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Keep your socks on!

"Never discourage anyone...who continually makes progress, no matter how slow."
- Plato

Thanks Plato, but that would have been a lot more helpful without the caveat about continual progress. Maybe next time you can give it a bit more thought and stop trying to sound clever.

Okay, ladies and gentlemen, it's official. I am confused. Now I know that most of you earnestly believe I spend my entire waking life confused, but this time it's different.

The source of my confusion is this; according to the statistics of my web hosting company, there are now more people haranguing me to complete this website than there are people who actually read the website. The specific numbers are not important (3 and 4 if you must know!), but what is important is that I am rapidly running out of free time and Jesus Domingo Velasquez of Uruguay is not going to leave me alone until I tell him about what happened in Southern Africa. To add insult to injury, Cara has finished writing her final entries and is now both metaphorically and literally tapping her feet waiting for me to move things along. This I will do, soon. Well, soonish anyway.

Just to bring things up to date, we are now living in Cara's flat in Greater London. Cara recently took up her new role as CEO of Haliburton and I currently work part-time as toilet paper in a swanky city centre hotel. I try to make ends meet by selling monkeys to Bolivian sailors, but being a landlocked country, they are few and far between. I was recently given a job in Burnley, but I managed to get out of it after I gave them one of my kidneys (it's okay, it wasn't the good one).

To keep you all amused and make your visit here today worthwhile, I have attached a picture of a kitten. You're welcome.

Mik

P.S. I know the cat looks like it has been smacked in the face with a shovel, but it was the only way I could get it to stay still!

P.P.S. To the gentleman in North America who has questioned my ability to spell words like metre, centre and colour; no I am not French, that's just how we spell things in England.

What a finale!

Kruger National Park, South Africa

Chasing down wild animals in our rental car - an absolutely fantastic way to spend the last 4 days of our 18 month trip. And one day we'll write about it or just stick some piccies up.

All I can say is that we are crap at spotting wildlife and a big thanks to the animals for walking across the road in front of us or we may never have seen you.

The final leg

Maputo, Mozambique to Nelspuit, South Africa

The story of a fairly crappy last border crossing journey which meant we spent the night at the side of the road in a broken down bus with no air-con! We may elaborate on this at some stage but as we'd probably rather just forget about it and get on with our lives, maybe we won't!

Cara

Yorkshiremen, Manks, whale sharks & mata rays

Tofo Beach, Mozambique

Just a taster as Mik definately needs to be the one to write about his whale sharks and amazing diving, but in the meantime....

How many elephants can you fit in a mini?

After the obligatory 30 minute wait for the minibus to fill every seat we left the town square of Inhambane. Only to go round the corner where two further ladies boarded the already full van. I had given up my seat at the front next to Mik to a lady and her baby as her kids had been perched on the wheel arches and I thought she might prefer to be near them. So I sat on one of the flip down seats which fills the aisle and was soon sharing this with another girl. We stopped again and the driver seemed to think we could fit a few more people in. By this stage I had two bottoms in my face and a lady hanging over me with a baby swinging horizontal in a papouss. Funny! Then the lady behind me grabbed my hair. Initially I wasn't sure if she was clinging on for dear life or if it was getting in her way. When she did it again and I turned to smile and see what the hell she was doing I found her examining it and making comments to those sat nearby in Portuguese. I couldn't understand her but it probably went along the lines of 'what strange hair these people have, and see how it splits at the ends' The guys next to her found it highly amusing and we all had a good giggle. I have to say that it was great entertainment for the 50 pence fare but it wasn't the most pleasant smelling bus ride I've ever been on, and when the lady next to me began breast feeding I was ready to get off.

Cara

Border crossings and crossed fingers

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

Sandunes and a Pale Moon Rising roadtrip

Write a wise saying and your name will live forever.
Anonymous

Mik will hopefully one day fill this bit in - it was fantastic so really deserves to be written well, otherwise I'd do it.

