There was nothing special to the South African
Airways flight from Hong Kong, except that the sleeping pills provided by my
doctor did nothing more than ensure I jerk through the night. Sleep did not find me. Thank goodness I was sitting beside Tonya and
not thrashing a total stranger, though I bet she had a different take on that. Arriving at OR Tambo International the next
morning, we exchanged some dinero. I had
miscalculated and we ended up with wads of R100 notes that left us both quite
nervous. We separated them into four
bundles which we hid in different places and then spent some of it on SIM
cards, air time and 3G data.
At Avis Car Rental, the
assistant was courteous and professional, and after finishing up the agreement
and handing us the keys, she gently told us next time to please approach the
BUDGET counter instead of PREFERRED. It
was confusing getting out of the airport complex, and I circled at least twice
before finding the correct exit. We made
our way to Borisimos, which was just beyond the runways, but that likewise proved
quite hard to find, despite having saved all maps to my phone prior to departing
Taiwan. In the end, the difficulty was
partly because Borisimos had now become Wetlands without prior
notification.
We checked in and, finding that we were not
debilitated, decided to go hunting for a voltage converter. In a shopping centre, in a DisChem pharmacy,
I dropped R50 on the ground, and I was so impressed when someone came up to
give it back. I would not have expected
that in this troubled country, where indeed I had been robbed on a previous
visit. After shopping and lunch, we
returned to Wetlands to rest. Tonya
confided that she was finding it hard to understand the various accents; her
own mispronunciation of Afrikaans and Bantu road signs was cute and
endearing.
Next morning I woke early and made my way to
the police station. Was my stay in
Johannesburg going to be about running errands? Documents had to be notarized ahead of
renewing my South African driver’s license, which had expired 2 years
earlier. Leaving the cops, two things
surprised me. First, I learned that
traffic in South Africa was no longer law-abiding as it had once been. Versed in excessively careful driving because
of where I live, I did look before pulling away at the green light, and thank
heavens, or I would have been put down by a speeding truck ignoring its red
light. Second, I somehow opened the boot
(trunk) of the car when I got back in after the police station. A motorist noticed this and pointed and
gesticulated until I stopped to check. A
new perception was taking hold of me that South African society had developed,
licked its wounds, healed. People were
being kind and helpful. All this
courtesy had thus far come from the very people upon whom my forefathers had
trodden. Where was I?
Returning to Wetlands, Tonya was up and had
discovered she’d left some necessary medication in Taiwan. A visit to the doctor was required. There was also an email from Borisimos asking
why we had not shown up the previous night.
I politely pointed out that I had booked rooms in Kempton Park, that I
had not been informed that their two locations had split, that their website
still listed both, and that the fault was not mine. There was time to enjoy a tantalizingly
Western breakfast in the quaint dining room, after which we took our luggage to
the next stop, Gold Reef City Casino Hotel.
I had chosen this venue because of the “period town” that was recreated
to mimic a gold rush settlement at the adjoining amusement park. Sadly, we ended up with so many chores that
we saw neither the amusement park nor the period town. They had once offered descents into the
disused mine which was also something I wanted Tonya to experience, but we
couldn’t even get around to finding out if it was still on offer.
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Leaving our bags in lock-up (it was too early
to check in), we made our way to Midrand Licensing Department to legalize my
driving. I had been told that here the
queues were shorter, and indeed there were not too many people. Furthermore, the company I employed to
collect the license on my behalf (issuance takes 6-8 weeks; I would be using a
temporary license while in South Africa) was located in Pretoria, making this
location the most convenient. However,
it took a very long time to get there, and we had to navigate along some dirt
roads as this was arguably the least developed area between Pretoria and
Johannesburg. Everything went smoothly,
though, and afterwards we went in search of a doctor.
Sandton being historically the most affluent
part of Johannesburg, we headed there for safety’s sake. We stumbled upon The Wedge Medical Suites,
and here Tonya made an appointment for the next day. We had lunch and wandered about the shops in
this outdoor centre. In every shop we
were greeted warmly with “Good day. How are you?”
Unfortunately, my response of “I’m well, and how are you?” sometimes met with “Good, and you?” This was when I
first noticed that South Africans do not listen. (I was gradually convinced of this -
throughout Johannesburg, wherever we stopped for coffee, I ordered mine with
cold milk and invariably got hot. Later,
in Cape Town, I was moved to compliment a waiter for actually paying
attention. However, here it was my
friends who could not hear – I had told them all that I was travelling with an
American friend, yet most of them were surprised by her attendance!!! They were, of course, delighted to make her acquaintance.)
