Africa, Namibia

Travelogue Namibia 1: Luderitz

LUDERITZ

24-25 September 2021

A Namibian trip had been on the cards for years; deprioritised for the very many other adventures that had swallowed up all the not-enough leave days.

Having robbed us of a planned trip to Lesotho in July with our friends Michele & Ian, finally the pandemic provided the perfect window of opportunity for a cross-border flit, between a brutal winter 3rd Covid Wave and any hope of travel abroad opening up again while South Africa was on the Red List.

Highly motivated, Christian took it upon himself to sketch a magnificent roadtrip for our Awesome Foursome that would include desert, sea, mountains, bush and city breaks all wrapped up in a 10 day whirlwind tour. With the magnitude of expansive Namibia, it was going to be a lot of driving. But with good company and lots of exciting excursions ahead, we jumped at the chance!

We booked our flights; holding our breath that the Covid infection numbers would stabilise and the borders remain open. When things looked promising, we booked all the accommodation and the rental car and that was it, the (impatient) countdown began.

You could tell we were hot to trot because we’d booked the red-eye flights out to make the most of our first day of holiday. This meant leaving home at 03h30 for the airport – and a very long hour’s wait between check-in and boarding, in an eerily quiet airport, with “closed until further notice” signs in the Lounge windows.

The flight was uneventful (no doubt thanks to the ridiculous hour and the smattering of passengers sleeping off the early start) and we were soon disembarking the little plane, on the runway in what looked like the middle of nowhere. No city to be seen in any direction; just dry brown semi-desert. How awesome.

We got our rental – a big double-cab Hilux that would see us through even the most rugged parts of our route – and hit the road, with an ambitious 500km of open road standing between us and lunch in Keetmanshoop.

Heading South, the miles sped by on well-maintained roads with little traffic. And not much to see bar the same dry barren veld on either side of the road.

Needing to break the journey, we randomly settled on Kalkrand as a roadside dot on the map. It proved to be little more than that when the reality presented itself; dry, closed petrol pumps, a dodgy pub, a rip-off tuckshop and public toilets at N$2 per person for the pleasure (loosely-termed, with no toilet seats or cisterns and toilet paper rations allocated on upfront cash payment – with exact monies required or no change issued).

Back in the car with massively overpriced water and chips, not 10 minutes later we drove through Namibia’s version of the Harrismith one-stop. Would have been far better suited to our intentions. Typical!

By 2 o’clock we reached Keetmanshoop, which was the town at the crossroads at which our southerly journey turned west towards the coast. It proved to be an awkward time to get lunch, with several places already concluded their lunch sitting and only reopening for dinner at 5.

Determined not to do a fast food chain lunch, we found the Bird’s Nest Hotel was open, and happy to serve us in their courtyard terrace. We ordered wraps and had our first Windhoek draught to celebrate our arrival in Namibia.

Far from done with driving for the day, we were back in the car by 15h30 with another 330km yet to do to get to Luderitz.

The terrain gradually metamorphosed from the dry veld generously dotted with brown shrubs, to rocky landscape and then to the sandy desert we had been expecting all along. Not an ideal drive to be playing I Spy, with so little stimulus!

We were very pleased when we eventually got our first glimpse of the shimmering Atlantic. Even though it was just gone 18h30, it was still light and we got to enjoy spectacular views from our digs for the next two nights; sea-facing suites in an Airbnb on the Shark Island peninsula that jutted out into the ocean from the base of town.

Luderitz was a sweet and compact little town so nothing was very far from our homebase. We decided to get moving to catch the last of the sunset at the Luderitz Yacht Club, a few hundred metres away at the waterfront, obviously.

The barman served us ice-cold Windhoek draught in ice-cold beer mugs and we celebrated our arrival before heading off to The Portuguese Fisherman, which our host had recommended to us for dinner. We saw why, with a magnificent meal of fresh seafood plucked straight off the local coastline.

Curfew and the long day curtailed any further shenanigans and we were pleased to get an earlyish night to recharge the batteries.

We had driven past Kolmanskop on our way into Luderitz and had a sneak peek of the famous Ghost Town, which was #1 on our To Do list. A few inquiries revealed that there were guided tours at 09h30 and 11h00, so we chose the latter to allow for a breakfast in the restaurant in the Ghost Town beforehand.

The tour was brilliant. Our guide set the scene with the story of Luderitz, named after a tobacco dealer from Bremen. Looking for copper, he had completely overlooked the diamonds that existed in abundance just down the drag. Over 5 million carats were mined in Kolmanskop; 90% gem quality diamonds (10% industrial) compared with 60/40 in Kimberley.

Although even that was relatively short-lived when 1927 saw the start of the death of Kolmanskop when bigger diamonds were found on the other side of the Orange River so all the people and equipment went there. There was mass exodus from the town which eventually died completely when the hospital closed in 1956.

Kolmanskop was an open air museum, where visitors are guided through the existing buildings to get the history and anecdotes, and then are free to wander at will in and out of the houses and businesses of the deserted town.

The tour began in the Town Hall, which sounded pretty lush for this weird man-made oasis in the Namib, at the turn of the last century. The Hall had a champagne lounge for the ladies, a smoking and poker room for the men, with a restaurant that had bell strings suspended from the ceiling and over the tables such that each could command personalised service from the kitchen, where you can still see the original stoves that prepared hundred of meals a day. It also had gym equipment and housed the first library in southern Africa. Below was the bowling alley – complete with still-operational mechanism to return the ball from the skittles end to the start of the lane! – with the original bar and bar-fridge still in place.

The Hall was on Kaizer Wilhelm Street (Millionaire’s Row), where you were still able to walk through many of the buildings, including the architect’s house, the Quartermaster’s house that also acted as B&B for the VIP guests and international artists who came to put on shows on the stage in the Town Hall.

Our guide told us that the houses were very advanced for their time. There were seawater taps in the houses. Fresh drinking water was imported from Cape Town in barrels, by the thousands of kilolitres! There was even a seawater swimming pool with diving board.

The hospital was also very advanced for its time and could bed 250 people at a time – which seems like a lot since there were only 300 German adults, 44 children and 800 Namibian workers living in Kolmanskop – and first Xray machine in Southern Africa, which was an essential not for health purposes, but rather to detect diamond-smuggling. There was also a wine cellar below because the Head Doctor believed all patients should have a glass of wine every day.

Even though the town was established in 1911, every house had a telephone and electricity. There was an ice factory that used sea water tanks, ammonia gas and electricity to freeze in about 24 hours. Complimentary frozen blocks were delivered to everyone each day to put into their cold cupboard to keep their food cold, along with a crate of lemonade and soda water; all delivered by mule-drawn taxi.

One of the colourful anecdotes shared was in the butchery, where the story goes that the menfolk would get hammered in the bowling alley bar, get into trouble with their wives and then break into the butchery to steal all the sausages when their wives refused them dinner. The butcher would then consult the barman to see who had been at the alley and consequently send them a bill for their haul. Sounds like a fun caper – and like a reasonably good existence in general, bar the actual living in the remoteness of the desert and the punishing windiness.

We suspected the excursion was going to be the highlight of our tour. A great start that was going to be hard to beat!

Still full from the sumptuous breakfast, we skipped lunch in favour of a drive around the Peninsular that we could see across the bay from our deck. Our hosts had put together a printed album of the highlights of Luderitz so we knew to expect a 60km loop with several bays and lookout points.

We picked the more interesting ones; Diaz Point (for the cross placed there by Bartholomew Diaz in 1488) and Halifax Bay for views of the Penguins on Halifax Island and the grave of George Pond of London, who had been outcast from Luderitz and walked to Halifax Bay to reach his only friend on the island, but died of hunger and thirst waiting for the low tide so he could get across. It was, as we suspected commonplace, blowing a gale, so George probably had quite a miserable end of days, poor chap.

Very pleased with our day’s achievements so far, we took a time out at a pizza bar in town called Ritzi’s to grab a cold beer before our walking tour of town. With everything so close together, we figured there was no rush.

Good thing too, because the 2 sights we’d earmarked in town turned out to be literally a couple of hundred metres apart. It was a 20 minute affair to see the famous Lutheran church with its spectacular views and original stained glass windows and Goerke Haus, which was built on Diamond Hill by the richest man in town for his lady, for her arrival from Germany. No expense was spared and he built a fabulous mansion, with everything fully imported from Germany. All for nought though; she got to Luderitz and couldn’t abide the wind so left him and went straight back to Germany.

To be fair, it really is a windy town. But we still enjoyed the view from our relatively sheltered deck as we recounted the many highlights of the day, so this Mrs Goerke might have been a bit hasty.

We closed off our time in Luderitz with sundowners at a fun local pub in town called Bottles, dinner at Essenweitz at the Waterfront and then star-gazed from our deck, thanks to the clear skies and carpet of bright stars that seemed so much closer than at home.

Africa, South Africa

Travelogue Northern Cape: Part 2

NORTHERN CAPE PART 2

03 – 07 August 2021

KAKAMAS

Having already spent our first night in the Green Kalahari belt in Keimoes, the plan was for our second day to be spent travelling to the farthest end such that the remainder of our trip would be spent winding our way back (slowly) in the direction of home.

This meant that Wednesday’s plan began with a visit to Augrabies Falls and had us sleeping in Kakamas.

With only 70km to cover and very relaxed hosts at Bezalel Wine Estate, there was no hurry to start our day. With the sun up and the makings of a lovely morning, it was very refreshing to put on our running togs and take a jog through the vineyards again while we discussed the finer details of the plan for the day.

