Cape Town: The Finale
Whew, after all that, I’ve been assigned to tell you about our last night of debauchery in Cape Town and the epic road trip that followed. Still onboard?
I’ll start off by conceding that we ain’t undergrads anymore (well, other than technically). By the end of our stay in Cape Town *sigh*, LL, CGoddess and I were running almost on empty, having partied our little hearts out all week. Despite this, Laura and Christina managed to drag themselves to the Kirstenbosche Botanical Gardens, which Christina had been dying to see (see peek-a-boo photo series). Me? Well, I admit, I vegged back at the Pickups with Ed and Carlo … I mean, how can the Butchart Gardens ever be outdone? Okay, you caught me, I haven’t been to the Butchart Gardens since I was, like, 10 or something. I was just being lazy. As for the evening, our last in town, it was not to be outdone by the previous eight. It entailed a deadly combination of wine “by the glass,” gourmet pizza, and a few games of Drinking Jenga in a great lounge called Oblivion. Things soon began to run amok, as things tend to do when Drinking Jenga is involved (we at least didn’t sink so low as to chug our good wine). Highlights from the night include a lap-dance, courtesy of Laura, to some dude’s car (we decided a stranger was just too cruel) … Christina’s apparently convincing pantomime as the establishment’s boss lady and the requisite offer of “favors” to customers … each of us getting way too cozy with a one-dimensional headless man *shudder* … Carlo getting his 15 minutes (wasn’t it supposed to be 3? ; ) … Laura sweeping into the men’s room like she owned the place (and getting busted) … and Ed’s valiant effort to abide vigilantly to every rule to the very end (I’ve never seen someone go without talking or using his thumbs for as long as this guy did … or spank Christina like he did … or ask a girl if she was gay like he did ….). As for the rest, what happens at Oblivion, stays at Oblivion …. All in all, it was a killer end to a killer nine days.
The next morning, we were up and at ‘em bright and early, off to the airport to pick up our rental car for the loooooooooooooonnnnnnnggg drive home (as in, 3 days long). Admittedly we weren’t on the road until, like, 10:30 or something, but at least we did so in style – somehow Laura sweet-talked ourselves into a car with power-steering (yea, you’d think it’d go without saying, but apparently here it’s an “added feature”). And we were off towards the adorable town of Knysna, five hours away. There we chilled on a waterfront that could give CT’s V&A a run for its money, and Laura and Christina chowed down on some clams or oysters, I can’t remember which (Knysna is the oyster/clam capital of the continent). And we picked up a few nice items for our burgeoning jewelry collections from, strangely enough, a homeopathic pharmacy!?! Then it was off to Stewart’s house, a super sweet friend of Ed’s sister, Linzi. Stewart not only fed us braii (bbq), but he put us up for the night and even gave us his room! (I think Laura’s drooping eyelids and struggle to stay awake pulled at his heartstrings). Yep, Team AXL party-pooped on that night, alright (well, Christina was ready to party … but Christina’s ALWAYS ready to party). Nevertheless, Stewart was at our door the next morning with our 7 AM wake-up call, three coffee mugs in hand … I know!!! I just can’t believe our South African hosts so far; they have really taught us what opening your home and city to adventure seeking (okay, and sometimes weary) travelers is all about. Do unto others, I suppose ….
Day 2 of our journey back to Durbz: It was only a few hours into our drive when Storm River quickly appeared and Laura had to face what was looming all week: she was about to jump off a bridge 216 m high. Getting to be there and watch her lunge was a thrill in and of itself … yes, obviously not as much as a thrill as throwing myself off a bridge, but … oh, shut up. At least I handled the walk over the wobbly bridge to the jump site with a little more finesse than Christina … that’s something, isn’t it? Sorry, Christina.