Consultation diarized, lunch consumed, a new
need could be addressed. Before leaving
Taiwan, Tonya had expressed a hankering for a pair of Merrells. I’d found online that they were stocked by
Cape Union Mart and Tekkie Town. We’d
been into two branches of the former store with no luck, so we now headed to
the nearest Tekkie Town. To get there,
we had to travel down Pretoria Main Road, not five kilometers east of lovely
Rivonia Road, upon which lay The Wedge Medical Suites. Here, however, existed a completely different
Johannesburg. The sidewalks were gone,
informal traders spilled onto the pot-holed roads, pedestrians jay-walked
indiscriminately across the busy thoroughfare, automobiles were old and
battered. Here I felt both unwelcome and
at risk. Tonya agreed with my reading of
the vista, and we scarpered. Google Maps
and 3G data led us back to safety.
It was already late afternoon when we arrived
back at Gold Reef City. Quintin, who I
know from my time in London, said he would sup with us there, and we rested
until evening. Ready to go, we spilled
into the casino. Quintin was running
expectedly late, and Tonya was drawn to the jingling, money-gobbling machines. She confessed to having not gambled in years,
verified by her lament at the absence of One-armed Bandits, and decided on the
spur of the moment to have some fun. As
for me, gambling has no appeal. When I
was a teenager, my parents, who did like gambling responsibly, gave me R3 to insert
at a casino in a different part of the country.
I put it all in, won R21 and got overly excited. That R21 gradually disappeared and with it
any shred of gamble-lust in my life since.
For this brief, unscripted and powerful lesson I will always be
grateful. I don’t have a moral objection
to gambling, not even to those who are out of control, but given the bad habits
I have allowed to “taint my good name”, I’m thankful that this was never one of
them.
Tonya went off on her own and had lots of
fun. I wandered about. By the time we were ready to eat, Quintin had
still not arrived, so we started without him.
He did eventually arrive, and his head had turned completely silver in
the years since we last met. Otherwise,
he was still fit and healthy, and it was good to see him. We got to bed quite late, and the
western-sized bathtub in the opulent room remained sadly unused. (I relish lying in the tub with my book until
I fall asleep. One bonus – possibly the
only one – of having a protruding belly is that a book is unlikely to be soaked
as it plunges from its reader’s slumbering hands.)
On Thursday morning, I awoke with enough time
to enjoy breakfast. Tonya slept in. What a spread it was! All the western favourites were available in
abundant supply, and I guzzled carnivorously.
All the roast meats and cold meats and smoked meats and (best of all)
boerewors were only lightly interspersed with a slice of tomato for good
measure, a scoop of fruit salad here, a helping of sautéed mushrooms
there. I could have eaten twice! It was then time to get to the doctor. We put all our luggage in the car and set
out. Arriving with half an hour to
spare, we located the nearest Avis agent and added my name to the rental
agreement. We did not also tell them
that I had been driving all along – Tonya was afraid to drive on the left. Returning to the doc, I made my way once
again to The Wedge shopping area. Here I
found an ABSA ATM. I needed to transfer
funds to the company who would pick up my driver’s license. This was the first time I noticed that the
choices on the machine were nothing like they had been when last I came. I tried once and failed. I tried again, and again the transfer would
not go through. Another failed attempt
might have resulted in a confiscated card, so I elected to wait until I could
physically enter a branch of the bank.
This thwarted episode will tie in with a sour ordeal later in this
travelogue.
Before making our way to Auberge le Fleur, our
next delightful self-catering host, we popped into the Woolworths and salivated
over their choices of prepared salads. I
was taken back to my trip in the Baltics, where my best friends were Maxima and
Rimi Supermarkets. In South Africa, lamentably,
there were no affordable bite-sized portions of smoked salmon. I did occasionally buy some, but at a higher
price and regrettably not as good.
Auberge was stunning. We had two
garden flats in the affluent suburb of Northcliff. Affordable because of their self-catering
status, they were nevertheless serviced daily.
Each flat was large, with all necessities and more. A big bathtub stood in each bathroom, and
this time I did plunge. Tonya did also,
just before I got in my shower to a frigid surprise – one geyser (hot water
cylinder) obviously served both rooms.
The icy water was not welcome, it being winter, but it was an honest
miscalculation and I was not annoyed.
Besides, both Tonya and I were snug in the winter temperatures as
neither of us can bear the heat of a Taiwanese summer.
It was now time for me
to venture out on my own and pay a visit to the Spencers, parents of my dear
friend Leanne who passed away in 2009.