We settled on a picnic at Augrabies Falls. And we already had all the supplies. Bonus.

On the road with our friends, Motley Crue (the audiobook into which we were now thoroughly engrossed), the time (and the endless bushveld scenery) whizzed by and we were soon at Augrabies Falls National Park.

We pulled up at the main building and – whether it was because of Covid, being midweek or just winter in the Northern Cape – discovered we had the place to ourselves.

Taking the winding path down to the gorge, it was a now-rare pleasure to be able to enjoy the open-air excursion mask-free. The Park has set up wooden walkways and viewing decks along the edge of the gorge and we walked end-to-end, able to admire the fierceness of the falls, the magnitude of the gorge and the scary drop between us on the overhanging viewing deck and the water so far beneath us.

Having done 2km along the walkways, we were ready for our light picnic lunch and enjoyed our sarmies, watching the little dassies sniffing and scurrying about the place, like chubby little Daxies.

The Kakamas Hotel was also directly on the N14 which runs from Upington to Augrabies so we’d passed it on our way through and, with the hotel being on the far side of Kakamas from the Augrabies side, by the time we checked in we’d had two passes through Kakamas which, thanks to boundless graphic signage, was enough to give us locals-level qualification on lay of the land and a very clear agenda. Wine-tasting and pizza at Die Mas.

The Kakamas Hotel for all its small town lodge charm boasted a 4-star rating, which showed in the efficient way we were managed from car to our ultra modern suite, with slimline admin consisting only of our obligatory Covid declaration form and the three little words everyone is always excited to hear: Breakfast Is Included.

Pausing ever so briefly to appreciate our pretty home for the night – from the gravel pathway across the shaded lawns down to the pond where the local gaggle was lazily sliding across the still waters – we were motivated to get back in the car and on our way to our next adventure.

Die Mas had come recommended to us by friends in Jo’burg, and lived up to the anticipation that had been set.

With Wine, Brandy and Gin tasting on offer, we settled (as the only customers, spoilt for choice) at a bench table at the outer edge of the grapevine-covered terrace to enjoy the beautiful sunshine and wonderful view, and ordered the white wine flight.

The chap serving us had no sooner poured into the tasting glass when a gust of wind came along and blew it right over! With no intention of wasting any more wine, we moved inside to an upright-barrel table.

Having thoroughly enjoyed the white flight, we ordered the red as well. While swirling and sniffing and sipping and critiquing, a couple of swarthy chaps came in and sat at one of the sets of table and chairs.

With awe, we watched as they ordered the wines, the brandy and the gin tastings all in one go. AND a Brandy and Coke long drink each for in between. They did a bit of swirling and some sniffing, but mostly slinging and giggling and having the best time.

We, meantime, had been served the bad news that the kitchen was not operating. So no pizza. But, when in Rome and all that, so we did a brandy tasting (seemed to be working for our neighbours) and ordered a bottle of Rose Pinot Noir instead.

The wind had died down so we moved back outside and enjoyed the start of sunset with the lovely local’s finest, pleased to see our super-tasters from inside leaving with arms laden with the cases they’d bought to take home.

An extensive Google to try and find a dinner alternative revealed a distinct lack of options. Not believing what we were seeing, we took a drive through the part of town that seeped inland from the N14 and despite finding schools, the usual handful of town buildings, a compact and neat suburb and after a brief foray into the local settlement, we found that Google had indeed been telling the truth.

Fortunately, our hotel had a restaurant, so we had a very pleasant poolside dinner with another bottle of Die Mas Pinot Noir for good measure.

UPINGTON

While our hotel was a pretty slice of the countryside, it was also right on the main road, which left nowhere to do our now-ritual morning run.

Good opportunity for a sleep-in and a hearty brekkie before the hop back along the now-very-familiar N14 to Upington.

We’d called ahead and arranged early check-in at our hotel, the Oasis, which soon proved to be a lot of value for our money, from the prime location on park-and-walk-anywhere Schroder Street, to the airconditioned reception to the access to the amenities at the Protea next door. And yes, Breakfast Was Included.

Since it wasn’t yet midday, we had plenty of time for a session in the fitness centre in the Protea. Chris opted to do weights and whatnot while he had access to the equipment and I filled the gap of my missing running partner by running along with the Olympics contestants on the telly in the gym. I did 2 sets of 3000m steeplechase with the world’s finest athletes, cheating a bit since I didn’t think the hotel would appreciate me leaping on the treadmill or splashing through the kiddies pool for authenticity of my virtual event.

Our pre-planning had uncovered a local offering called “Sakkie Se Arkie” that looked worth a try. The review promised a relaxing couple of hours of sunset cruise down the Orange River, which sounded about our speed. Showered and ship-shape, we prioritised going down to the jetty to book so that we would work timings around that excursion.

Fortunately we had taken the car purely because the Orange River Wine Cellars tasting rooms were 4km from the hotel or we would have felt very foolish driving to Sakkie Se Arkie, which we’d assumed as a turn of phrase when the Oasis receptionist had told us it was ‘around the corner’, but which turned out to even be understated since it was just on the other side of the Protea Hotel building!

Sadly, the cruise season had not yet begun (combination of weather and lack of demand) so there would be no Arkie for us. But there was wine-tasting, so all was not lost.

And neither could we be since the tasting rooms were literally on our road. Four short kilometres straight-straight down dead-straight flat-as-a-pancake Schroder Street.

We were very soon seated at a table at Orange River Cellars with a flight of 7 of their finest wines to sample; 3 whites and 3 reds of our choosing + a bonus red one that was new and being promoted.

We worked through the rainbow of generous tasters while lunch was served and then, with nothing else on the agenda, ordered a couple of glasses of our favourites and frittered away the afternoon, absorbed in the novelty of wine-routing.

We had hoped to get a pint of Guinness somewhere in the Northern Cape to add to our online Guinness Index. Some Google research had offered the promise of an Irish pub in Upington. And of course it was said to be on Schroder Street.

A few doors down from our home base, we had driven past it on our way out. It looked shut at the time, but we irrationally hoped it was something odd like small town hours or curfew-related restrictions or somesuch.

No such luck. On our return to our side of Schroder, a close up inspection revealed a note in the door that advised the pub was closed owing to lockdown and it was unknown when or if it would reopen. Equal parts sad for them and disappointing for us.

This only left the Red Ox for us for sundowners.

A complete surprise, the Red Ox proved to be a particularly shiny hidden gem. Upmarket enough to be associated with Sandton’s Butcher Shop or Rosebank’s Grillhouse, but with the added appeal of being riverside with spectacular sunset views over the Orange, our only regret was that we had eaten so recently since the delicious cuts on display in the counterstyle showcases and in the “Buy to Braai” fridges at the entrance were nothing short of mouth-watering.

We made do with sampling the local Kalahari Lager and Red Ox pilsner as it got dark and we planned our next day.

KURUMAN

When we had done our planning, we had only booked up until Upington, leaving the last couple of nights free in case we wanted extra time anywhere or got referrals along the way. Neither being the case, we were flying a bit blind, with the internet as our guide.

Scrutinising the route home, we made two decisions; firstly, to spend Thursday night in Kuruman (because we’d heard of it and there was a hotel in the same chain as the Kakamas Hotel that we’d so enjoyed) and secondly, to return home on Friday since the remaining distance was manageable and there was nothing else ‘must do’ en route.

Thursday morning began with a last run in the vineyards, accessing them by crossing the Orange on the bridge we’d seen from the Red Ox the night before, followed by a hearty breakfast at the hotel – a rare-pleasure buffet, carefully managed by the banqueting staff in line with rigid Covid protocols.

The only stop we made on the trip to Kuruman was at Kathu.

Established as an iron ore mining town, our limited view of Kathu gave us the opinion that although nice enough, there’s not a hell of a lot to see and do, so we settled for a quick visit to the local mall.

Leaving Kathu, it would appear that the town holds future promise with a lush looking country club and some adjacent residential development.

We did not hold a similar opinion of Kuruman which, sadly, was dusty and dilapidated by first impression.

When at check-in the manager at Kuruman Hotel warned us off the town’s claim to fame, the Eye of Kuruman, because of threat of vandalism and theft, the day’s fate was sealed.

We had booked a garden unit and it was right next to the pool so we did with our last afternoon on this roadtrip what we so seldom do on holiday. Absolutely nothing. And loved it.

Africa, South Africa

Travelogue Northern Cape Part 1

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NORTHERN CAPE PART 1

31 Jul – 02 Aug 2021

After a long year of ups and lockdowns and the bitter disappointment of a cancelled skiing trip to Lesotho in July, a roadtrip getaway was exactly what the doctor ordered. And, with international borders a challenge, the Covid virus still in a brutal Third Wave and a country recently ravaged with violence, where better than the most remote part of the country, the Northern Cape.

Knowing little about the region, surface-deep research revealed that we’d uncovered a hidden gem. Having thought of the Northern Cape as desert, we were delighted to find that it is also home to the Green Kalahari, a lush fertile strip along the Orange River with all sorts of unexpected and exciting things; most notably, a wine route!

Intentions set, we plotted a fun and relaxing week-long roadtrip. And having booked our leave at short notice, were in the car a few days later, heading off on our adventure.

The first day was the longest drive with 480km to Kimberley. A relaxed departure, good roads and traditional Wimpy pitstop had us at our hotel late afternoon, to enjoy the last of the sunshine. And to revel in being in short sleeves after having struggled through weeks of gruelling Joburg winter.

