Out of Africa

Africa is one of those places that conjures up many images in one’s mind, and for the average American, most of the images are probably bad ones. If we just pause for one second to think about what we ingest from the news about Africa, it entails political unrest, famine, and AIDS. And if you don’t follow any news, the only time the average American cares about Africa, is when it directly affects them. Remember about three years ago when it turned out that two or three people flew to the U.S., but were diagnosed with ebola? The mighty brave and tough United States just about descended into chaos. When Nicole and I flew to New Jersey a couple weeks later, people were flabbergasted how we could even bring ourselves to board an airplane. It was a missed opportunity to use ebola as an excuse to get out of a trip to New Jersey. Anyway, I will not for a minute attempt to argue that I’m so much more “woke” about Africa, or somehow better, just because I spent a couple weeks there, but I will try to dispel some myths and share a few  observations I made during my very brief time there.  

 First, Africa is not just one thing. It is obviously a collection of very different cultures ranging from Islamic/Middle-Eastern in the north to a shockingly European feel in the south. The Africa that Americans tend to focus on is “scary Africa” (known to Americans through the lens of Blackhawk Down, Hotel Rwanda, Gorillas in the Mist, Captain Phillips, or Invisible Children [Remember all that fuss about #Kony2012? Yeah, nothing ever happened with that]). Then there’s the white person’s romanticized and exotic version of Africa (as seen through the lens of Casablanca, Out of Africa, The English Patient, and let’s throw in Zulu just to impress my father). As a result, I tell people I’m going to Africa, and the reaction is a mix of awe and horror. Then tell them you’re renting a car in Namibia, and the response is, “WHAT?! . . . Where’s Namibia?” I’m sure our itinerary sounded much more exotic to those not actually taking part in it. As much as I’d like to see myself as a rugged Indiana Jones-type whose survival instincts in the deserts of Southern Africa could impress even Bear Gryllz, the truth is quite far from that. If we blew a tire on the many unpaved desert roads of Namibia, I most definitely would have pulled up a YouTube video to figure out how to put on the spare. Perhaps my biggest challenge in the desert was sitting by the pool with a beer trying to connect to a decent Wi-Fi signal.  There is a large chasm that exists between perception and reality when it comes to Africa.

 Let’s go to the beginning, and to Cape Town. People (including myself) perceive the cities of South Africa to be a hive of crime. This is not necessarily untrue, but it is worth noting that thanks to the GOP and political arm of the NRA, people regard Chicago as a pretty terrifying place, and we were also there for a couple days at the beginning of our trip without giving it any thought. Unlike Chicago, however, Cape Town had a very strong security presence. People hoping to visit our hotel’s rooftop bar were basically interrogated before being allowed to access the elevator. The hotel’s own guidebook basically said not to answer your own door for any reason (what about housekeeping?), and shuttles were provided to the popular V&A Waterfront so as to avoid walking on the scary streets. So, a little about all this . . . Cape Town does have issues with crime, BUT I do think everything is a bit overblown as far as the threat to the average tourist. There are certain districts that are known for crime, and certain ones that are not. Manhattan Beach on L.A.’s westside is not the same as South Central, but Cape Town seems to be approaching the issue like they are. With any city, there’s a certain element of common sense and calculated risk that goes along with traveling; but perhaps Cape Town is taking the conservative approach and assuming that everyone is either an idiot or that a 0% risk of being victim to petty crime is infinitely preferable to a 2% risk. There’s almost more a perception of crime than there is actual crime. And again, I understand Cape Town is not the safest city in the world, but neither is it as dangerous as it would lead one to believe. With all this fear mongering, it did kind of get to our heads, and we wondered if it was ok to walk around the Bo Kaap neighborhood near our hotel. We could see a fair number of other people exploring the area from our balcony, so we figured it was safe enough. And ultimately, with the Duke and Duchess of Sussex making an arrival that afternoon, we figured security would at least be on hand for them. If there ever was a time to commit a crime, however, it would have been just prior to Prince Harry and Meghan’s arrival as the crowds became quite dense. Never did we feel unsafe during this time. Anyway point being, District Six or some of the unofficial settlements are associated with crime, but a place like the V&A Waterfront with its microbrew pubs and upscale seafood restaurants should really not be thrown into the same category. Apartheid has clearly had some lasting impacts on the populous, and there’s a high level of distrust between people with increased levels of poverty, crime, and AIDS occurring very clearly on racial lines. Nearly every house had a security system and often some “extras” such as electric fences or high cement walls. For one, it’s not aesthetically pleasing. House Hunters International would really struggle with that kind of style. Furthermore, the end of apartheid was not that long ago, and it will take a long time to heal those wounds. When we were out, we typically saw whites hanging out with other whites, blacks with blacks. There wasn’t a huge amount of mixing, though both groups have to interact with each other on a daily basis. I do believe that there will be a point in our lifetimes when South Africa will no longer be known as the place where one in three women has been victim to sexual assault. And to really drop a bombshell, South Africa is not the world’s capital of rape. They are number two to none other than the United States of America.