Northcliff is not too far from where they live. To get there, I had to make tracks through
Florida Glen, Florida North and Florida, reaching Georgina and their
abode. Once again I thought, “Where am
I?” They met me in their humble
dwelling, to which they had moved since my last trip. This home for the aged suited them well for
its proximity to amenities and its low cost.
They had both aged markedly in five years and I would not have been able
to pick Bernice out in a crowd. They
were jolly and our reunion was warm and loving.
It is quite a singular experience to be “adopted” at the age of 38, to
become part of a family by virtue of death, but it is what it is, and I’d have
it no other way.
Bernice and I both choked a little when we talked of our lost lady.
I adored and couldn’t stand the pictures she
had in her living room. After tea, we
headed to the Garden of Remembrance where Leanne’s ashes lie in a well
maintained yard at a church. It took an
age to get there, but we made it and I am so happy we did. The return trip took much longer, and we got
caught in a queue backed-up from an unbelievably retarded traffic light. Forty-five minutes later, when it was our
turn, the light turned red before I had even the time to cross the
intersection!
I dropped Bernice and Donald off at their home
and headed back to Auberge. It was
growing dark and I had expressly chosen not to drive around Johannesburg at
night. Make haste! And that’s when I turned into oncoming
traffic. I should say that the markings
on the road have seen better days. It
has become hard to see the lines demarcating lanes, and signage is also in
disrepair or absent. I was on “my” side
of the road, but unexpectedly on a dual carriageway. There was no time to put the car in reverse
and make for the break in the island, so I made the snap decision to climb said
island. Fortuitously, the pavement was
low and there was neither bush nor rock between me and the correct side of
it. A woman who might have crashed into
me did a U-turn at that exact point, and glared at me, the obviously drunken or
doped up motorist temporarily stranded on a shin-high pedestal of shame, twixt torrents
of zooming cars. Close call! I did not think to mention it when we
returned the car as I had heard nothing slam, crackle or screech.
Back in safety, Quintin was meant to pick me up,
but he was still home at 9:30pm, and I went to bed. On Friday morning Tonya and I took the
automatic car back to the airport and picked up a manual. We'd gotten the automatic for only a few days
since in theory Tonya was meant to drive and she can't manage stick. Then it was off to Martindale to visit Ziona,
my longest-standing friend. We worked
out that we'd known each other for 30 years!
Apart from my family, I have no lengthier attachment. Ziona had cooked a delicious chicken curry,
which was preceded by scrumptious samosas.
During our visit, Tonya played with the dogs
and the pet snake (I would never!).
Later, when the dogs were barking, she looked out the sliding door and
casually said, "There's someone at the gate. He's got a chainsaw." Well, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Turned out to be someone familiar to Ziona, a
man who regularly trims her trees.
Ziona offered to show us to a Chinese market
nearby where Tonya might solve her difficulty with charging her phone and
camera. A cheap item was purchased and
served throughout the trip. From there
we bought some nibbles and returned to Ziona's for afternoon tea. Departing, we made plans to meet up again in
a couple of days as Ziona had offered to help solve Tonya's difficulty finding
shoes.
That night Quintin eventually did show up, tardy
though he was, and we went out for a while.
We met up with his friends Irene and Dave. They were both congenial, and she was
especially interesting. A successful
business woman, owner of a chain of bookstores in both Johannesburg and Cape
Town, she was nevertheless wild in manner and broad of mind. After they all had dinner (I wasn't hungry),
we removed to a gay bar nearby to continue with social wetting. Tonight lent itself to complete mayhem in the
company of such Bohemians, but I roped it in as Tonya and I finally had a day
of tourism lined up on Saturday. At
around midnight, Quintin dropped me back at Auberge.
Our first stop after waking was the Cradle of Humankind. This World Heritage Site lies
50km outside Johannesburg. The drive
lasted an hour, and I missed the entrance, though we turned back without delay. Parking the car, I was once again taken by
the warm friendliness of the parking attendant and the guard who both struck up
a conversation with us. I remarked how
wonderful I felt about South African society, which was music to their
ears. Being on the ground in SA, they
seemed more focused on the very real strife caused by a corrupt government and
the 'Tsotsis'. The word means street
thug or gang member, but it incorporates all whose aim it is to steal, batter
and kill.
At this venue, where in 1947 a 2.3 million year
old fossil of Australopithecus africanus was found, there now stands a
museum. Entering, we were directed to
begin our walk through the timeline. I
forget now if we started with the most recent history and proceeded to the most
distant, but it was interesting, although not all the information was unknown
to me. Next we had to stumble through a
Vortex, to which Tonya responded well, whereas it made me quite dizzy and
off-balance. Still, it was fun. A ride through a tunnel in a round boat down
a constructed river took us by a variety of displays of ancient humanoids in
their natural setting. Finally we
stepped into the exhibition hall proper.
