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South Africa is beautiful… Stunningly beautiful. And fun… Dangerously fun. And so full of adventure and adrenaline that we made the last minute decision to extend our time there by two weeks and travel from Cape Town up through the Western Cape, the Garden Route and the Wild Coast to Durban via the hop on-hop off backpacker Baz Bus (www.bazbus.com — an adventure in itself).

We first arrived in Johannesburg from Dar Es Salaam, but unfortunately we didn’t have much time to explore Jo’burg, other than a giant mall (South Africans apparently LOVE malls) and a crazy b-boy bar called Groove Cafe — thanks to the crew at Diamond Diggers backpackers and their successful scheming to lure our tired frames out for a night on the town. We would have loved to more discover more of this fascinating and slightly frightening city, especially by visiting the apartheid museum and Soweto, South Africa’s most famous township. Townships are sprawling, underdeveloped shack settlements on the outskirts of most urban areas which were set up and reserved exclusively for non-whites during the apartheid era (and, sadly, are still home to huge percentages of the black population). Soweto is the site of some of the most relevant and impactful protests against apartheid, particularly the 1976 Soweto Uprising, in which thousands of students and other citizens protested the government’s policy for all schools to provide education in Afrikaans (the language of the Dutch settlers who were the main architects of apartheid) rather than in English. Several hundred people were killed during the Soweto Uprising.

Traditionally townships were notoriously crime-ridden but today, some townships like Soweto and others are rapidly developing due in part to enterprising locals who cater to the tourism trade. We had planned to return to Johannesburg for a day or two at the tail end of our South African tour, but ultimately couldn’t pull ourselves away from the sunny beaches of Durban and the South Coast (see below).

From Johannesburg we took the fancy schmancy Premier Classe train overnight to Cape Town to meet up with our friend and colleague Rossie. We arrived in Cape Town a night before him, checked into our pre-reserved suite at the ultra-luxurious Radisson Blu Waterfront and were surprised with a welcome bottle of champagne (thanks Rossie!). We got the feeling that the prim hotel staff was less than excited and possibly slightly disgusted by our dirty, overstuffed backpacks in the pristine marble lobby of their grand hotel… and after two and a half months in rural East Africa we were definitely not accustomed to plush bathrobes and balconies with views of the ocean… However, the staff turned a blind eye and we quickly acclimated to the lifestyle by popping the champagne, donning the bathrobes, emptying the mini-bar, ordering room service and having ourselves a proper “welcome back to civilization” party. For the next week we were wined, dined, pampered and spoiled.

Rossie, Heather and I indulged in numerous spa treatments and dips in the “oxygen pool”, which allegedly has the same health benefits as a full eight hours of sleep (we’re skeptical). We did some mountain biking and winery-hopping in Stellenbosch, where the Pinotage and Cape Blends may or may not have contributed to a nasty road spill by Heather (she’s still recovering from the bruises). We had delicious meals at several of the region’s best restaurants, including mouth-watering and belly-expanding short ribs with vanilla risotto in an espresso reduction (GAH) at our favorite local place, Savoy Cabbage (www.savoycabbage.co.za). We also took in the sunset over fruity cocktails in gorgeous Camps Bay and did a brisk climb up Table Mountain, where at the peak the chilly fog and thick white clouds rolled in so quickly it was surreal.

… And the biggest adventure of all: we went shark cage diving. SHARK CAGE DIVING. We were submerged in a cage. In the freezing cold ocean. In SHARK ALLEY. To look into the eyes of Great White sharks. Voluntarily.

Heather and I were both a little terrified (okay, ridiculously terrified) of being face to face with Great Whites but somehow this trip has galvanized our guts. We chose to dive with Brian McFarlane’s enterprise in Gansbaai (www.sharkcagediving.net). Brian is an insightful and funny former commercial fisherman who has caught over 30 Great Whites, some weighing more than a ton (he now regrets his actions and devotes his time to educating people about these crazy beasts). Great White sharks are the world’s largest predatory fish and can grow to over 20 feet in length but as it turns out… cue scary music… big toothy sharks… not really as terrifying as we expected. More than anything, they are beautiful, powerful, graceful creatures. They command respect. Sure they have really big jaws and a mouthful of REALLY sharp, serrated teeth, but when you’re underwater with them you’re shaking in your boots mostly because the water is frigid and not because Jaws was anything like reality. We saw over 25 sharks, one of which clamped its enormous incisors onto the bars of the cage frighteningly close to my precious fingertips — the one time I truly panicked. Ultimately we survived unscathed, we bought the DVD (obviously) and the experience was an amazing one that none of us will ever forget.