As we flew north to Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe, we encountered the Africa that is heavily tourist-driven. The infrastructure present in areas like Chobe National Park in Botswana or Victoria Falls is far beyond what one might expect in other so-called developing countries. Here we encountered our fellow tourist — well-to-do, white, tilly hat equipped, and an average age of 65. Nearly everyone was on some kind of tour. It became very clear to us that the vast majority of people do Africa this way, but it can get very expensive. The entire town of Victoria Falls is essentially a money pit for tourists. When you think Zimbabwe, you don’t think $25 for a tree ornament, but the town knows its audience. Entry to Victoria Falls was $30 per person. A day trip to Chobe cost us each $170. Even hawkers on the street were trying to sell me old hyperinflated Zimbabwean currency used under President Mugabe. I was admittedly interested in getting some billion dollar Zim notes, but knowing that it’s literally worth nothing made it difficult to spend $10 for a worthless piece of paper from a street vendor. But at the same time, you’ve got to hand it to them. With the hyperinflation, those billion and trillion dollar notes were probably worth pennies when they were new, so holding on to them and unloading them on tourists for $10 is quite a coup. Yet something even more bizarre occurred the day we were walking between Zimbabwe and Zambia. Various vendors had set up on the bridge knowing that people would be transiting between the two sides of Victoria Falls. Most were peddling various statuettes of hippos or elephants, and while we politely said we weren’t interested, their tactics shifted to a possible trade. Not one, but multiple vendors tried to trade me something for a pen. A PEN! While it’s perhaps good to know that a small statue of a giraffe is of equal or lesser value than a pen, I don’t think I’ve found in any of my travels that someone was willing to actually make a trade. Later on, another gentleman had his eyes on the hand sanitizer in a mesh pocket of my camera bag. When he offered to trade for it, I could sense Nicole in silent peril over the prospect of me giving up something very dear to her. With more than nine days of our trip remaining (and at least 30 hand washings), I politely declined, and we were left alone. I did feel a little bad, and later on some people just straight up said they were hungry and wanted some money for lunch. This segues nicely into my next topic: the white savior industrial complex.  

