This trip stems from a promise that El (my better half) and I had made to ourselves - when her exams were over we would take off for a while, travel the world, have a little fun. The aim was to do a wide variety of stuff – some touristy things, some mountains, see some friends and family. Most of this journal dates from notes I took in the evening - I have allowed hindsight to creep in in some places though...

Quite a contrast to yesterday as we drive northwards into the wine producing area of the cape. The weather is still diabolical but the vines set against the background of the mountains, with the Cape Dutch architecture as a bonus, is very pretty.

We try a few wines, admire the wine houses and have a fancy lunch – roast springbok for me and shark for El. We meet some more of Marilie's friends, a real man, proudly incapable of making his own toast and his rather chilly wife, and another couple who had also got engaged on Table Mountain a few weeks earlier, who are friendlier.

With the last of the light we go and see the other side of the mountain. We stop at a place called Llandudno and there are a few similarities with the Welsh version – big cliffs, seaside town, fish and chips and a high crime rate. Not so many unemployed Scousers though. One more posh meal in the evening - a bit much for us really as weve got used to both a simple social life and simple food in Tanzania. Still we've had a good look at a certain slice of the Cape Town social scene, a way of life that I suspect has been little affected by the end of apartheid.

A long bus day and night awaits us so we scrutinise our vehicle with particular interest. It's comfy enough and, a bonus, half empty. We head out through the suburbs and back through wine country as the countryside gets steadily drier and emptier eventually giving way to semi-desert, red soil and rocky outcrops. No luck with the onboard films. October Sky is just about bearable but Flipper the Dolphin the movie is truly diabolical.

Near the frontier the scenery is very beautiful. Listening to Massive Attack on the Walkman as the the sun goes down, giving the rocks a fiery red glow, is not bad at all. Unfortunately, just as we're geting sleepy we have to to troop off to go through SA and Namibian immigration. On the Namibian side things rapidly descend into farce as a punctilious immigration officer insists on having a destination for every passenger, including those heading for a farm in the middle of nowhere. Back on the bus and we semi-doze at it stops at various one cactus towns before the arrival at Windhoek.

Our latest backpackers hostel is located in the suburbs of Windhoek West and it requires a bit of exploration to get to the centre. All in all, Windhoek is not the most attractive town we have been to. El comments that it looks like Playmobile land and there certainly is a blocky feel to it. After another attempt to see if theres a simple way to get by public transport to Botswana (there isn't), we explore the town, not a lengthy task. In front of the President's residence are many motorcycle cops, waiting for something or someone, probably the President I suppose. There are some colonial period villas but they're really not that impressive and at the very top of the posh part is a good view over Windhoek, seemingly well appreciated by Namibian youth if the number of empty whisky bottles are anything to go by.

On our way back we regret our haste in zipping round the streets of Windhoek west – they were all named after musicians and we can't remember if we need Bach street, Beethoven street or Wagner street... We get lost in the dusk and after asking an elderly German, two security guards and a handful of students, none of whom have the slightest, we eventually get our bearings on our own. Night has by now fallen so were happy to be back inside and cooking our noodles.

We opt for the local minibus to the coach, which is a good decision as it is both cheaper, friendlier and only averagely crowded. Safety is the obvious downside, especially in the front seats which have a good view but no seatbelt - ejection from the vehicle via the front windscreen seems almost guaranteed in the event of a crash at the steady 130kmh the driver is maintaining. In order to keep the driver awake, very loud music is played permanently. This starts off pleasantly enough with country and western as we head through the Namib desert/Arizona with the cacti and the red sand. Despite the music, as we near Swakopmund the driver looks like he is going to drop off, which at the speed we are going is not a good idea. El hatches the cunning plan of playing the dumb tourist and asking him lots of questions about the various landmarks around us.

Various comic incidents keep us amused during the trip. First the driver decides to drive through a tape blocking off a road in order to avoid the hassle of a three point turn. This earns him an ear bashing from an angry and ugly Boer lady while the driver does his best very sorry face. 100km further down the road the back drops off the trailer with the luggage in. Nobody notices until five minutes later when we're overtaken by a car. He goes back for it, to find it neatly sitting in the left hand lane.

Swakopmund itself is a curious place. Very German, very ordnung with its neatly painted houses and its kaffee und kuchen places. Its not often you can eat a black forest gateau in 35 degree heat while contemplating dunes and desert. There's even a pier/jetty although this seems to be falling down. There are also some very red Germans around, a reminder of the strength of the desert sun.

We are staying in a hostel called The Alternative Space, which certainly lives up to its name. As it's too small to be legally registered as a hotel under Namibian law, you stay as a 'friend' and make a 'contribution'. In addition the whole place has been designed by its architect owner, even down to the shower, open air and screened by rocks and plants. And of course there aren't many hotels where artistic photos of the wife of the owner naked adorn the walls... It's a friendly place and we have some interesting conversations with Frenus and Sybille over the three nights we stay there.

Time Out in Africa

Archive

sprout

08.04.04 Front Page

Back Issue Page