Giraffes are ace

Windhoek & Etosha National Park, Namibia

Namibia was for me probably the country I wanted to visit above all others - and not just because they have great cider!. Ever since I had seen a friend's photos of the Namib desert I really wanted to go. So although we were nearing the end of our trip, I was excited to finally get there. I am delighted to say that it exceeded all my expectations, and here's why.

After a long, but unexciting 20 hour bus journey from Cape Town, we arrived in the Namibian capital of Windhoek. In the late 19th century Namibia was colonised by ze Germans, and despite gaining independence almost half a century ago, there is still a heavy German influence. It was, however, controlled by South Africa until 1990 and subsequently English has become the official language. Most white Namibians speak either German or Afrikaans as their first language, while the African population speak their own tribal language as a first language. One of which is Damara with it's clicks and whistles, making it very difficult to learn. For us anyway!

Upon arrival we navigated our way round German named streets and found our way to our hostel. It was the one surrounded by by an electric fence and razor wire. I'm sure it was an effective way of keeping people from breaking in but it just didn't give you that warm fuzzy feeling of safety!

We spent a couple of days in Windhoek getting tours booked, and due to timings, we set out on a four day tour of Etosha National Park first. The desert, and my main reason for coming, would have to wait.

There were 7 people in our group and we all piled into our 4x4. After introductions we discovered that travelling with us were, a Canadian, a Chinese (now living in Canada) a Finn (now living in Tunbridge Wells) and a couple from Epsom. No language difficulties there then. It turned out be a great group and we all got on really well. It made the trip.

Now, being on a safari meant that we would be camping each night - something Mik and I had managed to avoid pretty well for the whole trip until now. It was a long drive up to the Park from Windhoek but the stop for lunch made it worth while and we realised there and then we had chosen a great tour company. Out came the camping chairs (which made excellent fart noises as you sat down), a table complete with table cloth and loads of lovely fresh breads, salads and meats. My favourite piece of equipment has to be the wash bowl, which was in fact a sack of plastic material hung around a small stand. Attached to the wash bowl was a bottle of liquid soap and a towel, so we could all wash our hands before eating. Simple things, simple minds.....

Joel was our driver and guide and he was accompanied by a camp assistant, a quiet man whose name none of us could remember so we just referred to him as 'yer man'. Upon entering the park, Joel slowed his speed right down so we could see if we could spot any animals on the way to camp. To be quite honest, I can't remember what we saw in that first hour, but I'll get to the wildlife soon, don't worry. We arrived at camp and set up our tents, and we were delighted to discover that they were longer than us, and we even had fairly thick mattresses to sleep on. Now that's my idea of camping!

The plan was to make our way through the park over the following three days, staying at three different camp sites and doing game drives during the day. Now as most wildlife gets out of the sun for the most part of the day, this meant the best times to see the animals was of course at dawn and dusk. This meant three 5.30am starts in a row - selfish animals. This turned out to be harder than anticipated as at each of the camps there were floodlit watering holes which would keep us from our beds at night.

On our first night, after a sumptuous dinner of BBQ lamb steaks, sausage and gem squash, we headed to the watering hole and waited patiently to see if anything would make an appearance. WE WERE SOOO LUCKY. As we sat there a black rhino came down and drank at his leisure from the pond. He eventually disappeared only to be followed in by another one. He in turn was followed in by two elephants. We all watched with baited breath. Then we got a real shock as the rhino turned to take on these two massive elephants. 'Pah' we thought, what do you think you are doing. But much to our surprise the elephants backed off. By this stage we are all silently screaming at the elephants to stop being such wimps and push on past the rhino. I mean, the rhino looked a fair size initially, but next to these elephants he was tiny by comparison. Eventually the elephants stood their ground and the rhino disappeared. Wow. By this time it was getting on for midnight so we headed back to our tents for a delicious 5 hours sleep.

The following morning we stopped at the watering hole briefly on our way out of camp and saw our first giraffe. I was over the moon as they are my favourites. There is just something about the way they move. So elegant. Not, however, when they are drinking. See photos. Despite looking all legs and neck it's amazing just how quickly they can pop back up to standing should they feel threatened. I was having a great day already, and it was only 7am.