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After exiting at the back, we took in a wide
vista of rolling hills devoid of human development. Tonya heard cats fighting. It turned out to be the cries of an infant,
wailing in joy as daddy played with her.
We made our way to the restaurant at the entrance to have lunch. Our next stop was meant to be the
Sterkfontein Caves, but we were advised that the journey involved getting onto
our hands and knees and crawling through very narrow spaces. Neither Tonya nor I make a habit of exerting
ourselves, so we opted to give that a side-step.
We removed instead to nearby Kromdraai Gold Mine, a defunct gem of history. As I've
said, I wanted Tonya to experience descending into the abyss, although she'd revealed
she had done so in another country.
Here, however, we found something completely unexpected, and it was
superior because of the surprise.
Following the GPS (I dubbed the voice 'Siri' - Apple Inc's intelligent
personal assistant and knowledge navigator - while Tonya was labeled 'my
navigatrix'), we came upon an antiquated farm house. A nutty professor came running down the path,
beseeching us to hurry as he was about to commence his lecture to the four
Indian travelers who'd arrived before us.
He spoke at length of the history of mining in the area, the particulars
of this mine and also the industry as a whole.
He showed us an historic picture of Johannesburg - a single tin shanty
standing in a vast empty field, three men with pickaxes poised beside. All the time he found in his dense brain more
information to impart, and it seemed we could be there for hours if he was to
tell us all he knew. He was passionate
about his topic and engaging.
The Indians then left - they had already been
into the mine - and we followed our guide.
It turned out to be a horizontal shaft, no headgear to lower or hoist
workers or ore. We walked along the
first level. Other levels were visible
deeper into the ground, but these were flooded and down narrow angled
slopes. He showed us where the ore had
been extracted. And as we walked, he
also pointed out the various species of bat that had taken over the mine as domicile. In places a single bat hung sound asleep from
the tunnel ceiling. Others slumbered in
terrific congregations. All in all, this
was a fascinating and edifying trip, made all the more compelling by the man
with facts pouring out of his skull like torrents after a storm.
All we had time for now was a visit to the Lion Park near Lanseria Airport. Here we were
excited at the chance to view rare white lions in addition to other predators
and prey. Approaching the entrance, I
spotted a boy of perhaps two or three leaving the wrong way through the turnstiles,
unaccompanied. I picked him up and
started worrying what to do now.
Fortuitously, a man sitting in a parked car to my right recognized the
boy and took him from me. I was slightly
worried that I might be giving him to a complete stranger, but then how would I
know when I met his parents that they were indeed who they said. Later, at the cashier, the boy had been
reunited with another man and his wife, and he seemed quite at home with them. The parents seemed embarrassed, and I wanted
to shout, "I am a teacher. I understand what children do."
Our ticket got us entry to the first section of
the park, zoo-like with small enclosures housing ostrich, giraffe, cute cubs
and a variety of other animals. There
was also a restaurant and the requisite gift shop. We wandered around taking in the
critters. The ticket further paid for a
truck ride through the much larger, open fields wherein a diversity of antelope
ran free. Hidden from immediate sight
were other meadows in which hungry predators of selected species awaited their
dinner. As we prepared to leave, a tame
giraffe came up to the truck to inspect its wayfarers, and the friendly thing
ended up sticking its head through the bars to give Tonya a kiss or three. Everyone was amused by this, and a number of
people promised her pictures by email - she never received any.
Our guide was informative and fun. We learned among other things how to tell the
male from the female. I learned that
conservation law prohibits the park from feeding live prey to the predators as
the prey must have at least a 50% chance of escape. I learned to my private disgust that in hyena
society, a dominant male and female couple are the only ones that breed. All other females lactate to assist in the
rearing of the dominant's young. What a
pitiful existence!
There were
springbok, impala, blesbok and zebra. We
drove deeper into the veld to see lions, white lions, cheetahs and hyenas. The white lions were exquisite. I was pleased that we had booked a truck ride
because for self-drive customers, the white lions were off-limits. This is due to the death of an American
tourist who was dragged by a lioness from the open window of her car. Having heard this, I resolved to never open
my window in the Kruger National Park, to which we were headed in a couple of
days.
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As we made to exit the
park, my eye caught a piece of art with which I fell instantly in love and
which I could simply not resist.
Purchase completed, we turned right out the exit after checking with the
guard that I had the right road. We
drove a few kilometers and then I started to get uneasy. Informal settlements and a restless
atmosphere began to materialize. A
little while later, ahead on my route, a sprawling shanty town stretched into
the distance on both sides of the road, swallowing said artery like a ravenous
monster. I pointed this out to Tonya,
who'd been looking down at her phone.