We’d picked the Protea Marriott because of its location overlooking the famous Big Hole of Kimberley, fancying drinks on the terrace while taking in the biggest hand-dug pit in the world… 

But a hole is honestly not much to look at, so we went to the Big Hole Museum (literally next door) instead. The Museum is housed in an Old Town reconstruction of the early buildings that sprung up around the mine and became the first beginnings of Kimberley.

The museum (and access to the Hole viewing deck) was already closed when we got there, but we were free to wander the dusty streets with its quaint collection of examples of the shops and offices that must have serviced the miners that flocked to dig their way to fame and fortune.

The experience includes an Old Town pub and grill, called The Occidental. Decorated like an old world tavern, but with the benefits of new world technology and a very modern menu, we settled into the sepia setting to spend the evening watching the Springboks play the Lions, while munching on delicious deep fried pork belly and rump strip nachos, washed down with the local Vokof craft beer.

SUNDAY

On Sunday morning we decided to do our own jogging tour of the newer part of town to build up to breakfast, so hit the roads on a winding tour that took us past sportsgrounds, university, schools and shopping centres.

A quick Google had revealed that a lot of coffee shops and breakfast spots weren’t open on Sundays and nothing much opened before 10, so we figured we’d squeeze in a quick walking tour of the old Victorian suburb of Belgravia to give Kimberley a chance to wake up properly.

We showered, checked out, and drove (no more than a few minutes) to Lodge Road to go and see the beautifully preserved building, some 130+ years old. 

Belgravia was a stark contrast to the modest suburbs we’d run through earlier in the morning, with manicured lawns and water features bridging pretty fences and the neat and sturdy brickwork that had so well preserved this slice of history.

Using the internet as our guide, we matched house numbers with significance, which centred mostly around the Oppenheimer dynasty. 

Unfortunately the museum and gallery were not open (unclear as to whether a Sunday thing or a Covid thing), which motivated us to get to the breakfast that had morphed into a brunch.

Good thing too, because when we got to the Crazy Horse to get their famous Full English (and then some) breakfast, we were initially disappointed to be told that they were no longer serving breakfast… 
But fate was on our side because this forced us to try a Kimberley special; crumbed and deep-fried rump drowned in cheddamelt sauce. Served with the most buttery mash. What a treat! 

The kitchen was not only epic but also super quick, and we were on the road again just after midday, heading towards Groblershoop for our Sunday night stay.

Driving the Northern Cape really was ‘the open road’. With decent highway slicing through the flat dry bushveld, barely any traffic and continuing the audiobook we’d started the day before (the story of Motley Crue, as told by the band members), the two and a half hour drive was almost relaxing. 

GROBLERSHOOP

As a pitstop to break the journey, we’d chosen Groblershoop for its remoteness, and a quaint little farmstay cottage overlooking vineyards and pecan nut trees on a working farm.

We were most pleased with our choice and were soon lazing on the deck chairs on the sunny stoep – exactly as we’d imagined we would be from the moment we’d seen the ad on Airbnb – admiring the lush lemon trees in our oasis garden, with the grey wintery vineyards as backdrop.

There’s really not much to report about the rest of the day, since we barely moved more than a few metres from the deck chairs to the bench table to play backgammon for hours while the sun set and the stars appeared on the pitch black blanket of sky.

On meeting our host, we had asked about running trails in the area. He’d indicated that we were welcome to run through the vineyards, which would lead us to the Orange River. So, since we’d awoken to a perfect morning, that’s exactly what we did.

We were fortunate to be exploring this part of the world at this time of the year because any sooner and it would have been too cold and any later too hot to have both a refreshing morning trot and a leisurely start to the day. What a novelty to be able to run in these surroundings and deposit ourselves on the riverbank (which looked remarkably like a beach!).

Also in no particular hurry – with our host having invited us to take our time checking out and to just leave the keys in the door (!) – we were able to take our time exploring the farm and still fashion a relaxed brunch from the things we’d brought with us in our cooler, planning ahead for our remote location and self-catering.

KEIMOES

Having previously inquired, we were expecting no-option self-catering at our overnight on the Bezalel Wine and Brandy Estate, so we broke the 130km-odd journey up with a quick stop at Kalahari Mall (which an inadvertent slip of the tongue had us calling it Calamari Hall from the get-go) in Upington to get a few supplies. Nothing fancy, just snacks and treats to see us through, with lunch to be the main meal of the day.

It was very easy to spot our home for the night, with a very conspicuous castle-like entrance on the main N14 road we were travelling from Upington.

We knew immediately that we’d chosen the right place when we were met at the door by an enormous chocolate-coloured dog, who took to us immediately and spent the better part of the afternoon bringing us things to throw for him to retrieve.

With the afternoon’s primary entertainment being a wine and brandy tasting, we prioritised getting a good lunch on board to line the stomach. For once we, never usually liking to be the only people in a restaurant, were grateful for the freedoms it allowed, so we could take off our masks and enjoy the garden and playing fetch like good humans.

With a hearty lamb pie and delicious springbok ciabatta behind us, we started our tasting at around 15h00. 

Martiens, the owner and 4th generation farmer on the Dyasons Settlement, narrated us through a captivating couple of hours, effortlessly mixing tastes of their wine, brandy and infusion products with education on how everything is made and colourful anecdotes of his family’s heritage and experiences.

There was lots to tell, bearing in mind his great-grandfather had started Bezalel Estate, having moved to the Kalahari from Johannesburg, where his grandfather had been the Bezuidenhout who owned the farm that included the current Bez Valley!

We walked away richer for the experience and with a selection of bottles of what was available for sale.

The area and industry had really suffered from the prohibitions of the last couple of years so we were pleased to be able to support local industry with such self-satisfaction.

We returned to our cottage at around 17h00, in time to crack open a bottle of the Colombard we’d just procured and wile away the sunset overlooking the vineyards and the tranquil little pond that completed the picture.

End of Northern Cape Part 1. On to Northern Cape Part 2.

Africa, South Africa

Travelogue Eastern Cape 4: Port Alfred

PORT ALFRED

02 – 04 December 2020

It was our decision to end off in Port Alfred – the closest big dot to the East London airport, from where we would need to depart for home on Friday – that our ‘few days in Kenton’ became a roadtrip of the Eastern Cape. Port Alfred was just that little bit too far as a homebase from which to satellite to the places we’d earmarked as of interest.

We’d had to make some big decisions and trade-offs to make everything fit, one of the more difficult ones being foregoing staying over in Kenton-on-Sea. We had rationalised that it was the most likely destination we’d return to for a longer stay and so comprised to a drive-through on this trip.

We left a murky Colchester behind and drove through a chilly and drizzly Alexandria to pause in Cannon Rocks to see what there was to see (not much; 2 canons and 2 anchors) and then emerge in a sunny Kenton-on-Sea. Quite a microclimate experience in only 80km!

We parked in town, did a bit of window-shopping (mostly of bakery and restaurant menus; can you ever really be too informed??) and walked down to the beach. Even though it was clear skies with the lightest breeze, the beach was empty. Maybe the inclement weather had been there earlier, maybe it was because it was a weekday and shoulder season or maybe Kenton does lunch or siesta in a big way. 

It was quite nice to have the Blue Flag beach to ourselves though.
Also nice to have taken the walk rather than drive down. Gave us time for a proper gawk at the big and beautiful holiday homes, choosing which would be ours should our ship come in.

It was then just a short hop (a bit like the Garden Route) to Port Alfred, where we had no trouble finding our accommodation, one road before a massive bridge and one road on from the main road. Even the navigationally-challenged like me could not but help find the place!

Wiltshire cottage was a little granny flat in the garden of the main house, on a road dotted with Wiltshire rental properties. Owned and managed by a lovely couple, we were warmly welcomed, given a tour and some great advice on what to do and see in the neighbourhood.

Not in any rush to go dashing out again, we enjoyed the comfort of our cosy lounge with an episode of The Crown, which had us hooked after the episodes we’d watched in the downtime enjoyed at our Colchester studio.

Sunset saw us taking a wander down to the beach – an easy walk and near impossible to get lost with beaches curling our neighbourhood on two sides – and along the beachfront to seek sundowners at The Highlander pub, opposite the St Andrews Golf Course.

With Prawns as the chef’s daily special, sundowners soon turned into a seafood feast, which seemed very fitting for our seaside surrounds.

Always a treat to be able to walk home from dinner and en route we smelled the most delicious aroma wafting from a heavenly restaurant that we resolutely decided would make for the perfect farewell dinner.

THURSDAY

With precious little to do on our last day, we started the day with a slow run around the golf course and along the beach. When we got back and were cooling off on our little patio, our host’s stopped to chat and gave us both advice on what to do for the day and an invitation to join them for a social in the evening.

Following their advice, we took a little drive down the coast to see the Fishriver Lighthouse. Even though tours had been cancelled because of the pandemics, it was still possible to drive right up to the lighthouse – and get some great pics from the prime location.

Our host, Roy, had recommended a roadside diner for our lunch. On arrival we found them mid- power failure and apologetic that things were taking longer than usual. We were in absolutely no hurry, so settled in at the beer garden at the back. It was worth the wait and our surf n turf and seafood combo were both excellent (in value and in taste). 

That left time to retreat back to the couch for a few episodes of  sensational series, The Crown, before taking Roy up on his invitation to visit his bar in the early evening, while Leanne was hosting her bookclub in the main house.