We then set off to the next camp, doing our game drive along the way. Joel would drive around 40km/hour and the seven of us would constantly be scanning the roadside/horizon for wildlife. We had one of those cool trucks with the big pop up roofs so we'd stand on the seats and snap away without having to open a window. Not something you necessarily want to do when there are lions nearby! It was invariably Joel who spotted all the good stuff. I guess that was his job after all. When I had been on safari before I hadn't managed to see a lion so that was my main hope, aside from lots of giraffes obviously. Joel found us many lions. Big ones, cubs, two lazing close to the road and a few hiding from the sun under trees. God only knows how he saw them as most of the time the rest of us spotted the backside of a springbok (deer like animal found in their thousands in Etosha) or worse still, just a bush. We would swear that the shadow made by that tree over there was a rhino and that the bare branches of trees were in fact giraffe heads. Another animal which is very common in the park is the zebra. They are just little painted horses but not just black and white as you would expect. Many a time we confused them for something else as they can actually have brown stripes mixed in too. We saw hundreds of them and soon became blasé and barely even slowed down for them.

We saw zebra and springbok, gemsbok and impala, wildebeest and lions, tortoises and hyenas, and and spent ages watching beautiful giraffes munching on tree tops. Brilliant. That evening we once again went to the water hole and sat patiently waiting for the show to start. As if on cue a rhino appeared at 10pm, exactly the time we had seen one at the last camp. Maybe they think most people will have gone to bed by then. He was followed by a second rhino and they left together, as we watched for the rustle of bushes!

We were about to head for our tents when suddenly a massive old bull elephant wandered all the way round the watering hole and straight to the pipe pumping in the fresh water. I guess he'd been here before. The water pipe actually ran right past where we sat just 25 metres away from him, and we could hear him sucking away on the end. Very entertaining for the first 10 minutes but he was there for 45! He must have literally drunk twice his own body weight in water. In the meantime, however, a whole family of elephants hit the water hole. And I mean hit it. One minute the bull was alone, the next there were seventeen elephants drinking from the pond. They ran in like they hadn't had a drink for days (which we later found out was probably the case as they sometimes drink enough to last them three days - that would explain the bull's thirst) It was an incredible sight and I couldn't stop whispering 'oh wow' over and over again. The elephants all lined up, always protecting the babies on their inside. When they moved toward the old bull and tried to drink the fresher water with him they were shooed away. One elephant then wee'd at the waters edge close to the bulls coveted pipe in protest!

That family had had their fill and wandered off. Then another family of elephants showed up. Just six but still, we couldn't believe it. The show went on until well after midnight and we really had to drag ourselves away. On our way back to camp we also encountered an African wild cat and a massive scorpion. We were loving this safari lark.

Five hours of sleep later and we were up again taking down the tents, eating brekkie and off for our early morning drive to the last camp. It's hard to remember everything we saw but you get the gist of how our days were panning out. The highlight of the day came just as we set off that morning when Joel spotted a cheetah. Of course like most animals it turned and started to walk away from our truck. We snapped off pictures thinking we were lucky to even have caught a glimpse of one, when to our surprise he came back onto the road and continued to walk along it in front of us. Brilliant. The icing on the cake came when he walked nonchalantly over to a road sign, wee'd on it and sat down next to it. The sign read "SLOW. 40km/h" Now that's a kodak moment. The low light of Mik's day came when Joel spotted a rhino just about to cross the road as we came alongside it. He slammed on the brakes and as Mik had been squatting on his seat he was thrown forward and into the cool box. Would that be another broken rib? Luckily not but I'm guessing it was pretty painful. Just to help things along I accidentally stood in his crotch area when trying to get a photo of said rhino. Oops. They have a lot to answer for do rhinos!

