Cruising "Josie" ... oops, "Jozi"

I arrived yesterday to Joburg after a long 7 hours in a toiletless coach baking at close to 30 degrees (South Africans hate to be "cold"). I, of course, considered asking the driver to turn the heat down, but didn't want to brand myself as the resident complaining American. So I bit my tongue and sweat it out. But at least I made it here, for $25 no less. Yesterday morn I wasn't sure I would. The buslines have some strange rationale for not accepting int'l credit cards, so, knowing there were only a few seats left on the 11 a.m. bus, I could only hope there'd be one left when I arrived to the station. There were two, actually. But the man directly in front of me in the queue bought them both, go figure. Ish. So off I went door to door to the other liners. Thankfully, the very last one I tried had an 11 a.m.'er as well. Ha! So off I went with a little extra cash in my pocket for taking the budget special (i.e. no toilets, no refreshments or snacks). I'll take budget anyday, thank you (well, a toilet would be nice ...), but do these people know how to do bus trips, or what? ... movies, attendants, and all. Park Station in Joburg looks like an airport.

And am I ever glad the first bus didn't work out because I met some really interesting characters on my trip. One 50+ year old man thought for some reason (something I said probably) that I had just run the Comrades, an 89 km foot race from Durban to Pietermartizberg. He, only running for 4 years, ran it in 10 hours and 43 minutes ... with an injury. There's hope for us all, isn't there?

And then there was Joe, a soft- but well-spoken young dude from Zambia. At first I was a little scepitcal of this guy, who plunked down next to me after jumping on at a set of lights near the station without a ticket. A few hours later I discovered the driver likes to make side deals with young guys with little baggage, pocketing the fare for himself. Joe and I soon got to talking. He told me he had spent the night at the bus station after his buddy, who he had come all the way from Botswana to collect a debt from, stood him up. So I'm thinking, okay, what's the deal .... More stories emerge and Joe becomes increasingly mysterious. I tell him so a couple hours in, to which he takes offence a little. So he proceeds to open his whole life up to me, and I soon realized this guy is the real deal. What didn't we talk about? I mean, once you go down the path of "what does Jesus Christ mean to your life," well, then, things are pretty much free game. We talked for 7 hours straight. A good guy, that one is - so much so I hooked him up with a room at my hostel.

Our arrival to the hostel was chaotic to say the least - not a single person, staff included, was less than hammered. A bunch of red necks, really. One man snarled in our direction within less than 10 seconds of arriving, "is that your boyfrieeend?!?" So Joe and I excused ourselves and walked over to the Rosebank district, one of the few areas in town safe to walk at night - a really beautiful area. We weren't surprised when, on our return from dinner at 10 pm, there was no one sober enough to answer the bell. So I proceeded to scale a 20 foot gate - a breeze (and jolly good time) really - as, to my surprise, there was no barbed wire to keep us out. I expected all of Joburg to be blanketed in the barbz.

So it was an early night for me, exhaused from the past week of staring at computer screens under fluorescent lights for so long that my eyes actually started to get wonked. But I was up and at 'em bright and early this morn, writing you this entry over breakfast and espresso in trendy Melville. The sun is shining, the air a little crisp, like a fall or spring day in Victoria (and sweet, I get to wear my blue puffs). I've noticed from my brief time here that Jo'burgers like to dress to kill ... I mean, it's a Sunday morn and these people look like they're ready to go clubbing. Anyways, I'm thinking of hitting up some live jazz in Newtown tonight myself, after I buy a new shirt (just spilt coffee all over Mr. Trudeau). But first over to Braamfontein to cruise what's happening there. It's dang expensive cabbing around this city, so I'm in for the long haul today, to get my money's worth out of the ride into town. I can't be bothered to taxi here, as I know I'm going to be doing it for the next two weeks. But I'm looking forward to saving a little cash once I cross into Zim ... oh, and to a bed that isn't lumpy and a room that hasn't just been spray-bombed for bugs ... what bugs, I'm not sure (before coming to SA, I never imagined I could be so tolerant of insects ... I'm practically a warrior). Backpacker's Ritz it is for us, Heather.
A'ight, so I'm safe and sound in the big city.

Love to all,

Allison