Popping across the garden with the last of our beers, we were greeted by a tableful of gents, communed for their ritual bi-weekly social. 

Roy had an impressive bar, walls lined with memorabilia that it had clearly taken a lifetime to collect. Beer bottles, Steins, framed pictures of important event… His flash guided tour didn’t do justice to the treasure chest of memories!

Roy also had a private library annexed onto his bar, with an enviable collection of hardcover books that concentrated on biographies and autobiographies; right up Christian’s alley so led to an energetic back and forth about which ones were best, which stories were believable and what gaps remained to be told of protagonists who were still alive and making history.

On completing the tour, chairs were added to the table for us and, as cameo guests to this clique, we were faced with the usual set of questions (where we’re from, what we do there, what we were doing here and for how long) and then were peppered with appropriate stories in response from group, who were mostly retired to Port Alfred from Joburg, Durban and CT.

They were great company and had it not been our last night, we might have been tempted to stay longer. But alas, it was, so we made a break for it and headed down to the beach for the sunset.

Of course, I’d completely misjudged the directions and so the spot we’d earmarked for sundowners was on the wrong side completely and already well into dusk by the time we got there!

No mind, we still had the restaurant to look forward to and so we made our way over there.

What a gem of a find! Only open 2 months, KC Italia was an intimate eatery with a very focused menu of no more than 8 pasta specials. A good thing too as we still struggled to choose from those limited options! In the end, the coastal theme drew us to the prawns linguine and the salmon tofe (fancy name for shells pasta). 

Able to see into the kitchen through the wide window connected to the dining area, we could see the chef working his magic and creating his masterpieces. It was very up our alley to be able to watch him swirling delicious things in the assortment of pans and scooping our steaming food into bowls, to be picked up immediately and served to us at our table seconds later. 

We had a long and lingering dinner, enjoying every bite of our meal. It was so wonderful I would have licked the bowl if I thought I could get away with it! And I said as much to the chef when he came out to check on us and he beamed, obviously thrilled at the sincere compliment.

His partner, the hostess, spent quite a bit of time chatting to us, excited by their impetuous decision to open the restaurant – post both of them being displaced by Covid closures – and optimistic for their chances for a busy December holiday period. She said that there was fortunately still consistent appetite for restaurant-eating in Port Alfred since there is a large retired community, who have been less economically affected by the pandemic.

A portion of that community were still having a whale of a time when we got back to Wiltshire Cottage. The bookclub had become a lot more audible and we caught snatches of the conversation and intermittent roars of laughter from the gents at the pub. 

With a plane to catch the next morning, we snuck into our cottage and popped on an episode of The Crown rather than getting tangled in the raging nightlife in our back yard.

Africa, South Africa

Travelogue Eastern Cape 3: Grahamstown & Colchester

GRAHAMSTOWN & COLCHESTER

30 Nov – 02 Dec 2020

Leaving Bathurst we travelled along R67 for a quick stop-in at Grahamstown en route to Colchester, where we’d be staying for the next couple of nights. It was just a short hop down the road and held the promise of lunch at the end of the journey.

Pulling into town, we paused at the 1820 Settlers Monuments, which we were expecting to be a single statue. It turned out to be a conference centre with a few statues, a small locked-up fort, a sundial and a very solid lay-of-the-land viewpoint for the town below.

Leaving the monument, we drove down and parked outside one of the many red brick buildings we assumed to be part of the Rhodes University campus, intending to explore the town on foot. It appeared that most of the campus was locked up with occasional signage stating the obvious, 2020 measures in place. 

We walked down High Street, noting the contrast of the elegant brocaded buildings with the modern street level experience, the usual collection of brands every town has (no matter the size) and how relatively easily reversible the neglect could be, to restore some of the town’s lost charm. 

When we’d asked a Grahamstown local we happened to meet in the Pig and Whistle in Bathurst the night before what he recommended for our sightseeing, he’d responded enthusiastically that his hometown highlight is the new curry den. On our loop back up New Street we spotted the very same. The Curry House. Large as life and definitely, by the smells of things, worth a try.

We ordered a pair of bunny chows with a giant samoosa to start and since Covid rules prevented the eatery from seating customers, we walked back to get the car, thinking we would drive to the Botanical Gardens and have a picnic of sorts.

Obviously, it turned out that the Botanical Gardens was right by where we’d parked the car so we drove to get our food and then back again (probably no more than a kilometre or two roundtrip). 

Botanical Garden is a bit of an oversell of a name – lest it create mental images of rolling manicured lawns or structured flowerbeds. Let’s say that ‘lunch in the park’ was a success.

We ticked off the last sight on the list, conveniently (and coincidentally) next door to where we were. The old Grahamstown Prison which now serves as a cafe and bakery. With only a handful of cells, the little prison has been delightfully converted with a themed private dining room in each of the cells, several tables in the open courtyard that served as an open exercise area for the inmates and the kitchen and (self-)service area in what was the guard house. Very quaint. And worth a visit for a meal from what we saw on display.

Having whipped around Grahamstown quicker than expected, Christian suggested that we overshoot our day’s destination to pay a visit to Port Elizabeth for a stroll along the promenade and an early sundowner.

Less than half an hour added onto our journey, it was a splendid idea and we were soon wandering along the beachfront in PE, with the bright sunshine balancing the chilly bluster for which the Windy City is famous.

Chris had spent some time in PE for work so was able to give a vague lay of the land and point out some landmarks. A lovely little big city indeed. Hard to believe we hadn’t visited before.

We rounded the tour with a quick toot at Barney’s Tavern beach bar, which was already buzzing with patrons even though it was mid-Monday afternoon.

Back in the car we retraced our footsteps to our next home, in Colchester. We’d been attracted to this sleepy little town since 2020 and its pandemic had robbed us of our plans to visit Colchester in the UK for a wedding in July.

We were wowed by our accommodation; a brand spanking new, immaculate and tastefully decorated studio that had the best of everything you’d expect – and all sorts of things you wouldn’t (like a sandwich press, a humidifier, an electric beater, Netflix etc etc). We also had a private walled garden (good for keeping the wind out) and a pretty little plunge pool.

We took a wander around our neighbourhood, knowing from the map on the booking site that we were on the Sundays River but not much more than that. Houses were built far from the riverbank with open pedestrian access so we were able to walk alongside the wide, sparkling waters that stretched and slowly ambled from the nature reserve on the right to the sea on the left. 

Being in a secured estate our explore was hampered by the electric fence perimeter, which was our cue to get the car and take a drive to view the other wildlife, at the local pub, Grunter’s. 

It was very quiet (it was a Monday evening after all) but we were pleased with our surf n turf dinner and happy to call an early night since we had an early morning ahead of us.

TUESDAY

Our early morning was to get into the Addo National Park while it was still cool enough to favour good animal sightings. With our nest literally across the road from the Southern entrance of the Park, we’d saved ourselves any additional early rising or unneeded car time. 

We were able to fashion a modest breakfast with our patchwork of supplies and the amply equipped kitchen and rolled into the park, determined that we wouldn’t leave until we saw at least an elephant.

The park issues a map with a checklist of animals each with a points allocation. Christian was thrilled when the first sighting for the day was his; a Dungbeetle scoring him 8 points. Things got tense when he then spotted zebra for an additional point. But, turning a bend that saw the brush give way to an open veld, I evened the scoreboard with not one but two elephants!

From there it was a landslide; kudo, elephants, eland, zebra, elephants, warthogs, elephants, buffalo, camels, ELEPHANTS. It’s a very rewarding game drive experience, getting saturation point of sightings within a couple of hours!

Smug from a very successful morning in the park, we retired to our studio where we enjoyed the rest of the day lounging around, able to relax because there was nothing else unseen or undone in this sleepy little enclave. What a great day.

Africa, South Africa

Travelogue Eastern Cape 2: Bathurst

BATHURST

29 November 2020

We left Hogsback and dropped our friends off at East London Airport. Then we drove along the coast as far as Port Alfred, where we turned inland for the 10 minute stretch to Bathurst. We had chosen to stay at the Historic Pig & Whistle Inn because it houses the longest running pub in South Africa and puts on a legendary Sunday roast.

Cutting it very fine for the kitchen’s published 3pm close, we called ahead to secure our roast (lamb) dinners and made it in the nick of time, pulling into a parking bay in front of the hotel with mere minutes to spare. There were a few tables of diners and drinkers being entertained by a live band positioned underneath the hotel’s sign on the wide curb.

The chefs had waited to plate for us, so we were served fresh piping-hot roasted goodness smothered in a rich gravy – and for that moment all was right with the world!

With a full belly we were newly excited to explore our surrounds, so without bothering to complete check-in or unpack the car we embarked on a self-guided walking tour of town.

Established in 1820, it’s hard to believe this peaceful little village on the banks of the Kowie River had such a turbulent start.

Established on the frontier, it was an area of fierce conflict between settlers moving northwards and African pastoralists and refugees from the Mfecane moving southwards.

The settlement was named after the secretary of State for the colonies at the time, a Lord Henry Bathurst, and was intended to be the administrative capital of the Albany Settler Country, but that was moved to Grahamstown because of its superior military position.

Bathurst is now renowned for its quaint and old architecture, counting among the visible relics – all on our short self-guided walking tour of the town centre – the oldest unaltered Anglican church building in South Africa (St John’s), the oldest functioning primary school and the oldest continuously licenced pub in the country, housed in the historic Pig and Whistle Inn, which is where we chosen to stay for the night.