Herds of elephants at a watering hole and loads more giraffes made our last day once again a ripper. The watering hole at the final camp was a bit of a let down though and despite Mike from Epsom swearing that he could see a rhino it really was just a bush. Still, the wine flowed (at £3.50 for 3 litres it was going to), we had another fantastic meal, and slept the last night in our tents.

Our drive out of the park on our way back to Windhoek allowed us another couple of hours of game spotting and as far as I recall the last animal we saw was a giraffe - highly fitting. We stopped for lunch on the roadside, visited a market where we were unfortunately pestered so much we left rather quickly, and finally reached the comfort of our hostel in the capital. We'd been given a fantastic room but I have to say I would have swapped it for my tent in an instant if I could have stayed in Etosha. It was one of the most amazing experiences ever and I loved every minute of it. Safari is a truly magical experience - when you get as lucky as we did. Thanks Chameleon and thanks to the guys on our tour. And of course a big thanks to the giraffes.

Cara

(we found out afterwards that a group behind us had not seen a single elephant - luck and a good guide really can make or break a safari - go Joel!)

Fish Tales, Tall Sails and Jumping Whales

"Only two things are infinite; the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former"
- Albert Einstein


Reader Warning: The following text has been vetted by experts, who judged it to be nothing more than thinly disguised nonsense padding out an overlong anecdote about a fish. Readers of a sophisticated nature may wish to skip over this entry to something written by Cara.



Cara insists that Cape Town is her favourite city in the world. Personally, I find this very difficult to believe as she has visited Leyland on several occasions and had more than sufficient opportunity to change her mind. This was my second visit to the city and, whilst I do like Cape Town, I haven't formed the kind of attachment to it that Cara evidently has. By the way, Cape Town is so called because it is a large town situated on the Cape of Good Hope. Very imaginative.

After making it out of Cape Town airport, we made our way into the city centre to a hostel that had been recommended to us by Ashleigh and Philip from Bangkok. We usually prefer places that have been recommended by friends, as this nearly always reduces the amount of time required wandering the streets with our bags, checking different accommodation options. We seemed to strike it lucky on this occasion too, as the hostel was in a great location on Long Street (possibly so named because it is a street and it is quite long) and the room was clean and comfortable. Unfortunately, we had handed over cash and unpacked by the time we realised that the hostel was built atop several nightclubs and bars. The music thumping through the floor until 4am was so loud that the bed shook and I lost two fillings. Luckily, we had realised what would happen and sedated ourselves heavily at one of the bars prior to going to bed. That, coupled with the jetlag, allowed us to sleep through the furore, save for the odd occasion when a particularly heavy bassline would vibrate Cara's earplugs right out of her head and tip me onto the floor. On the one evening the music finished early, we discovered the girl in the next room was a bit of a screamer, so it still turned into a boisterous night. Despite the pounding bass and headboard, Carnival Court Hostel still turned out to be a great place to stay. Just don't expect much sleep.

Over the course of the next few days, we ploughed through the usual tourist itinerary. We visited the waterfront and took the cable car to the top of Table Mountain (possibly so named because it is a mountain that has a flat top, like a table. Spot a pattern?). We even spotted a meditating monk atop a rocky outcrop. I'm not sure if he was there to attain enlightenment or to offer us a good photo opportunity, but he added a dash of colour to the proceedings and for that we are grateful. The weather was fantastic, hot and sunny without being oppressive, and we enjoyed walking the streets of the city. The food in Cape Town is great too, although you have to remember that I consider the chip to be the ultimate achievement of humanity, so always take my advice with a pinch of salt (and a splash of vinegar).

Sunday morning we took a walk up the hill to a small restaurant that had been recommended to us for breakfast. By some bizarre freak of nature, Arnold's Restaurant was able to provide us with a substantial and tasty fried breakfast for less money than it takes to operate a kettle for 10 seconds. Somewhat more bizarrely, we noticed that had we arrived between 7am - 7.30am, we could have enjoyed the same thing for five kettle seconds, but why would we ever consider getting up at that time? The place was packed and we sat at an outdoor table, watching the world go by and munching on eggs, bacon and ostrich sausages. After several months of scoffing rice and noodles, this cholesterol-laden, greasy, treat was very welcome.

