have posted them below. I will post more pictures when I get my new camera on Saturday, when my mother arrives from Amsterdam to stay in Grahamstown for 6 weeks.