The inn building was originally built as the Bathurst Forge in 1821 but converted into a hotel in 1831 and has housed endless guests in its first floor 10 rooms, with countless more guests “having a swig at the pig” or enjoying the traditional Sunday roast lunch as we had.

On finally checking in – a process managed by a local patron from the bar in the tender’s absence – we were escorted to Room 8, a corner room which overlooked the town’s main crossroad, and we were delighted with the hardwood floors, the old-world 4-poster bed and in-room basin (with the rest of the facilities shared and accessible from the landing).

Opening our windows we could hear that the Bathurst Arms across the road was rather festive so, after having an obligatory Guinness in the Pig and Whistle (to log on our Guinness Index), we made our way to see what was going on.

The pub was full to bursting, with an open mic style live music show drawing and holding the patrons. Some were more conventionally talented than others, but the small crowd cheered all gamely and sang along whenever the words were known. No doubt both the brave showmanship and the good spirits were fuelled by house beers sold in quarts.

Not particularly hungry, but spurred by the numerous mentions of the town’s epic pizza place, we rounded the evening off with a pizza to share at Pickwick’s seeing as it was across the road from our hotel. We could see what the fuss was about as we enjoyed our large, topping-laden cheesy nightcap.

MONDAY

Waking the next morning we filled in the gaps left on out on the walking tour from the previous day, with a jogging tour that would see us completing the further afield sights within an hour or so, on a wider 10km route.

First target was the Old Powder Magazine, which is the oldest building in Bathurst and was erected as a military supply shelter in advance of the establishment of the town. We headed off, thinking we knew where we were going but ended up taking a few wrong turns – easy to do when your destination doesn’t have a formal address and none of the roads are marked. Nonetheless, we found it and were pleased that besides the landmark itself, the position on top of the hill offered a worthwhile panoramic view of the surrounds.

From there we ran past town and up another hill to the Toposcope. This is a stone beacon that was built for land surveying purposes and still shows the plaques indicating which settler families from where were allocated which farms and what distance from the beacon. An open air and free experience that is a wonderful slice of history.

Running down the hill and back to the main road, we ticked the last box with a visit to the giant pineapple which, despite the rich history of this living relic of a town, is most often the first thing to be mentioned.

Situated on Summerhill Farm, the Big Pineapple stands three stories high with a viewing deck on top and a pineapple museum inside. At 56 feet tall, it is officially the biggest pineapple in the world and was built by members of Bathurst’s agricultural community in the 80s to pay homage to the prickly fruit as it had provided salvation to the farmers in the 1800s who had struggled to grow anything until they planted pineapples.

Completing the last dash home along the main road, we washed, dressed and packed up, ready to head to Grahamstown for the next adventure.

Africa, South Africa

Travelogue Eastern Cape 1: Hogsback

HOGSBACK

26-29 November 2020

Having last been to Hogsback for a surprise wedding – and having a truly fabulous weekend! – we jumped at the chance for a revisit with the then-bride and groom, Tim and Wendy, with whom we had shared many other travel adventures subsequent. This time to participate in The Hobbit Trail run race. It was supposed to be in April but with 2020 doing what 2020 did, Pandemic ‘n all, it had been postponed to the last weekend in November, which magically coincided with the happy couple’s 4 year wedding anniversary!

With much excitement, we headed to OR Tambo Airport and found it to be tumbleweeds compared to its usual bustle. With a life-saving Wimpy on board (it had been a mad breakfastless panic to finish off last bits of work in the morning and Covid measures meant no catering in the air) we were ready for our next adventure.

Landing in East London, Chris secured our chariot and we were soon racing off in our Toyota Corolla, blazing trails into the mountains that would be our home for the weekend.

On Tim and Wendy’s endorsement (they had stayed there before on a previous visit to Hogsback) we had booked Bredon Cottage, on the Applegarth Estate. Cosy and homely, our accommodation was equal parts immaculate and welcoming. Our lovely hosts had left a bottle of red wine for our arrival and put chocolates on the pillows. We were just short a holiday dog or two to complete the picture.

Being Tim and Wendy’s anniversary, it was a shoe-in to have dinner at The Edge, where they had been married. And their wedded bliss was perfectly paired with our dinner bliss over the oxtail-stuffed spuds and magnificent Impala shank.

With a fridge full of champers (from our ‘grocery’ shop en route) and a fireplace beckoning from our lounge, we eagerly made our way back to our cottage to enjoy our first evening in front of the fireplace, entertaining ourselves with the generous selection of retro CDs in our host’s collection.

Late November and mid-summer or not, we woke to a chilly morning, with the mist rolling lazily through the valley view from our terrace. Warm enough in the sunny spots, we basked and admired the panorama as the morning became the midday.

The only thing we’d scheduled to achieve on Friday, being pre-raceday, was to take a walk to find The Big Tree, a Hogsback sight-seeing staple which had eluded Tim and Wendy on their previous trips. Consulting a map, it seemed an easy ask with a trail that led from the Hogsback main road (which was the dirt road at the end of our driveway).

Wanting to preserve our legs, we drove to the start of the trail and then followed the existing signage to our destination. It was a taste of what lay ahead for us as the trail was a bit muddy from the cold and wet weather and we did a fair amount of slip-sliding along the path to get to the 800 year old, 36 metre high tree.

Feeling we’d achieved enough for one day, we returned to our cottage to relax for a while until heading out for the evening market at The Edge.

Being cool but clear, we went out early, with time to do the twists and turns of the Labyrinth and then stare out into the sunset at the edge of the edge with the breathtaking mountains and valleys.

The ‘market’, it turns out, was 4 trestle tables that sold baked goods, hot chocolate, gluhwein and such, so besides buying some fudge, we were quite commercially safe. And given the opportunity to try The Edge’s pizzas, which had been teasing us with the aroma of golden crisping cheese hanging in the air. Perfect carbo-loading for the sweaty Saturday that was to follow.

SATURDAY

Tim had signed up for the 38km trail run, which was way beyond our interest or ambition. He was due to start running at 8 so Chris drove him down while Wendy and I were only rousing, with plenty of time for our very-civilised 8am start.

Soon enough though, we were lined up at the start; a very respectably socially-distanced collection of milling athletes rather than the anxious cluster that is normally champing for the gun to go off.

There really was no point in hurrying though. With the slippery course that started winding steeply downhill along the narrow and muddy trail we had taken the day before to get to The Big Tree, along rickety bridges and tip-toeing on mossy stones in trickling streams, and up the mirror-image on the other side… It was a cautious and careful balancing act more than an attempt to set any records.

Breaking out of the canopy of trees on the other side, we were welcomed by what looked like an easy dusty downhill. It didn’t last long though and that downhill was matched by a very long and very steep uphill that had us puffing and panting and moving at hiking pace rather than a trail run race. The views were spectacular though and it was easy to see why this underrated race is so appreciated and evangelised by the runners who have completed it.

The last few kilometres were a bit more of a classic trail run experience, with a slightly quicker pace along paths with matted leaves that allowed for better grip and a collection of obstacles in the path that were more of a workout than a life threat.

Arriving at the finish line, we patted ourselves on the back for a job well done, coming in at 75th and 76th, which for us is a great achievement being first-time trail runners.

The event sponsors, Merrell trail running gear, did a great job of welcoming everyone as they came in, and giving out loads of spot prizes so almost everyone got something. As they said, with formal prize-givings being forbidden under Covid restriction they had had to be a bit more creative and had actually spread the sponsorship more evenly across all the participants. Having little to compare to, the smaller field of runners suited our novice skills better and we would have had a far more pressured experience if we’d had runners pushing to get past on the narrow paths.

Tim came in several hours later, sweaty, sunburnt and caked in mud. The longer trail had included a lot more challenging bits than ours – and Tim had stopped to enjoy a dip in a waterfall pond along the way. The runners in the longer races have to carry backpacks with thermal blankets, windbreakers, food and water and all sorts of other things in case they get injured and need to sustain themselves. I can’t imagine I’d have enjoyed having to do more than double the distance AND lugging a backpack!

We made our way home with intentions of refreshing ourselves and then heading out for dinner, but our spectacular view of Hogsback was so idyllic and the fireplace beckoning so we stayed home instead, clearing out the last of our supplies and recounting snippets of the epic day we’d had.

Asia, Japan

Travelogue RWC 2019: Fuji

FUJIYOSHIDA

01-04 October 2019

We flew in from Jeju Island in South Korea to meet up with our friends from home, Michele and Ian, with whom we’d be spending our last few days in Japan.

Having not visited Fuji on our previous trip to Japan in 2015, it was an easy choice to get out of the rush of the big cities for a breather for our friends after a week in Tokyo and for some slower movements for us after a whirlwind trip.

By the time our plane landed, our friends had already done the admin for our rental car, so we jumped on the rental company’s shuttle to go and collect our vehicle.

We had been quite considerably upgraded from a Mazda 5 to a Toyota, which was a very luxurious people carrier with all sorts of bells and whistles, like a neon interior light that ran around the edge of the roof and the colour of which could be changed using the panel on the roof. Who know what else that panel controlled – all the instructions were in Japanese – and we were too cautious to press and prod randomly quite yet.

It took about 2 and a half hours to get to our Airbnb rental (motorway all the way it was an easy drive but with a speed limit of 100kph it was slower going than we’re used to).