On my previous visit to Cape Town, some years ago, I had travelled down the coast to the small fishing village of Gaansbai. There is nothing remarkable about the town itself, yet people flock here from all four corners of our round, cornerless planet. The cause of all this flocking lies just a few miles offshore, in the waters around Dyer Island. You see, Gaansbai is perhaps the world's most popular destination to get up close and personal with great white sharks. Hmmm, deliberately jumping into water you know to contain large numbers of the world's biggest, marine predator. Surely this can be considered the stupidest activity on earth? After blowing up your own head, obviously. These huge fish have been protected in the waters around South Africa since 1991 and the growing population of this migratory hunter regularly hunt the seal colonies around Dyer Island. The best time to sea them, unfortunately, is in the winter, when food resources are low and they can be easily attracted to the boat. During the summer months, specifically now, the sharks show a sneering disdain for all things boat-like and seldom stick around for long. Despite the poor odds, both Cara and I wanted to give it a try and see what would happen. The last time I was hear, a large, intimidating shark tried to stick his snout into the cage a matter of inches from my head and a second shark managed to tear the cage door from its hinges while two young men cowered inside it. I had my fingers crossed for a repeat performance. I don't think Cara was feeling the same way.

On the drive down from Cape Town, we stopped in a picturesque little seaside town called Hermanus for a spot of whale-watching. During the summer months, southern right whales congregate in the large bay to breed and the males can often be spotted leaping out of the water in what are probably the cetacean equivalent of juvenile pissing competitions. Mothers with young calves tend to stay closer to the shore as they like to pose for photographs with the little ones. It has been documented that southern right whales are notoriously proud parents. If we ever discover a way to communicate with these fish, I'm sure each parent would tell us how little Eric was very bright for his age.

Despite arriving in early summer, the waters around the Cape coast were very, very cold. I usually make a point of not taking a dip in anything less than 28 degrees centigrade, but this was much lower. It was cold enough to make a grown man do a chimpanzee impression without feeling self-conscious, and we were expected to spend a good time in the water. After chugging out to what the skipper considered a good spot, we moored up and a crew member chummed the water with some fish heads and arse-cheeks to attract in the sharks. We didn't have long to wait for a very big fish to arrive. It kindly cruised alongside the boat, just to give us a good sense of scale, and I remembered Roy Scheider's immortal words from the first Jaws film, "We're gonna need a bigger boat!". The first fee-paying sharkbait donned their wetsuits and flopped into the now flimsy-looking cage. The skipper tried his best to draw the big female toward the boat, but the shark was not really interested and just stuck around to see if one of us was foolish enough to fall into the water. We weren't and it eventually lost interest and left. Thus began the pattern of the day. The folks in the tin can soon became tired and cold and clambered out for a cup of tea and a biscuit (Oh, I can feel the tension building!). It was our turn.

My wetsuit looked like two dogs had fought over it and smelled like the winner had marked his territory in the traditional manner. My mask was cracked, it bent my nose into my eye socket and mould was growing on the inside of it. As I eased myself into the water, the patchy wetsuit flooded and made my eyeballs roll back in my head. How cold was it? I was going to tell you that my scrotum contracted so quickly it catapulted by balls into my armpits, but that would be in poor taste, so I won't. Despite all this, there was nowhere else on the planet I would rather have been at that minute. But there you go; I always was a shark geek.

As the minutes passed, we all concentrated on staving off hyperthermia. The previous shark had definitely left the building and nobody else had yet taken to the stage. I knew that I could keep going on sheer enthusiasm alone. In fact, they would probably have to drag me out of the water by the earlobes when it was time to leave, or maybe just leave me behind. Cara was fairing pretty well, too. Apart from the loud chattering of teeth and wide-eyed, what-the-fuck-am-I-doing-in-a-cage-waiting-for-great-white-sharks-to-open-it-like-a-tin-of-sardines expression she was wearing, obviously. We made ourselves comfortable and settled in for the duration.