She agreed with my assessment, so we made a rapid about-turn and raced
in the opposite direction. Once again
Siri and my navigatrix saved us, this time from possible untold misery. If you think I'm exaggerating, kindly wait to
pass judgment until you've read this whole memoir.
Back within the safety
of the city, we tried to eat at Cresta Shopping Centre, but all eateries were
closed. We did, however, come across
this genius advertising gimmick. We then
made our way to nearby Nando's, which is a South African
institution, and to which I had promised to take Tonya since we landed. Originally set up by South African Portuguese
people, it became a franchise and then spread across the globe, operating 1000
establishments in 30 countries. Bottled Nando's
sauces are also sold all over the planet, and I even saw some on the shelves of
Rimi and Maxima in the Baltics.
Regrettably, Tonya did not enjoy her meal, but then she did order
hummus, for which Nando's is not known.
It is fundamentally renowned for chicken and peri-peri. I loved my chicken dish.
It was now dark and we returned to
Auberge. On Sunday morning, we took
dirty clothes to the laundromat nearby.
(I was thrilled to not have a repeat of my Baltic misfortune regarding
clothes washing - here laundry services were readily available, either at our
accommodation or at a shopping centre close-at-hand.) We had arranged to meet Ziona here, from
where she would guide us to footwear outlets.
Tonya did not find what she was looking for, but she bought an
acceptable substitute at a branch of Cape Union Mart.
Next we made tracks for Monte Casino, a
gambling complex in the north of Johannesburg.
We did not head there for the obvious reason - I was going to meet
Monique, whom I know from when I lived in Cape Town a lifetime ago. She worked at the time for a chain of Indian restaurants,
one of which was located in this complex, and she thought it the easiest place
to meet. It was indeed quite
spectacular. The interior was designed
to replicate a European street; even the ceiling changed colour to imitate the
sky going from day to dark; the blue canopy and puffy clouds relenting to black
universe and twinkling stars.
We took a meal at the Spur, another South
African institution. Our conversation
was animated and jovial. After
consuming, Tonya and Ziona went off separately to enjoy the jingly machines
while Monique and I walked about, ate ice cream and window-shopped. She confided that she desperately wanted to
leave The Raj, having worked there for many years.
She had been for an interview with Bidvest,
which is a company I do not ever remember seeing in South Africa. Now in 2015, however, it seems one of the
most expansive enterprises in the country.
Founded in 1988 and listed on the Johannesburg stock exchange in 1990,
the conglomerate "owns or has significant holdings in over 300 companies
and is active across five continents". Bidvest
South Africa's services and products include freight, office products, leading
motor brands, travel and aviation services, security, cleaning and landscaping,
hygiene rental equipment, consumer appliances, catering, electrical products, printing,
banking and insurance. (Wikipedia) They
operate in Australasia, Asia, Africa, Europe and South America.
When Monique and I were together, she had not
been successful in her application with them, but she was very excited to tell
me after my return to Taiwan that she had indeed landed a job with Bidvest
Foodservice and would be starting with them in October. Moving on and having fresh experiences is
always so exciting!
All good reunions must come to an end, and at
5pm it was time to part. Monique
returned home and I took Tonya and Ziona to meet Quintin's mother. En route, Tonya somehow pressed the wrong
switch, thereby popping the bonnet (hood).
None of us noticed it until a hawker at a set of lights pointed it out
and kindly closed it for us. I was
impressed anew at the benevolence of the community.
Audrey and I had met
whenever I visited Quintin - we'd always stop by for tea or a meal. She'd moved to a new house since my last visit,
having sold her place in Northcliff. I
had tried to get Quintin to take me there, but inasmuch as he is a challenged
timekeeper, I realized it was up to me to get together with her of my own
accord. It was great to see her, husband
Reg and to meet her sister, who was staying with her at the time. I would have loved to stay longer, but Tonya
and I were departing Johannesburg the next morning, and I had promised to see
Quintin himself one final time. I
apologetically cut our visit short, dropped Ziona at her car, which was still
at the laundromat, and Tonya at Auberge.
Then I headed across town, to where Quintin was now headmaster of a
private school that offered him accommodation on the grounds. It too was a short visit. I was amused by the sign that had not been
repaired (ASSESSMENT CENTRE). At the end of my stopover, Quintin insisted
we meet again at Johannesburg International during my layover on my return to
Taiwan. We agreed, and I departed to
Auberge for the last night.