Our host, Tom, was there to meet us and delivered a painstaking hour-long tour that explained every knob and button in the house… And there were hundreds of them since the house had every possible modcon and accessory, including electric windows, jet bath, an automated toilet and a sound system that could permanently damage your ears if you cranked it to full potential!

With lots of nodding and subtle hunting, we managed to marginally expedite the tour, which concluded with a Google Earth virtual tour of the neighbourhood since we’d asked where we could get fed and watered.

Our house, although not situated in the country as we’d imagined it would be, was in a very convenient location, walking distance from a few blocks of wall-to-wall entertainment.

We headed out on foot, crossed the tracks and scanned a few of the narrow streets looking for something of interest.

We found a tiny little bar, attracted by the signage outside that broadcast its English menu and English staff acting as voluntary tour guides that were enthusiastic to share info about the area, Japanese culture etc.

We entered to find 8 stools facing the barman, who had an assortment of liquors displayed on the shelf behind him. There was a Western couple on the two far right seats and two Japanese gents on the two far left ones, leaving four in the middle for us. Perfect.

We settled in, ordered Japanese beers and sake, and tuned into the conversation the barman was having with the couple on the right (from Manchester), giving them the lowdown on what there was to do and see in the area.

Our barman, Don, was from California and had been called to Japan on short notice 3 years earlier with the opportunity to be an emergency substitute English teacher; loved the experience and wanted to stay on so partnered with a local to open this bar. He had great advice on what we could do to keep ourselves entertained.

Don ordered us pizzas from the place across the road and, with Christian playing DJ, we spent several hours in our lovely cosy pub, bonding with the stream of Japanese people that floated in and out for a stop on their pub crawl.

When it was time to close, Don walked us down to an all-night Karaoke bar where we had a nightcap and broke the wailing Japanese ballad medley with a catterwauling group rendition of Yellowcard’s song “Ocean Avenue”.

WEDNESDAY

Needless to say, Wednesday started late. Fortunately there had been a midnight mission to 7Eleven so we had supplies to make lifesaving toasted sarmies for breakfast.

It also took quite a long time for us to get ready and moving, largely fuelled by the fact that our house was so conducive to lounging about and Michele had a load of washing to do, which was an excellent reason to stay put.

Mid-afternoon we were ready to face the world.

Although the famous Chureito Pagoda was walking distance from home, we took the car as we wanted to go and see the lake from there and that was just far enough to nix any ideas of an ambitious walk. Good thing too because there are 398 steps up to the pagoda so we needed to be fresh!

The Pagoda was built in 1958 at a cost of cost 10 million Yen (mostly funded by the citizens) by the mayor of Fujiyoshida to enshrine the citizens who died in the wars since 1868 (Sino-Japanese War, Russo-Japanese War, WW1 and WW2).

It was a 5 storey traditional pagoda that looked familiar, so must be quite iconic and used quite broadly as a Japanese symbol.

Having been pre-prepped by Don, we didn’t hesitate to climb the stairs behind the pagoda to get the archetypical photo with the pagoda on the one side and Mount Fuji on the other.

Then it was on to Lake Kawaguchi, the second biggest of the Fuji Five Lakes, but the most popular and set up for tourists, with hotels and shops around the shoreline and lots of boating, sailing and other watersport activities available for hire.

We sat quietly and admired the water over and ice cold Coke, jokingly trying to convince Ian to hire a panda pedalo.

He was more interested in getting a steak. Having been very sporting about eating the local foods during our trip, which is lots of noodles, rice, soups, veg and quite low meat, we were keen to support that idea.

One of the friends we’d made at Don’s bar the night before was a butcher and had told us the name of his shop, so we hatched a plot to go an surprise him with a visit.

Onishi Butchery was just around the corner from the Lake and within a few minutes we were at the counter ordering Wagyu steaks, bacon and pork skewers. Our friend was delighted to see us and since we had no shared language between us, there was lots of smiling, giggling and photo-taking to fill the gap.

The steaks were delicious! Christian pan-fried them at high heat to sear them and then cut them into strips so we could savour the juicy flavour in small bites.

Don had warned us that everything opened quite late in our town, to tie in with people coming back from work, so he only opened his bar at around 18h30 and, for example, the ramen place opposite him only opened at 20h00, so we knew not to head out too early.

It was easy to keep ourselves entertained at our house, with our big screen online TV and each other for company. Had we not committed to returning to Don for a Japanese beer-tasting, we could happily have stayed home.

But we went. And good thing too because not only had Don gotten in beer stocks especially for us, but he had also lined up a special guest star – a South African friend of his, all the way from Klerksdorp! Ian’s home town!

It was very interesting to hear his experiences, his take on Japanese life and his opinions on what was happening back home based on the news and updates he got.

We stayed probably longer than we should have, sampling 5 different Japanese beers and washing them down with regular tots of sake. Don had specially gotten a bottle of gold tequila to celebrate Ian’s birthday and was intent on making a dent on the bottle, pouring massive quadruple tots at a time for Ian.

It was wonderfully liberating to have a night like the one we had and be able to walk home afterwards. And the fresh air breathed new life into us and we cranked up the house for a bit of afterparty.

THURSDAY

Needless to say, Thursday started late – and with a fry up of the magnificent bacon we’d bought at the butchery.

Using the opportunity for a down day, we enjoyed our house, watching music videos, chatting, taking an afternoon walk around the neighbourhood and buying a vast selection of local meals from the 7Eleven so we could fill in the gaps of what we’d not yet tried in restaurants along the way on our trip.

In the evening we logged into Netflix and watched both seasons of Derry Girls in one big binge watch!

With square eyes we saw in midnight to wish Ian a happy birthday before all toddling off to bed.

We had quite an early start on Friday with our hosts needing us out by 10h00 so that they could prepare the house for the next residents who were to be arriving that afternoon.

It was good discipline for us given that that job for the day was to roadtrip down the coast through Shizuoka to Hamamatsu, which would serve as our homebase for the night while the boys went to rugby and Mich and I entertained ourselves.

By getting out earlier, we were afforded time to make a few stops on the way.

The first was the Aokigahara Forest which is dubbed ‘Suicide Forest’ because of the astounding number of people that have chosen it as the location to meet their maker.

With the forest bedded on lava from a Mount Fuji eruption, the mineral content has impacted that ecosystem such that there are only select plants, insects and animals that thrive there, making the forest quieter, eerier and even more isolated than a normal humanless forest. I imagine that sort of solitude can’t be good for someone who is already teetering on the brink.

More trees, but less sinister, at Miho Pine Grove where legend has it that a fisherman called Hakuryo happened upon a beautiful robe called “Hagoromo”. He was going to take the robe for himself when a maiden appeared and said it was her robe and she needed it to get back home. Begrudgingly the fisherman complied on condition that she show him her celestial Dance, which she did and off she went.

Emerging on the other side of the pine grove, we accessed the beach; black sand and interesting waters that graded from clear to azure to deep blue on the horizon. A picture perfect spot with sea, sand, forest and Mount Fuji (in the distance in the background) all in one shot.

The thinking had been to have a lovely lunch on the beach to drink in the scenery… But there were no restaurants along the beach so we had to make so with a little place one road in from the beach, that had a stellar online rating. The fact that it was an Italian restaurant didn’t deter us at all since a) South Africa was due to play Italy in a World Cup match that evening, b) we could have seafood pasta in keeping with the beach theme and c) it still looked, felt and sounded like a Japanese restaurant.

We were spoilt for service with 3 Japanese ladies clucking over us, desperate for us to have a good time and enjoy their food. They gave us complimentary soup starters and iced coffee for afters and the one older lady got quite enthusiastic about South Africa when she realised – from a lengthy exchange of charades – that we were there for the game. Her warcries and vigorous air-punching had the Frenchies at the table next to us in stitches.

From there it was just over and hour into Hamamatsu.

We had tactically booked a hotel directly across from the station so it would be easy for the boys to jump on a train to and from their rugby match at Ecopa Stadium, half an hour away.

Mich and I waved them off and did a reccie of the neighbourhood and then returned to our hotel for our complimentary welcome drink while game planning our own evening.

A quick Google revealed that we were in the thick of the action and the Rugby World Cup Fanpark seemed a logical place to start.

From there we needed to tick the Irish Bar box, so found ourselves at the Lord Nelson, where we were fortunate to be seated next to an American Brit who had been raised in Yokohama and spent a year in, of all places, Polokwane! He had a whole new perspective to add and, having lived in Hamamatsu for a few months, was very helpful in directing the rest of our evening.

We took his advice based on the food recommendation, knowing that the boys would be starving after the match and having not eaten since lunch. They were. And were very grateful that we’d already ordered an assortment of things – deep fried camembert, kettle fried potato crisps and a roast beef bowl – so the food came very quickly.

Our pub crawl took a turn for the worst after that though when we got stuck in our second pub, where we integrated with a very cosmopolitan cornerful of people and things went south very quickly, including Christian swapping shirts with a very chatty Japanese chap!

Asia, South Korea

Travelogue RWC 2019: Jeju

JEJU

29 September – 01 October 2019

After having very nearly almost missed our flight from Busan, we were relieved to touch down on the runway in Jeju for the next leg of our trip.

Our hotel, a Ramada by Wyndham, was in the town centre of Jeju City, so it was an easy bus ride to get there. We only had large-note paper money so feared being turned away but the bus driver, taking pity on our bedraggled selves and big cases, waved us onto the bus for free instead. The wheel turned though when we got off a stop too early and had to haul ass uphill -and in the drizzling rain that had just started – to get to the Ramada sign that we could see in the distance but that seemed to not get any closer.