All of a sudden nothing happened, and I could actually hear the willpower of our caged colleagues crack and tumble into the frigid waters (although it could have been a fart in a wetsuit. I'm no expert). Nothing continued to happen, repeatedly. The others exited the cage to make way for more enthusiastic fools looking to dissipate body heat. Cara and I stuck to our guns and stayed where we were. We had come for great white sharks and sharks we would have. By this stage, nothing was happening so frequently that when something did happen, we almost missed it. I was engrossed in a particularly long period of inactivity when suddenly the skipper yelled for us to get under the water. By some freakishly anti-Darwinian reflex action, I had filled my lungs and plunged into the murky water before the sentence was even out of his mouth. With my eyes fixed on the green haze before me, my frozen fingers fumbled with the buttons of the underwater camera housing.

Not much more than an arms length outside the cage, a dark shape appeared out of the gloom and resolved itself into a bulky white shark. The body was grey and smooth, fat with the bodies of young seals and fish. The black, humourless eye regarded us with a predatory, primitive stare, a bit like Cara with a credit card and a shoe catalogue. It glided impressively in front of us and toward the bait line. Within just a few seconds it was gone, returned once more to the murky deep. We bobbed back to the surface and sucked in the air hungrily, even though we had only been underwater for about four seconds (I need more exercise!). I checked the camera to see what shots we had taken, but found only some photos showing a blank green space and a technically adept video of Cara's left armpit. Not technically what I was hoping for, adept or otherwise.

We had been in the water so long that I had lost all sensation between my knees and nipples. This may sound unimportant, but for a guy, any area of numbness which incorporates the genital region demands your immediate attention. I was becoming concerned that any future Michael Junior was about to turn into Frosty The Snowman. Then I remembered that we had mortgaged the rights to our first born child to partly finance this trip, and that any behavioural difficulties brought about by refrigerated gonads would be somebody else's responsibility. After that I relaxed a little. No more sharks appeared that afternoon, so we took a quick tour around nearby Seal Island to better catch a whiff of their overpowering poo, then headed ashore to formulate our boastful anecdotes about fending off enormous sea monsters. By the time we arrived back in Cape Town, we were both ready for a pint.

One benefit of staying on the busy Long Street was that our hostel was immediately above an Irish pub. Drinking ice cold draught Guinness for less than thrumfty pennies a pint ensured that we rarely strayed far away in the evenings. We even dined there on a few occasions. The food was mediocre at best, but after dropping in for a few pints 'on the way past', we lacked the compunction to keep moving and planted ourselves in a corner table for the duration of the evening. On the Sunday evening, a live jazz band was playing. Although the music was a bit 'zibbedy dooh wah, bazabaddy bow wow bink' for my liking, we still had a great night and the atmosphere was excellent. There are few post-pub experiences more pleasurable than standing up on wobbly legs after too many beers and realising that you only have to walk four yards home.

The next morning we took a trip over to Robben Island, the former penal colony where many of the Apartheid-era political prisoners were kept. After a ninety minute ferry ride, we were transferred to a bus and driven around the island to see the various buildings that made up the prison, during which time a disinterested lady gave us a capsule commentary on what each building was used for and how it was being utilised today. After our whistle-stop tourbus ride, we were shown into the former maximum security compound and given a very interesting tour by a former political prisoner, whose name I won't attempt to spell. After showing us around the various parts of the complex, our guide talked about the daily life of the the prisoners, and it did not sound pleasant. At the end of the tour, our guide made a point of telling us all that despite the incarceration, forced hard labour, starvation and torture, he and his fellow prisoners no longer held grudges against their former captors, and wished to keep the prison open as a museum out of a spirit of reconciliation. At this point I wondered whether he truly felt that way, or if maybe that was just the politically motivated spin being put on the face of New South Africa. I'm fairly confident that if it were me in his shoes, I'd be looking to bang some heads together by now. But maybe that's just me. I'm sure their sentiments are sincere!