I don’t know a ton of people who have been to Africa, but compared to other regions of the world, there seems to be a higher incidence of people going there on “mission.” I recently spoke with one such individual who had gone to Kenya to . . .build wheelchairs. Now, the wheelchairs (or wheelchair parts) were not brought over from the United States, they were already in Kenya. And I feel as though building a wheelchair is not something that requires importing a grey-haired white man for its construction, but then again I’ve never “built” a wheelchair as you say. Nevertheless, I’m sure this gentleman felt quite good about himself. He claims his teenage children were very moved by the experience, and want to go back to “help” again. Sure, the sentiment is admirable. The desire to help other people who are less fortunate or less mobile is much preferred to telling them it’s their own fault that they can’t walk. BUT, this cycle is actually doing more harm than good. Corrupt governments enjoy this because it means they don’t have to actually do any sort of meaningful reforms, and can line their own pockets with (hyperinflated?) money that should be used for social and economic improvement projects. While at the tail end of our trip to Botswana, an elderly couple was talking about a village tour they did out of Victoria Falls. They were really raving about how the people did a whole dance to “welcome” them to the village. As it was explained to us, the children were very grateful for the $1 bills that the couple handed out. The couple continued to say how it was very interesting to see how people actually lived and made a living. I think Nicole and I were probably thinking the same thing — that this was a tour that people paid $70 a head to take part in. The tours go to the same village every day. I’m not saying the same woman making a clay pot in the village gets into a Landrover at the end of the day, but the whole setup seems suspicious. It reminds me of the Hutong Tour in Beijing, where I was taken to a school where children sang to me, drew me a picture, and we were then welcomed into a resident’s house, which amazingly happened to be the same house that I could see in three other friends pictures on facebook, who also visited the Hutong. Anyway, we were told by the couple that the village tour was great and it was wonderful to see how appreciative the villagers were with their arrival. Cool. As The Onion once said, “6-Day Visit to Rural African Village Completely Changes Woman’s Facebook Profile Picture.” And that’s all I’ve got to say about that.  

As we finally made our way to Namibia, we felt that we had gained a bit of independence as we now had our own transportation. We could pull over whenever we wanted. However, this was Namibia, and there was really nothing to pull over for. It is one of the least densely populated places on the planet and it was very apparent. To stop for snacks, we simply pulled over to the side of the unpaved road with nothing but desert for hundreds of miles. But the lack of people, major cities, and conveniences had its charms. When we arrived at Namib-Naukluft National Park, we could see stars in a volume we may never see again. In the past, I have found myself in places like Monument Valley or the Cook Islands where I could use my phone app and figure out where the Milky Way was supposed to be, point my camera in that direction, shoot a 30-second exposure and say, “Look, I can see the milky way in this picture!” In the Namib, all you had to do was look up — it was plainly visible to the naked eye. While our cameras did a decent job of capturing the night sky, they can’t replicate that feeling of “wow” from actually being present in such a surreal setting. Later on in Etosha, Nicole and I were in awe at the volume of animals we encountered. Unfortunately, not everyone seemed to be as impressed, since they were evidently just working on their "Big Five" checklists. Safari trucks were pulling up next to massive herds of zebras and driving off seconds later as if they were nothing. Can a safari still be a success without seeing the "Big Five?" If you're leading a tour group, apparently not. I'm glad we could set our own pace and enjoy what was right in front of us instead of chasing something that may not have even been there. 

In the past, I have talked at length about my overall disdain for social media influencers and instagram “models.” There’s just something about not looking at the camera (but also knowing that a camera is there) that ignites a fury in me. While we were in Namibia, I don’t think we saw a single influencer. Why is this? Well, Namibia probably hasn’t caught on yet as a tourist destination. Secondly, everything is hard to get to. It’s not like Bali, where Ubud is very social-media friendly, and places are tailor-made for these types of people. Just getting to the Namib took four and a half hours of driving on unpaved roads. And once there, the photographic opportunities were present, but only for those with some knowledge of actual cameras. Those star photos of Nicole and I holding each other would probably be an influencer’s dream shot, but your average insta-model is equipped with just an iPhone and a ring light which under ideal circumstances might capture the moon (faintly). We have perhaps reached a point of peak travel “influencing," when more people are traveling than ever before. Yet travel is being ruined by those who are attempting to portray, in one low resolution photo, a feeling, a lifestyle, or an ideal that simply does not exist.