Having had quite a heavy weekend and with our East Coast tour starting early the next morning, we decided to play it safe with a tame dinner in our neck of the woods.

It was still lightly drizzling, which we hoped would lift for the next day, but which we knew better than to rely on the weather report for a forecast after the completely random predictions from the weekend in Busan that had seen 99% chance of rain be dry as a bone and 44% be the downpour that had come out of nowhere and drenched us.

Good fortune was on our side though and we awoke to blue skies. Well, patchy blue skies, but that would do.

We met our tour guide, Jin, who ran us through the order of events for the day, predicting rain for 15h00 and reassuring us that we’d be done with the outdoorsy stuff by then so it wouldn’t interrupt play for us.

Jin gave us a rundown on Jeju while we drove out of the city.

Geologically, Jeju Island was a shield volcano, first erupting 1.8 million years ago and continuing on and off until recent times. It was bigger than most think before they visit; 3 times the size of Seoul and almost 3 times the size of Singapore, so ideally tourists need 3 or 4 days to see the whole island.

There are 700,000 people living on Jeju and this number was growing with people coming to find a more balanced life than in the cities, like Jin himself who had moved down from Seoul. He spoke fondly of the life and culture on the island, proud that it had no beggars, no thieves and no gates. Jin called it a “cousin’s culture”, where everyone was proud of their heritage, worked to preserve it and looked out for their people – and he said it could be tough for outsiders such as himself to break into such a tight circle.

Jeju was also a self-governing province so visa-free for over 180 countries, saving the red tape for countries they term as dangerous, like Afghanistan. Otherwise they welcomed foreigners and if those foreigners purchased property for $500k or more they would get a permanent resident visa. The clearly progressive goverment was also pushing electric cars to try reduce pollution, so they subsidised up to 50% of the car’s purchase price to encourage more environmentally friendly road usage.

By this point in the story we had arrived at Manjanggul Cave, a volcanic lava tube that is 7km long, although the accessible bit is only a kilometre. Expecting it to be a narrow tunnel, it was a surprise when we took the steps underground to discover a massive cave.

The walkway had subtle lighting guiding the way, but it was still very dark because if they lit it too much then the moss would grow and ruin the cave, and the small lights could only brighten so much of the caves that were easily 3 or 4 metres wide and 5 or 6 metres high in mostly places, but also ballooned into much bigger caves periodically.

The info boards explained in layman’s terms why and how the caves and passages were formed so it was very interesting, even with no geological knowledge at all – and we could know what we were looking at with the likes of the 7.6m high lava column (formed when lava pours down from the ceiling and congeals; Jeju’s was the highest in the world) and Turtle Rock (a dried lava shelf that happens to be exactly the same shape as Jeju Island).

The caves were very cold (between 10 and 15 degrees) and dank, with water dropping from the ceiling so as much as it was a great experience, it was an equally great experience to resurface.

Jin told us that there had been citizens that had hidden in the caves during the genocide of the Jeju Uprising directly preceding the Korean War in 1948, where 10% of the population was killed in the process of trying the quash the rebels. I can’t imagine how awful that must have been!

The next excursion was a visit to the Jeju Gimnyeong Maze Park. We were provided a map and challenged to get to the bell in the centre. Constructed with over 2200 aromatic, green and very samey-samey Leyland Cypress trees, it was a fun challenge to twist and turn through the narrow leafy passages to complete the task.

Jin then took us to Woljeongri beach for a coffee stop to relax and admire the azure ocean and strip of golden sand beach. Fortunately, the weather had held so we were able to walk up and down the beach. With its fringe of shops and restaurants and idyllic waters, it was easy to see how this was described as a perfect holiday resort town.

Lunch was the next exercise and we were signed up to try the pork for which Jeju is famous; tender rashers marinated and served in a spicy basting. Jeju, however, was also infamous for another pork story, where old traditional houses used to use pigs as their sanitation systems. Outdoor toilets channelled the waste to adjacent pig pens, where the pigs would eat the matter and then of course later be eaten themselves. Quite efficient. But also very gross.

Rested and refuelled, we headed to Seongsan Ilchulbong for our hike up the crater. As a Tuff Cone Hydro volcano formed by the ocean about 5-7 thousand years ago and detached from the mainland, what has evolved and remains today was a perfect dormant crater easily accessible from the island which, after climbing the 553 stone steps to get to the top, allows spectacular panoramic views of the island, neighbouring Udo island and the ocean. Completely worth the effort.

At the bottom of the crater was a cove where the Haenyeo lady divers can be seen. These (mostly old) ladies are known for diving for conches and abalones without any equipment. They sell their hauls and supply the restaurant in the cove, which I suspect must be some of the freshest seafood you’ll ever have the pleasure of eating.

Hot and sticky from our walk, we were surprised with a bonus stop that hadn’t been described on the itinerary; a lesson in aromatherapy massage.

We were led through very pretty and perfectly manicured gardens to a very Zen looking and sounding room which had rows and rows of golden basins sunk into the floor. Jin sat us down in an area facing a wall of glass window overlooking the gardens.

We were told to put our feet into the basins which were half-filled with scorching hot water. We could add a little cold, but were told to try and tolerate as hot as possible.

The water already had rosemary drops in it (so it smelt delicious since I only associate rosemary with roast chicken) and Jin squeezed in some rose and peppermint oils. The aroma off the hot water was heavenly!

Jin guided us through a series of breathing exercises, through nose-only first then deep breaths through mouth only, to use the scents to open up sinuses and chest. Then we were given salts to use to scrub feet, lower legs and then hands, ending off with a pat dry and rubbing rosemary moisturising oils into the bits we’d just exfoliated, while Jin drizzled a few drops of peppermint and rosemary oil on the top of our shoulders and back of the neck.

With feet glowing and shoulders buzzing, it seemed a shame to have to put socks and shoes back on to return to the bus pausing for commemorative photos in the pretty gardens en route.

Our last stop for the afternoon was the small village of traditional Jeju style houses. In an effort to preserve the heritage, the goverment pays for the repair of the houses so there are still people living in them to provide a living museum of sorts.

We saw the infamous pig-cleaning toilet setup (!!) and Jin showed us other adaptions that the Jeju people have had to make to adapt to their environment, eg with the island being very windy, they have to tie the thatched roof down with rope. Bearing in mind Jeju was expecting its 6th typhoon for the year on Wednesday (no doubt “44% chance of…”), the government must have been shelling out pretty consistently to keep repairing these relatively fragile constructions, so good on them for their continued commitment.

With the tour done and so much seen, we were herded to the bus to try and get ahead of the dreaded rush hour traffic on our return to town. The driver put foot to get us there, as the rain started. Jin’s prediction had been off by a couple of hours, lucky for us.

It was tough choice to decide what to have for our last supper in South Korea, but we settled on Chicken & Beer as a sure winner. We consulted Google Maps and got to a very traditional (and by traditional I mean ‘no English menu’) restaurant. It took some charades and a translator app for us to muddle and order through, but we got the Soju and Cass right away so there was some wriggle room with the rest.

We needn’t have feared; we were served a massive platter of chicken – some crumbed and deep fried and some in a sticky sweet chilli sauce – with all sorts of side dishes. The kind of feast you need to just dive into sans reservations and then wet-wipe yourself back to presentable afterwards. Which we did.

Since the rain had started coming down harder while we were eating, we were compelled to get another bottle of Soju to wait out the storm and soak in our last night.

Asia, South Korea

Travelogue RWC 2019: Busan

BUSAN

27-29 September 2019

We very nearly really didn’t get to Busan. First we got to the subway station in Seoul,  where we knew that tickets are a cash-only sale and we knew we didn’t have enough cash, but we assumed there would be a cash machine there.

There was not.

No mind, we took the escalators back up to ground level and went into our trusty 7Eleven, but the ATM didn’t accept VISA cards (?!) so we went into the shopping mall that occupied the first few floors below the hotel we’d been staying in. No ATM machine.

So we split up, me with the suitcases at the top of the subway station escalators so that Christian could move quickly to find the nearest cash machine.

Well, I still don’t really know where it was because on his return Christian was beyond reasonable conversation, having had a frustrating experience finding an English- and Visa-friendly ATM.

But he had. And we were on our way again.

Confidently we punched in Incheon International Airport Terminal 2 – reasoning that we’d landed at Terminal 1 on our flight in from Japan, so 2 was likely to be Domestic – and again we were on our merry way.

It was only when the train pulled up at Gimpo Airport (another airport entirely, that hadn’t occurred to us at all) a few stops later that we even questioned if we were going to the right airport.

With the train doors opening at Gimpo we scrambled to find the plastic sleeve with all our booking info and there it was “Departure: Seoul (Gimpo)”. We’d spotted it in the nick of time so we hurtled toward the train door to get out at this correct station.

Thank heavens both airports are on the same subway line or we’d have found out too late and missed our flight!

Our hosts in Busan, Ji and Neo, had at least had the foresight to prepare us for what to expect and how to get to them, so it was simple to exit the Arrivals Hall and find the Limousine Bus office to get our tickets to the Bexco stop, where we’d arranged to meet them.

With 10 minutes in hand, there was just enough time to grab a quick sarmie from the 7Eleven for padkos on the bus.

