Namibia to Mozambique via South Africa
Both of us had enjoyed Namibia so much we really didn't want to leave, but once you get towards the end of a trip you don't have the luxury of time. So we bid farewell to Windhoek and set off on our 26 hour bus journey, which would take us to Pretoria in South Africa.
We weren't particularly looking forward to the bus journey either, for although the buses were of a decent standard, they weren't quite like those in Argentina with flat beds and champagne. In fact, the normal Intercape bus left Windhoek at 6.30pm and travelled through the night across the border and would arrive in a town in SA at 6.30am. There we would wait 1 1/2 hours before the next bus, a sleep liner bus, would travel through the day to arrive in Pretoria at just after 8pm that evening. Don't ask me why it was a special comfy sleep orientated bus for the day portion of the trip because it would have been so much more appreciated at night.
We didn't end up getting much sleep at all that night, partly because of the seats (although we managed to secure two each), partly because they woke us at 3am to get off the bus and do the necessary to be let out of Namibia and into South Africa, and partly because of Douglas, a South African farmer.
Douglas introduced himself before we even got on the bus and was soon informing us that he had vodka in his coke bottles. Ah. When we realised he had the seat in front of us I think we were both slightly concerned that he may interfere with our plan to sleep through the journey. This man could talk, but the more we listened the more he had us in stitches listening to his stories.
He was on his way back to his farm, having just visited his two children in Windhoek, something he did regularly. Because of this we were very surprised to be woken at 3am to cross the border as Douglas had informed us that we crossed it at 6am and from there it was a short drive to where we would change buses. Hmm? OK so maybe he had more vodka than coke in those bottles.
What he also had was a massive bag of biltong and dried sausages. Biltong is an African speciality. It is basically dried meat, usually beef, kudu or ostrich. He had big sticks of it which he had made on his farm. We had tried some bought from a supermarket, but it was nothing compared to this. He very kindly shared some of his stash with us and we happily chomped away on kudu biltong whilst he talked.
One of his stories was about living on the farm and having to get up at 5am, even in winter, to milk the cows. He and his siblings would pray that the cow would take a dump whilst it was being milked so that they could slide their bare feet into it to keep them warm. He certainly kept us entertained and the first part of the journey went quite quickly, despite getting very little sleep. The next part seemed to drag on forever though, and as Douglas said, the bus was going so fast that a tortoise with a broken leg had just over taken us.
We bid our farewells to Douglas who said his farm was 200km form the nearest town but was then able to point out his house from the bus stop, but who were we to argue. We eventually arrived at our destination, having passed through Johannesburg and been glad we weren't stopping, only to get ripped off by the taxi driver and to find that the hostel we had booked was a dump. We were so knackered we could do nothing but sleep - for 11 hours to be precise!
Pretoria wasn't on our list of places to visit but we had chosen it over Johannesburg as a stop off point. We spent the couple of days we had there getting things sorted for the last couple of weeks of our trip. We had initially planned to head to Kruger National Park and then into Mozambique to spend the last week on the beach but due to a lack of cheap cars for hire we decided to do it the other way round.
This meant we would need to get a visa for Mozambique, at a whopping $100 each we had had to seriously consider that it was worth it. But Mik hadn't seen his whale sharks yet, and I was keen to spend time on the beach before we headed home, so we decided to go for it.
Shortly after we paid this money and picked up our visa we found out that at the border people were only being charged $20 - shite! We probably wouldn't have risked it as the embassy themselves had said you couldn't get one at the border, but we were just a little peeved. There was only thing that would console us and that was a beer. Or a cider in my case, and as they have great cider in South Africa I was happy to head to the local Irish bar for a swift one. One turned into four due to the fact that the Guinness was a pound a pint!!! Well we had to recoup our losses on the visa somehow. At 6pm we decided maybe we should get some food in our bellies and head for the hostel before it got too dark. Kebabs it was.
We left the next day on another Intercape bus and headed for the capital of Mozambique, Maputo. We had reached the border at around 5.15am and as it didn't open til 6am we sat waiting, watching from our seats at the front of the bus, all the people with their truck loads of fruit and veg (onions in particular), plastic chairs and mattresses trying to secure it all in place. The road was mobbed with people and I thought it would make a good photo. Unfortunately there wasn't a memory card in it but it gave off a good flash anyway. 5 minutes later one of the stewards on the bus came to ask who had a camera. I indicated that I had but that there was no card and therefore no photo had been taken. He seemed to accept this but from the murmurs on the bus and the sight of a police van parking up I thought I could be in real trouble - if only because the police man fancied himself a camera. Luckily he moved on. What is it with me and borders. I really should have learnt by now just to sit still and say nothing!
We arrived in Maputo at 8.30am, just too late to get a bus to take up up the coast so we headed for a hostel to spend the night.
Maputo was another place that hadn't really been on our wish list and as we had been warned to be careful of being robbed we didn't do too much wandering around. The hostel we stayed at was fairly remote so we didn't fancy going out at night for dinner. That left us with 2 minute noodles and packet soup for dinner - yum! Peter, a Dutch guy we had been chatting to, kindly donated a couple of tinned sausages, which almost made it edible.
The following morning we were up at 5am to go find a bus which would take us to Tofo about 7 hours north. We had been advised that the smaller minibuses were safer and faster than the big buses and so grabbed a taxi to a place called Junta where we were informed we would find such a bus. I have never seen anything like this place. It was just a large patch of land by the side of a roundabout which was covered by dozens of minibuses all loaded to varying degrees. Luckily for us someone the guy trying to sell us bread took us to a bus which looked really quite road worthy, the price was right so we got on. Of course in the usual way you then have to wait until they have filled it completely before they will leave. This took about an hour. By then my legs were already beginning to ache as once again we were sitting in seats built for those people who are only 3 foot tall. I was distracted now and again though by people thrusting items through the window for me to purchase. This ranged from the relatively desirable, to the downright ridiculous - cans of cold pop, to headscarves, to phone cards, to battery operated transister radios to large plastic wall clocks. They didn't seem to understand that we didn't have much use for such things. Although a couple of boys found something amusing as every time they came past and caught sight of Mik they would burst into fits of giggles and point him out to their friends. We still don't know why. I mean he's no longer a pasty shade of grey and had even trimmed his beard fairly recently. Maybe they thought he was Brad Pitt in disguise (albeit a very good disguise - Mik's words not mine).
It was an uncomfortable journey just because of the leg room but we arrived safe and sound and without any of the blown tyres or overturnings which we had heard so much about.
Cara
No comments:
Post a Comment