África de cabo a rabo

So after a couple of weeks in the south of the country we waited for Ainhoa, Itziar’s sister, to come and head then to the north. It was great to have her with us but not only because she came loaded with jamón and chorizo. We did not think the same the day of her arrival: at 3am we woke up to collect her from he airport. Very practical arrival time, really: everyone is annoyed, both passengers and people waiting for them. Not the taxi drivers, of course, that triple their rates…

We allowed Ainhoa to get contaminated one day in the city, browsed with her through the incredible market of Dantopka and ate fairly decent street food before heading to Nattitingou, the capital of the northern region.

According to the guide it should have taken 8 hours. According to the company, 10. But the reality is that it took 15 to get there. Luckily we were in Comfort Lines, which was a too optimistic name for the bus, although to be true we each had one seat for ourselves, no need to share it with anybody else. The journey was interesting as we went from the greeny south to the drier and dustier north, although the country, or at least that road, is nothing special: nature is boring, as there are no mountains or nothing to make every one of the 500 kilometres a bit different from the previous one… Always interesting are the bus stops, where food and drinks sellers push each other to be the ones selling first their products to the passangers getting off the bus. In one we bought some barbaqued meat. In another a baguette with avocado, egg, fish and spicy tomato sauce. In another a mini pineapple, which was pure juice although a bit tasteless. In another a chocolate icecream frozen inside a plastic bag. It is always exciting to try to guess what you will be able to find in the next stop…

Natitingou offered nothing but logistical comforts. There we rented a car, hired a guide and set off to visit the Pendjari National Park, apparently the best park in the whole West Africa. The car was really cool: it was a 4×4 and on the roof it had attached a 3-seater bench, so once inside the park we could seat on the roof and watch the animals from there. The two days in the park were fun, that is the truth, but the king was missing when we left. We visited after the wet season had finished so the grass was really high, too high too see anything in most of the park. Probably that is why we saw so many elephants: they were easily visible over the grass and many birds flying all around. But also hippos and crocodiles in ponds, warthogs and loads of juicy antelopes waiting to be eaten by the wild lion in front of our eyes… but did not happen.

The park itself was really cool and wild. With only dirty tracks on it and a few cars searching for animals, we felt very unique, alone, remote. Only when arriving to the hotel located right in the middle of the park, completely covered in dust, we would see other whites. Most of them where there for the Christmas holidays. Yeah, Christmas… as many have asked, we spent our Xmas eve there and Xmas lunch too, at 35ºC in the shade… It was nice and special for us: we sat on the floor, got the jamón, chorizo and cheese, open a couple of baguettes and enjoyed a simple but rewarding dinner: last time we had eaten those was months ago… We even got turrón, a spanish season dessert… what else could we ask for? (the answer is… cheap beers!!).

Leaving the park was sad as we had not seen the lion (a thing that Ainhoa really wanted to) but we stopped at Abiba’s homestay to get our good mood back. Her house was located in the village of Tanongou, right by the park entrance. We had already slept a night at her place the night before entering the park and we decided that her chicken with peanut sauce was so good that we had to repeat again there. An local NGO has set up this ecotourism project in the village: they have chosen and prepared 5 family homes for tourists to stay at. This way you enter a home and stay the night with a family, at their place. They had arranged a room for us, and we even had our private organic toilet and bucket shower. Once we entered we were greeted by many children… they explained us that they belong to two different women, that share the husband. He lives in one room, each of the wives in a different and separate room, and the children, according to their ages, either in the mother’s room or on their own. Each wife had its own kitchen and, of course, only cooks for her children and the husband, that gets food from both. It was a great opportunity, albeit short, to sample how people live: no electricity (no television!), no running water, woodfire to cook… and the orchestra of animals playing at night: the sheep, the dog, the cow, the chicken and the cock…

The final day we visited the region which is full of “tata somba”, castel-like houses, built in mud. Incredibly they have two floors, leaving the lower one for the animals and the higher for the family and the maize, millet and corn grains. When we asked the guide he said they were built like this to repel wild animal attacks. If you read the guide it says it was to protect agains other tribes attacks. Either one or the other, the dangers are long gone today, so most of the families that can afford it live in “normal” squared one-floor houses, with corrugated iron ceiling. Much more practical, indeed. I would do the same, and as the family we visited, preserve the old one: tourists might come to visit and pay for it, so it is worth it.

So here we are. For the first time writing in English for our worldwide followers and fans, concerned about our safety and sake. After writing it in English, we will translate it into Spanish with Google Translator and see what our Spanish fellows understand of it all. So, English speakers, this goes for you!

Finally we left Cape Town. It was a hard decision. We were so happy at Miquel and Eva’s place that we did not want to leave. It was almost like being home. We were cooking our own food everyday, having hot showers, having breakfast in a lovely garden overlooking Table Mountain… enjoying the comforts of life…

But we decided we wanted to see the country and we moved, by bus, on to Swellendam. Four hours or so of a 5 seater per row bus was not a so exciting thing. They showed a shitty movie although we crossed through beautiful landscape: wine states, mountains, loads of agricultural lands and saw cows, sheep and… ostriches!

Swellendam was like a German village just on the foots of huge mountains. It had so many churches that we almost could not count them all. The ratio church/people probably was about one church per 100 people… but even more guesthouses, all set in lovely and beautiful gardens, in cosy and well preserved german-looking buildings… It was all so clean, neat, cosy, perfect… pink, really pink… cheesy and tacky!!!! Of course blacks lived a few kilometres from the centre, in the township, far away from the European people (that is how white people used to called themselves, to differentiate from blacks and coloured people).

One day stop and continued next morning onto Knysna, passing through more fields, mountains and free range pastures for cows, sheep and, again, ostriches with their funny looks. Knysna is not famous for their churches (which they have a lot of them too) but for their oysters, which are cultivated on a lake. Obviously we had to try them (they were one euro per oyster) but according to the Seafood Master Itziar they do not live up to their fame. For me it was the second time I tried them in my whole life and… well, i was not too excited about their taste really… We have to say we also ate fish and chips at a supermarket, so it is not that we are becoming sibarites… We spent as well one night there, good time to realise that in this country, without a car, you are nobody. We are the only people walking everywhere and, unfortunatelly, like it was this case, the main attractions are not near the town, so we had to skip them… (I said we are the only people walking… it is not true. We are the only whites walking!! Blacks also walk everywhere!!! We are starting to understand the faces of sadness in the white drivers when they see us walking… they might be thinking “poor guys, they are poor and have to walk…”. We tell you, white South Africans do not walk!!) Not having a car is also annoying (as we do not want to pay taxis all the time): the bus stops are always on the outer centre of the city, so we are doing quite a lot of walk with our backpacks…

And the third move in the week was to get to Jeffreys Bay. A shorter 2 hours bus drive this time to get to the coast, famous worldwide (apparently) for the Supertube waves, which is one of the best in the world to surf in. The truth is that we have spent two days in this ugly and characterless town full of Billabong and Quiksilver shops because of the great and fantastic B&B that we found, with its cute and green garden, full of shade, its hammocks, its laid back and homely feel, the “take as many beers as you like and pay later” attitude… and, well, yes, surf. Today Pablo went surfing. 8am for a two hours lesson… reports have told us that he was so succesful that he went on a second two hours course to practice. He claims he can stand up quite regularly although the board he is using is like a war ship: almost nothing can turn it upside down…

But don’t you think we are just relaxing and enjoying, at 04:45 AM we are getting off of our pleasant B&B to catch a probably crowded and stinky bus that will take us to the Wild Coast (check your maps and keep logged! More entries in English to come!)