After shark cage diving we drove to Hermanus to watch the Southern Right whales playing in Walker Bay. Every year around July, hundreds of the whales arrive in Hermanus to breed. From July through October you can view dozens of them at a time frolicking in the water near the shore and we were enthralled by them for hours while enjoying a bottle of wine in the sunshine at a little bayside cafe. Afterward we bid Rossie (our very gracious host) farewell, checked into Hermanus Backpackers and quickly got back to the dirty backpacker grind. We played Apples to Apples into the night with a few fellow travelers and the cute bartenders Barry and Shaun in the comfy little bar, helped completely empty the drinks fridge, and woke up the next morning bleary-eyed and excited to begin our journey up the coast.

Our first stop was an overnight stay in Wilderness, a pretty, leafy village on the Garden Route. At Fairy Knowe backpackers lodge we took it easy, enjoyed a full night’s sleep and the next morning did a quiet little hike through the dense forest to a trickling waterfall. We rented bikes, explored the town, got soaked in a torrential downpour and just narrowly caught the Baz Bus before it pulled away and then a few hours later… we arrived in Jeffrey’s Bay. Oh my goodness, Jeffrey’s Bay. My head hurts just thinking about the 24 hour party known as Island Vibe, J-Bay’s most popular backpackers hostel and the place we chose to rest (or not) our weary heads for a night… which turned into two nights… which almost turned into three nights before we came to our senses and moved on.

Jeffrey’s Bay apparently has one of the best right hand point breaks in the world. Not that we would know because we were way more interested in the cold beers and hottie surfers in the Island Vibe bar than in the waves. One of our mutual goals on this trip is to learn to surf. However, for the first 24 hours we were in Jeffrey’s Bay the weather was cold and rainy and the ocean was freezing and based on our aforementioned shark cage experience, there was no part of us that wanted to don a wet suit and shiver our way through a surf lesson. So instead we planted our butts firmly on a couple of bar stools and made friends with Kim, the curly-haired Brazilian surfer running the bar (hi Kim!). At some point after a few Black Labels and shots of Jagermeister and chats with the multitudes of travelers who had recently jumped 216 meters (approximately 650 feet) off the Bloukrans Bridge — the world’s highest bungee jump — we found ourselves full of courage and curiosity and big talk. Enough so that we canceled our next Baz Bus segment, booked another night at Island Vibe and paid a 350 Rand deposit for a car to take us the next morning to the bridge. More beers (to celebrate!), more shots (more celebrating!) and then (apparently this is a common occurrence), the bartenders were naked behind the bar. That was our cue to go to bed (not, however, before we, along with the muscle-y German guy we endearingly nicknamed “Boobs”, entertained the crowd with our delightfully off-key rendition of Toto’s Africa).

The next morning before we knew what was happening we were in a car traveling two hours back on the highway to Tsitsikamma. Face Adrenalin (www.faceadrenalin.com) runs the bungee enterprise and their tagline is “Fear is momentary, regret is forever”. Similar to the motto we’ve been attempting to live by during our time in Africa (thanks to a very wise woman named Cindra): “When in Africa, if you’re not sure, say yes”. So we said yes (with slightly less gumption than we had the night before), paid for our jumps, got harnessed up and were led across a metal mesh walkway suspended beneath the huge concrete bridge span. I was excited, bouncing my way across, when I noticed the look of sheer panic in Heather’s eyes. Turns out she is absolutely petrified of heights. PETRIFIED. She had to be coached across the bridge, her white knuckles constantly grasping the railing, and she refused to look down. With each shaky step it became more obvious to me that my mission may become a solo one, but surprisingly she still seemed intent to jump. On the other hand, I’m pretty sure her fear intensified my resolve. We reached the landing and Heather allowed the bungee cord to be attached to her ankles while I sat wrapped in a blanket waiting my turn. She seemed okay at first but quickly deteriorated as she was lifted to the edge. We’d heard that a jumper may be helped (i.e. thrown) off the bridge in case of hesitation, but the guys whose necks Heather had in death grips only halfheartedly attempted to convince her that she wanted to let go, aware that she was genuinely scared to death. After about 20 minutes of cursing and trembling through panic-stricken tears she made the executive (and probably smart) decision not to jump.