But, while Christina may not handle heights with the best of them, let me tell you … has that girl got nerves of steel when it comes to navigating the death traps they call roadways here! Christina did, I’d guestimate, about 85% of the drive home (um, me 0%). Between cows, goats, dogs, and sheep wandering the fenceless roads, and men, women and children using the shoulderless highways as personal footpaths, the Transkei kept our knuckles (well, mine at least) white for most of the drive. The death toll along there wasn’t pretty. One day we saw a dead cow by the road, then the next, a mule and 8 dogs. Soooo sad. So coming around a bend at night on a single-lane highway to find an oncoming kombie on the right and a small gang of people walking in your lane on the left made for some surprises. Christina was our own personal Jacques Villeneuve (without the speed, of course, moms and dads). Even Formula 1 drivers make mistakes, however, and we were stuck in a whole lot of mud on Day 3, in beautiful Port St. Johns on a drizzly day. This particular sitch called for Laura’s tactical maneuvers behind the wheel, and a little grunt work from Christina, myself, and a kid whose mother just stood there, pointed, and laughed. It was good practice, though, as I’m sure we’ll be doing a lot of pushing on our end of year journeys.
But, back to Port St. Johns. But it’s kind of funny how we ended up there in the first place, as our intention had been to stick to the main highway and do a hike at Coffee Bay instead. Various incidents the night before, however, plus the rainy weather that began in East London and kept us company all the way back to Durban played out in such a way that PSJ was a kind of a last-minute destination. I can’t say enough about that town, so I won’t, just to spare you (you can thank me later). The photos do a great job of capturing just how quaint and laid back it is, all the while feeling kind of lively and like a real African coastal town. Our time there was definitely too short, because we were back on the road and heading for home a couple hours later.
And so here we are today back in Durban, waiting to hear from a mechanic about whether Roxie is roadworthy (enough) for a trek north to Mozambique scheduled for tomorrow. I know, I know … we’re back in town for less than a week and a half and we’ve already schemed another grand adventure. The white sands and turquoise waters are calling our names, I can hear them, so we pack our bags and await our fate. Hey, I didn’t say life here was easy ….
Congrats to all the UVic grads! We would have loved to be there with you for the big finish (and the even bigger parties). Now get out there and have a delinquent summer, you know, before the real world gets its greasy paws on us!
Allison
I’ll start off by conceding that we ain’t undergrads anymore (well, other than technically). By the end of our stay in Cape Town *sigh*, LL, CGoddess and I were running almost on empty, having partied our little hearts out all week. Despite this, Laura and Christina managed to drag themselves to the Kirstenbosche Botanical Gardens, which Christina had been dying to see (see peek-a-boo photo series). Me? Well, I admit, I vegged back at the Pickups with Ed and Carlo … I mean, how can the Butchart Gardens ever be outdone? Okay, you caught me, I haven’t been to the Butchart Gardens since I was, like, 10 or something. I was just being lazy. As for the evening, our last in town, it was not to be outdone by the previous eight. It entailed a deadly combination of wine “by the glass,” gourmet pizza, and a few games of Drinking Jenga in a great lounge called Oblivion. Things soon began to run amok, as things tend to do when Drinking Jenga is involved (we at least didn’t sink so low as to chug our good wine). Highlights from the night include a lap-dance, courtesy of Laura, to some dude’s car (we decided a stranger was just too cruel) … Christina’s apparently convincing pantomime as the establishment’s boss lady and the requisite offer of “favors” to customers … each of us getting way too cozy with a one-dimensional headless man *shudder* … Carlo getting his 15 minutes (wasn’t it supposed to be 3? ; ) … Laura sweeping into the men’s room like she owned the place (and getting busted) … and Ed’s valiant effort to abide vigilantly to every rule to the very end (I’ve never seen someone go without talking or using his thumbs for as long as this guy did … or spank Christina like he did … or ask a girl if she was gay like he did ….). As for the rest, what happens at Oblivion, stays at Oblivion …. All in all, it was a killer end to a killer nine days.