Pulling into Busan, we were met with terrible traffic. But it was just after 17h00 on a Friday evening so it was probably to be expected wherever you were in the world.

We had no sooner got all our selves and our bags off the bus than we heard a hooter and presto! There were our friends come to meet us!

Ji was driving but Neo jumped out and loaded our things and us into their people carrier. There were 3 juniors in the back, 2 of whom we’d only met when they were babies (and were now tweens) and a new baby (already 8 years old) that we’d never met.

There was much excitement as we shared stories of where we’d been and what we’d been doing for the almost 10 years since we’d last seen each other – but besides the physical human evidence that time had passed, it felt like no time had passed between us at all. Good friends just pick up where they’ve left off.

We were staying at a B&B around the corner from the Binedell clan, so as not to get underfoot with the existing schedules that were already being relaxed and stretched for our benefit. First stop was thus logically to drop off our bags so that the admin was done and we could relax and go with the flow for the rest of the evening.

When it had come time to book, the B&B had already been quite full with a group of athletes having block booked all the suites with Western beds so we were allocated a Korean bed room.

On check-in we discovered that this meant a laminate square room with stack of thin mattresses and pillows in the corner, a washing machine fitted onto the wall of the room (genius) and leaving shoes at the door so as to only be barefoot in the living / sleeping space. We’re always all for trying the local things, so were delighted with our digs for the weekend.

Back in the car we climbed the hill with its twists and turns to get to the Binedell’s apartment block. Completely converse to our suburban living at home, their suburb was a collection of high rise blocks with spacious family living apartments. Being on the bottom floor, they had the best of the garden view and none of the admin of maintaining it.

We settled around the dining room table – having barely taken a breath between stories since the meeting at the bus stop – and enjoyed a welcome drink, Neo’s favourite Somaek which is a mix of Soju (South Korea’s speciality, a clear, colourless distilled liquor) and beer. Soju is a bit sweet so gives the beer a good edge.

We had a few of those, while Ji made some dumplings for nibbles and we chatted about anything and everything. We caught up on shared friends – now spread all over the planet – reminisced about old times, reviewed the present and guessed at the future, and learnt a lot about Korean culture and food.

For dinner we took a walk down to a local restaurant where we feasted Korean barbecue style. Platters of thinly sliced and rolled raw meat (we had beef and pork) were delivered to the table to be self-cooked on the gas skillet bedded in the middle of the table, and there was a buffet of sides to either also cook on the grill or add to the juicy meaty bits raw for crunch. And of course rice.

It was a wonderfully social way to eat with the best of both in that the first bites are ready in minutes and the rest of the eating process could be drawn out over a couple of hours, to allow lots of conversation and laughs and more drinks and more laughs.

We’d been seated at a long table at the end of the restaurant and collapsible doors had been drawn to give us a private dining room, but there kids were out of sight as soon as they’d eaten, preferring to entertain themselves in the lounge rather than have their style cramped by us old people.

The walk home to the Binedell’s apartment was welcome, as it is always great to get some fresh air and the blood flowing to move dinner and clear the head.

And a very good tactical move too, to have a pause before we got home for nightcaps and then headed out again for Round 2.

As Neo had told us, the South Korean night out generally has a few stops, eating and drinking along the way. We had technically had 2 stops already with the welcome drinks and dinner, so were compelled by custom to have a nightcap (or 2). Ji had volunteered to be on kid-watch duty so Neo was tasked with accompanying us to our neck of the woods, where there were several night spots – mostly 24 hours – right behind our B&B.

We got ourselves a booth in a cosy little restaurant/bar where most tables were still eating even though it was well past midnight, and ordered a jug of beer.

Fortunately Neo let us off the Soju on this last episode but nonetheless, the beer was enough to end play for the day.

We walked back to our B&B and giggled as we figured out our room and made up our beds. When I initially lay down I thought the mattress was bloody uncomfortable… Until I discovered that Christian had laid them upside down so the discomfort was from the sticky little bubbles that are supposed to grip the floor and were now gripping my sweaty flesh.

More giggles and a remake later, we were asleep immediately.

Neo had said that Soju is a kind drink on the next morning and I hadn’t believed him… Until I woke up nine hours later, fresh as a daisy. Not sure if it’s the Korean bed or the Soju that should get the credit, but I was super grateful.

SATURDATY

Christian was a bit more the worse for wear, but it didn’t last for long, thanks to a great shower, doorstop of toast and glass of Coke in the B&B’s kitchen… And Neo (with Xuri, the littlest, in tow) arriving with ‘regmaker’ beers!

We’d made the arrangements the previous night, than since Ji had to fetch and carry kids to Saturday morning school commitments, Neo was going to make his way to us and we would then head towards the beach and meet Ji and the kids somewhere there.

It took us so long to get ourselves together though, that we ended up just sitting on the deck outside the CU convenience store downstairs and waiting for Ji to pick us up.

The whole party reunited, we drove to Haeundae Beach. The traffic was again something terrible and by the time we arrived, the clouds had rolled in and it was raining. Not ideal beach weather at all.

We diverted to the food stalls market and started nibbling inside a seafood stall where I finally got to try the snack we’d seen everywhere but didn’t know what it was. It looked like a skewered wavy length of stiff dough and seemed to be served in a cup of something we’d assumed to be dipping sauce. Turned out that it was called Eomukgok and it was actually ground and compacted fish and the stuff in the cup was a hearty fishy broth. Really delicious. And a great accompaniment to the selection of tempura that complemented the spongy fish with battered crunchiness.

We’d hoped our snacking would see us through the rain but, alas, as we made our way down the food stall alley the rain got worse not better and by the time we circled back to the beach itself for our pictures, it was bucketing down and we got soaked!

Rationalising that we were actually more interested in each other’s company than braving the elements for the view, we retreated back to the Binedell’s apartment, stopping for a few supplies en route.

It was a great decision. The kids could get on with what they wanted to do, we could yack and yack, Neo could pour a steady stream of drinks, Ji sorted an endless flow of nibbles and by the time it came to nachos (middle child Xander’s request), I was even grabbing a session in Ji’s full body massage chair! We had had a brilliant evening, totally chilled and doing what we do best; making memories with good mates.

With intentions of an earlier start to make the most of what we hoped to be a sunny Sunday, we maintained better decorum and decided to forego the Last Rounds pub crawl of the previous night and grabbed a taxi back to the B&B at around midnight.

SUNDAY

We awoke on Sunday morning to a patchy sky that was encouragingly blue in places and decided to back optimism, wear shorts and embark on the tourist trail we’d originally intended for the weekend.

Ji, Neo and Xuri fetched us and we started with a visit to Yonggungsa Temple.

The rain from the previous day could still be felt in the air and it was hot and humid. But it wasn’t raining, so we counted our blessings (in an appropriate location to be doing so).

The walk to the temple runs through a food market and we recognised some of the things from the day before, but discovered some all-new marvels that took some explaining too.

The temple itself was old and beautiful, set right on shoreline but on the rock cliffs so with magnificent views of the ocean below. Signage said that this was the most beautiful temple in South Korea and with limited comparisons and the spectacular setting, it was hard to argue with that.

On the way out I stopped in the food market to get a snack for us. I choose a flat octopus which the lady quickly heated up on a flat grill, like a toasted sandwich press and chopped into slices. It was delicious!

Continuing the eating tour, we drove to Songjeong Beach where Neo ordered Korokke while we admired the beach and then we had our senses delighted with deep fried crab croquettes.

We drove down the coast past Haeundae Beach that we’d visited the day before and on to Gwangalli Beach, where we parked the car and went for actual lunch.

We ticked off another new meal box with Korean Fried Chicken (KFC); mountains of crunchy chicken wings, sticky chicken pieces and tender juicy breaded chicken pieces that looked like they came from a monster bird!

We left lunch a little later than we should have and instead of being able to enjoy our drive across the Gwangan Bridge, we had already started to worry a bit about missing our bus to the airport. Our fate was sealed when we ran into more traffic and we resigned ourselves to the fact that we’d missed the 15h17 bus, and that we would catch the next one at 15h47, which would be very very tight for our 17h05 flight, especially bearing in mind the bus would have to beat the same traffic to get there.

Then the bus was late.

Arriving close to 14h00, it was a nailbiter all the way to the airport, with Ji madly researching on her phone and calling the airline to say the bus had been late, and sending us maps of the terminal so that we knew what to expect when we got there.

Our hearts sank as we watched the big red digital clock numbers at the front of the bus tick over. 16h20… 16h30… 16h40… The airline website had said gates close 20 minutes before the flight so when 16h45 ticked past, we’d all but lost hope.

But in a last little burst for freedom, the bus seemed to pop out of the confines of the city and made up incredible distance in the last few minutes.

At 16h49 the bus pulled up in front of the terminal. By the time it came to a complete stop, I was pressed against the doors, passports in hand.

I sprinted across the airport and up to the check-in desk, thrusting our passports at the lady, wordlessly panting. She reviewed the passports, typed something into her terminal and asked me where my other passenger and bags were.

Miraculously, Christian caught up with me just then, with our suitcases. The lady checked us in and told us it was too late to check the baggage so we’d have to take it with us.

She escorted us as we three dashed at madman’s pace across the terminal and all the way to the boarding gate to ensure we got on the plane.

All was indeed well that ended well and we were off to Jeju.

What an excellent weekend it had been in Busan and thanks to the rainy weather on Saturday, we still had a full day’s unused itinerary to use as an excuse to come back and visit our lovely hosts again!

on the move