Saturday, November 21, 2015

Algoa


The Safair flight that carried me to Port Elizabeth was not even a third full.  Beside me sat a friendly man and we struck up a conversation.  Arriving at Port Elizabeth, I was met with a thorough annoyance.  To enjoy a 25% discount, while buying the Safair ticket, I'd also reserved a vehicle with 1st Car.  After going through the rental agreement and getting the price, the company refused to give me a vehicle because my credit card is not embossed.  I'd never heard such insanity, and I said as much.  They insisted they needed to take an impression of the numbers and that there was nothing else they could do.  Irked, I tried at Bidvest (that company of swift ascendance) and at Europecar.  The response was the same each time.  Seeing the last leg of my trip crumble, I finally acquiesced and called my brother Kevin.  He was in a meeting but came immediately after.  I asked if he would put the car on his credit card and accept cash from me.  He agreed and transferred funds to facilitate this.  I then opted to go to Avis because I did not wish to give my business to those unwelcoming enterprises.  Just before paying, I asked if they'd accept my card.  The clever receptionist took a photocopy of it and allowed the transaction.  Boy, was I glad I hadn't returned to the others.  Not only that, but this car was cheaper than at 1st Car, even after their "25% discount".


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Kevin followed me to Africa Beach B&B in Summerstrand, where I dropped my bags in the room on the lovely grounds. Then, in the rain, we retired to his home in Bluewater Bay, stopping en route to get dinner.  It was great to see Kevin's wife Wayonette, daughter Jayde (who'd now grown into a young woman, off to college next year), and mother-in-law Stella.  They all looked well and happy, although Stella had not completely recovered from the loss of her husband a couple of years earlier.  I cannot stand this fact of life - death is so frightfully final and certain.

On Friday morning, I awoke two minutes after the end of breakfast.  Never mind, I'd slept well.  I slowly got ready and then lunched at the Beach Hotel, where I'd hoped to stay - way beyond my budget!  I scoffed down a delicious chicken schnitzel and seasonal veg.  Kevin joined me there, tardy in the vein of Quintin.  Next we drove to my alma mater, which also lies in Summerstrand.  It was when I studied here that I first met Nienke with whom I'd eaten in Cape Town last week.  I read at the Music Department of the University of Port Elizabeth and she was in the Ceramics Department at the Port Elizabeth Technikon.  These two institutions have since amalgamated and been renamed Nelson Mandela Metropolitan University, which includes the following institutions previously absorbed by either the university or the technikon: the Port Elizabeth campus of Vista University, Saasveld Forestry College, Port Elizabeth Teachers' Training College and Algoa College of Education.

I'd come today to see Professor Zelda Potgieter, who'd been my mentor when I'd written my treatise many years earlier.  I'd always found her personable and an inspiration, so I looked her up in 2010 and again now in 2015.  This time I came bearing a gift of Chinese classical music on CD.  She was unfortunately in a hurry, so we spoke for only a few minutes, but it was good to see her.  She is the only other musician I know who is like me in this respect: although we both adore music, neither of us has any desire to perform and we both acknowledge our mediocrity at playing.  Most people think that makes one less of a musician, but I cannot agree.  Musicology is very much a respected field, and what is a scholar if not someone who immerses himself in the theory and science of his subject?
 

Next on my agenda was picking up a list of South African goodies from various supermarkets at the request of compatriots in Taiwan.  
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  I went into a Checkers.  Here people ambled obstructively and I got rather peeved, which is so silly.  Then I kicked the bucket - which was standing low on the floor right beside the shelves at which I was staring intently, and I nearly fell to the ground.  A metre to my right, a man took a stick of deodorant from the shelf, opened it, applied some to his armpit, closed it and replaced it on the shelf.  This was the last straw, and I fled Checkers in search of a Pick 'n Pay or Spar.

I did eventually get all the goodies, and now I had to work out how to get them back to Taiwan - my baggage would certainly be overweight.  I popped into the trusty Post Net.  Their international shipping came with two choices.  Either I sent the box by courier, which meant by air, at a cost of R3180 for 5kgs, or I could ship by boat, which meant that the package would be handled by the undependable Post Office.  I had to get creative, especially since I had 10kgs to ship.  It was then I remembered that Emirates, with whom I'd fly back to the East, allow 30kgs of check-in luggage.  I got online to check Mango's policy - I'd use their services from Port Elizabeth to Johannesburg.  As it happened, I could buy extra baggage online before flying, at a cost of R250 for 10kgs.  What a joy!  (When I checked in a few days later, the assistant told me that I'd been smart - extra baggage on the day would have cost R450.)  All that was left was to find a box.  Cut to me popping into supermarkets and bottle stores day after day until I found the perfect receptacle for my purposes.

Saturday and Sunday were spent driving around the city, reminiscing about happy student days and enjoying visions of friends long since buried into sub conscience.  At times, I felt somewhat uneasy, as I had on Pretoria Main Road in Johannesburg and on Greenmarket Square in Cape Town.  I heard later that there had been angry demonstrations in Walmer, through which I passed several times.  I also had brunch with Tyrone, once again at the Beach Hotel.  He told me that his brother had been unable to go to work during the demonstrations, as the masses of people stomping past his house had resultantly confined him to the safety of indoors.  (Tyrone is the widower of Ron Whitehead.  I met Ron many years earlier when I lived in Port Elizabeth.  He was part of the gay network, and I came to rent a room in his gorgeous home in Mill Park for the duration of my final year in Port Elizabeth, 1993.  Ron passed away from a ruptured aneurysm in 2009 or 2010.)

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The rest of the time was spent catching up with Kevin and his family, either at their home or out and about.  On Saturday, we visited Bay West, a sprawling shopping complex just outside PE on the N2, west of the city.  Here were all kinds of expensive stores and an ice rink.  I was interested to notice that not one person on the ice was black.  Another interesting sight was the Bubble Tea Company - bubble tea is a quintessentially Taiwanese concoction.  We ate at the Spur and then retired for the night.  On Sunday we lunched at Grass Roof Cafe, which also lies west of PE on the road to Seaview.  The decor was lovely and our waiter was both attractive and funny, flirtatious even with Wayonette and Jayde.  My choice of food, however, disappointed.