Then it was my turn. After watching Heather falter at the edge, I knew not to hesitate or think too much about what I was about to do or even look down. Instead, as soon as I was hooked up and lifted to the edge, I put my arms out, smiled for the camera, and “5,4,3,2,1… Bungee!!!”… I swan dove my ass 650 feet off the Bloukrans Bridge. Wheeeeeeeeee! The free fall lasts about five seconds and it is the most amazing feeling ever. It’s nothing like the stomach-in-throat discomfort of a roller coaster, but rather it’s an utterly peaceful feeling of floating — everything seemed to move in slow motion. The only slightly awkward part was after the jump, hanging stationary at the bottom of the cord, staring at the gorge walls, and wondering when (and if) the safety guy was coming to hoist me up. As soon as he did, I wanted to go again. Of course I bought the DVD, the CD of photos and a t-shirt. Not sure anyone would believe me otherwise.

More celebrating (notice a pattern?)… then again we boarded the Baz Bus. This time our destination was Coffee Bay, a tiny village on the Wild Coast (in a region known as the Transkei). We spent two nights camping at Sugarloaf Backpackers (where the house chef, Rocco, prepared some of the best food we’ve had in Africa). The Transkei, or homelands, was an independent territory set up by the government for people of the Xhosa ethnicity and given nominal autonomy in 1963 in accordance with South Africa’s apartheid policy of separate development. Until Nelson Mandela’s election and the end of apartheid the Transkei existed as an internationally unrecognised, diplomatically isolated, politically unstable de facto one-party state (thanks Wikipedia!). In 1994 South Africa reincorporated the homelands into South Africa and today it remains a sparsely habited and very poor, though breathtakingly beautiful, region.

Coffee Bay is actually one of the larger towns on the Wild Coast and is situated on a series of rolling hills overlooking a gorgeous blue bay. The weather is consistently sunny and warm and the waves are apparently very good (but again, sadly, our surfing mission was not accomplished). Most of the homes in Coffee Bay, as in all of the Transkei, are one-room circular dwellings painted a bright turquoise that matches the sea (due to the use of a specific type of limestone paint). We took a tour of the area with a local named Silas, who took us to his home, introduced us to his family, showed us around his village, and even treated us to some homemade African beer at a neighborhood shebeen (or illegal bar). We were introduced by Silas’s sister-in-law to some of the skills essential for African women of marrying age, including grinding dried maize using two heavy stones, balancing buckets of water on our heads and playing a traditional primitive string instrument. Turns out, surprise, surprise, we are not very qualified for the position of subservient African wife and, hence, not worth many cows (the customary African dowry).

After Coffee Bay our last stop was Durban, the third largest city in South Africa and home to Trevor, one of the South African skippers we met in the Usumbara Mountains of Tanzania. Graciously, Trevor had offered to serve as our tour guide and personal chauffeur during our stay in his hometown (hi Trevor!). The beaches in and around Durban are phenomenal and though our host had offered to give us personal surf lessons, we ultimately failed for the third time due in part to crap waves and even crappier hangovers. We did, however, visit a few local bars, play a bunch of cards, eat very spicy Durban curry (mmm…) and watch scary movies and drink wine on Trevor’s couch, which was a very welcome break from being constantly on the move. We briefly visited the largest mall in the Southern Hemisphere (South Africans… Malls… I’ll never understand). And we fell in love with bunny chow, the delicious (and adorably named) local takeaway delicacy, which is a hollowed-out loaf of bread filled with curry and eaten without utensils. Messy and yummy.

The day before we were to leave South Africa (we ended up canceling the Jo’burg leg in order to spend an extra day or two near the sea), the three of us drove to a little beach house on the South Coast, settled in with cold beers, a bottle of Jameson and a view of the ocean (and more whales!), turned up the volume on the iPod speakers, busted out some epic dance moves, attempted trapeze antics from the roof beams, took turns telling really stupid jokes (What do you call a fish with no eyes? A fssssshh — Go on, say it out loud), and even had an ostrich braai (South African for BBQ… hooray!) prepared by our awesome and very cute host.

And then it was time to go. We could easily have spent the remainder of our nine month trip in Africa… In fact, we changed our flights and/or extended our time there a total of three times. We were enormously sad to leave such a beautiful continent. Africa stole our hearts and threatens also to lure us away from Brooklyn for long periods of time in the near future.

Our advice to you if you’re thinking of visiting South Africa, or Uganda or Tanzania or Rwanda, for that matter? Definitely… just say yes.

Heart-pounding hugs,
Jill & Heather

This entry was posted on September 24, 2009 at 11:20 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.