The next morning, we were up and at ‘em bright and early, off to the airport to pick up our rental car for the loooooooooooooonnnnnnnggg drive home (as in, 3 days long). Admittedly we weren’t on the road until, like, 10:30 or something, but at least we did so in style – somehow Laura sweet-talked ourselves into a car with power-steering (yea, you’d think it’d go without saying, but apparently here it’s an “added feature”). And we were off towards the adorable town of Knysna, five hours away. There we chilled on a waterfront that could give CT’s V&A a run for its money, and Laura and Christina chowed down on some clams or oysters, I can’t remember which (Knysna is the oyster/clam capital of the continent). And we picked up a few nice items for our burgeoning jewelry collections from, strangely enough, a homeopathic pharmacy!?! Then it was off to Stewart’s house, a super sweet friend of Ed’s sister, Linzi. Stewart not only fed us braii (bbq), but he put us up for the night and even gave us his room! (I think Laura’s drooping eyelids and struggle to stay awake pulled at his heartstrings). Yep, Team AXL party-pooped on that night, alright (well, Christina was ready to party … but Christina’s ALWAYS ready to party). Nevertheless, Stewart was at our door the next morning with our 7 AM wake-up call, three coffee mugs in hand … I know!!! I just can’t believe our South African hosts so far; they have really taught us what opening your home and city to adventure seeking (okay, and sometimes weary) travelers is all about. Do unto others, I suppose ….
Day 2 of our journey back to Durbz: It was only a few hours into our drive when Storm River quickly appeared and Laura had to face what was looming all week: she was about to jump off a bridge 216 m high. Getting to be there and watch her lunge was a thrill in and of itself … yes, obviously not as much as a thrill as throwing myself off a bridge, but … oh, shut up. At least I handled the walk over the wobbly bridge to the jump site with a little more finesse than Christina … that’s something, isn’t it? Sorry, Christina.
But, while Christina may not handle heights with the best of them, let me tell you … has that girl got nerves of steel when it comes to navigating the death traps they call roadways here! Christina did, I’d guestimate, about 85% of the drive home (um, me 0%). Between cows, goats, dogs, and sheep wandering the fenceless roads, and men, women and children using the shoulderless highways as personal footpaths, the Transkei kept our knuckles (well, mine at least) white for most of the drive. The death toll along there wasn’t pretty. One day we saw a dead cow by the road, then the next, a mule and 8 dogs. Soooo sad. So coming around a bend at night on a single-lane highway to find an oncoming kombie on the right and a small gang of people walking in your lane on the left made for some surprises. Christina was our own personal Jacques Villeneuve (without the speed, of course, moms and dads). Even Formula 1 drivers make mistakes, however, and we were stuck in a whole lot of mud on Day 3, in beautiful Port St. Johns on a drizzly day. This particular sitch called for Laura’s tactical maneuvers behind the wheel, and a little grunt work from Christina, myself, and a kid whose mother just stood there, pointed, and laughed. It was good practice, though, as I’m sure we’ll be doing a lot of pushing on our end of year journeys.
But, back to Port St. Johns. But it’s kind of funny how we ended up there in the first place, as our intention had been to stick to the main highway and do a hike at Coffee Bay instead. Various incidents the night before, however, plus the rainy weather that began in East London and kept us company all the way back to Durban played out in such a way that PSJ was a kind of a last-minute destination. I can’t say enough about that town, so I won’t, just to spare you (you can thank me later). The photos do a great job of capturing just how quaint and laid back it is, all the while feeling kind of lively and like a real African coastal town. Our time there was definitely too short, because we were back on the road and heading for home a couple hours later.
And so here we are today back in Durban, waiting to hear from a mechanic about whether Roxie is roadworthy (enough) for a trek north to Mozambique scheduled for tomorrow. I know, I know … we’re back in town for less than a week and a half and we’ve already schemed another grand adventure. The white sands and turquoise waters are calling our names, I can hear them, so we pack our bags and await our fate. Hey, I didn’t say life here was easy ….
Congrats to all the UVic grads! We would have loved to be there with you for the big finish (and the even bigger parties). Now get out there and have a delinquent summer, you know, before the real world gets its greasy paws on us!
Allison
posted by AXL in Africa at
5:21 PM
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