We managed only a couple of pints that night as we were heading off early the next morning for Windhoek in Namibia, a mere 25 hours away by bus.

Mik

P.S. I know whales are not fish, so please don't write to correct me. I was also lying about the evidence of their parental pride, too. You just can't trust a word that comes out of my mouth, can you?

P.S.2. - Despite mentioning in the opening paragraph that Cape Town is not my favourite city, I still managed to write several thousand words of bollocks about the place. Still, I had to somehow justify the three months it took to write

3rd time even luckier

Singapore - again!

We were catching our flight to South Africa from Singapore so we visited it for the third time and once again took advantage of Rob's hospitality. We also made sure we were there for a Sunday as we wanted to visit one of the Sunday Brunches run at the large hotels. Rob booked us into one at the Hyatt which served a buffet brunch washed down with as much Taittinger champagne as you could drink! Bring it on.

It was a huge splurge for us and Rob had to keep reminding us what a bargain it was in the non backpacker world. We did however want to get our money's worth and were there at 11.30am for the start.

I don't really know where to begin, oh yes I do, we were seated and within 3 seconds a waiter appeared and asked us if we would like some champagne. Silly question. Being our cynical selves we had assumed we would have to be calling waiters over and waiting ages for our glasses to be topped up. This wasn't the case. In fact, every time we took a sip the man appeared and filled our glasses. Brilliant!

Just so as the champagne wouldn't go straight to our heads we tried a few bits (code for 'everything') from the buffet. And I know we talk about food a lot but this was spectacular. Sushi, fresh oysters, lobster, prawns, French cheeses, Japanese tepanyaki, Chinese stirfry and roast lamb and beef complete with yorkshire puddings! Who knew champagne went so well with Aunt Bessie's finest.

But that was not the end. They also had a huge range of desserts but I knew where I was headed - the chocolate fountain! I was straight in there with my strawberries and marshmallows. Unfortunately I was getting a little full by this stage so I didn't do the desserts justice. We all did, however, do justice to the champagne, and drank more than the cost of the brunch alone. We were also the last to leave having made sure we got our final top up just before they stopped serving. What a fantastic way to spend a Sunday. Being old codgers we then headed home and went straight to bed for a nap. Rob however went straight out to a party.

The other other different thing we did compared to our other visits was to hook up with Jake and Catherine. These were the friends we had stayed with in Saigon at the very beginning of our trip. They had recently relocated to Singapore and it was great to catch up with them and their daughter Lily Mei, a Vietnamese orphan they adopted just after we left Vietnam last year. What a cutie.

The day after we went out for dinner with them we bid our final farewells to Rob and caught our flight to Cape Town. Cheers Rob.

And what a flight that was.....!
It started at take off when the plane shook and made so much noise that I convinced myself we wouldn't make it higher than 20 feet. In fact I hoped we wouldn't as I didn't have a lot of faith in the plane. But we kept climbing and eventually the shaking stopped.

Then we hit the turbulence and this lasted for approximately 80% of the flight. To the extent that once, when I had managed to fall asleep it woke me and had Mik reaching over to tell me everything was going to be alright. I have definitely become a very poor flier over the years. Still, Singapore Airlines do have a fantastic in-flight entertainment system so although I didn't get much sleep I did watch a few films.

All this was made worse by the fact that an elderly man sitting just 2 rows behind me was suddenly taken very ill. I turned around when I heard a commotion and saw him. To be quite honest, I thought he had died. He hadn't, and luckily (as always seems the case) there were doctors on board who could help. They even called doctors on the ground to try and work out what they should do. I then checked the flight path map and realised we were over the middle of the Indian Ocean and that the nearest land mass was Mauritius. I was convinced we would be landing there. We didn't and the man made it through the flight. Unfortunately for him we heard that he had no travel insurance as he was over the age limit. This was the first question the medical staff asked once we had landed in Cape Town. Poor guy.

I was delighted to get off that plane. We'd made it to Cape Town. What a relief.

Cara