When we were hiking over to Deadvlei in the Namib Desert, there wasn't a marked trail or anything resembling a path. I asked a young lady nearby if she had some knowledge of the path, as I didn't want to climb a 500 ft dune and get my shoes full of sand if I didn't have to. She was nice enough and shared what she thought the route was, but I was a bit surprised to see she was wearing fashionable sandals. It's like desert 101 that you don't wear sandals. Forget the traction and mobility issues, the sand can get really hot! Anyway, after this encounter we never saw her again. We forged on ahead, and I can only imagine that there is a bleached pile of bones and designer sandals baking in the desert sun of the Namib right now. This was a rare encounter in Namibia for many reasons. One, she was under 60. Two, she wasn't wearing the signature Columbia travel pants and adventuring hat. Where does she get off? While she was a rarer sight than a cheetah, she is like the canary in the coal mine of what could be. I don't have enough instagram followers (or influence) to matter, but someone else might. Then it's only a matter of time before a swarm of 150 influencers are all posing contemplatively, gazing away from the camera, duck lips on point, Chinese tour group cleverly cropped out of frame. Photography by nature is a bit of a deception. The photographer only shows what they would like you to see, and that's understandable. But a simple deception from an instagram account with a million followers can lead to thousands wanting to replicate the exact same shot for their own followers (even if that shot is dishonest). Because for many, it's not even about visiting a place or experiencing it, but rather about showing other people that you visited the place. This leads to a very damaging cycle of disingenuous instagram posts enticing others to get the same shot. All of a sudden, the highly sought after photo site becomes overwhelmed with people who don't care about anything but the number of likes they hope to receive. Namibia, and the places we visited in southern Africa as a whole, are still insulated from this threat, but that can quickly change.


So what’s the point of all this? Well it’s a collection of three lessons that one can use not just for travels to Africa, but really anywhere. 

1. Do your research on safety (whether that be crime, food hygiene, or road conditions), but also have the sense to make your own judgments and assessments. The best information is not always found in a statistic or data point, but from firsthand accounts.

2. It doesn’t matter where your heart is, if you act like you’re some kind of gift to the local populous, you're part of the problem.

3. Usually this is where I would encourage people to travel more, but it's quality over quantity. If the only reason you're going somewhere is to get a few likes or some new followers, just stay home. Leave these amazing sites for the people who appreciate them and actually care. Mahalo.

To Windhoek, Johannesburg, and Frankfurt

We had an uneventful drive on paved roads down to Windhoek, where we drove to our hotel from the first night in hopes of just picking up the old wi-fi. It didn’t work, so we ended up getting lunch at a place nearby with wi-fi and just booking a room at the same place again to make it easier. We spent an hour or two sitting out in the hotel’s courtyard getting caught up on all things internet-related. I requested an update to the Condor Airlines flight loads and it had gone down from 6 seats to 1 with no indication of standbys. Nicole and I both felt that we would probably still get on, but it wouldn’t likely be together, and if we didn’t get on, it would cause a whole slew of other issues. As a result, we decided that evening that we would change our flight to British Airways to Johannesburg, change planes there to Lufthansa, and get to Frankfurt that way.  

 The Johannesburg Airport was much much larger than Windhoek’s, which was basically two doorways for gates. We got our steps in walking to our next flight. The process was surprisingly smooth, much unlike Heathrow. The only snag was security taking my nail trimmers. It was only a matter of time, though the rules are so inconsistently applied (even within the same country), one never knows when the trimmers will disappear. We were only in Johannesburg airport for about two hours. Then we went from Johannesburg (a city known most for its high crime statistics) to Frankfurt (a city known for having a major international airport nearby). We got seats together, but we were row 42 on a 747-800. It wasn’t great, and once the gentleman in front of me decided to recline for the rest of the flight, there was basically no chance of getting comfortable. Some 10 and a half hours later, we arrived in Frankfurt around 5:30am. We shot through customs, booked a hotel, got on a train, walked to the hotel, and miraculously managed to check into our room at 7:30am. We napped until about 11 and went out to explore Frankfurt.

 Again, Frankfurt isn’t really known for . . .much of anything, other than having a massive airport, but we also didn’t want to spend the whole day in the hotel. The lobby had some umbrellas that they lent to us, which was highly necessary because rain was in the forecast for the entire day, only dropping to a 50% chance sometime near midnight. It was also fairly cold, so the combination of cold and rain made it kind of unpleasant conditions for a stroll around the city, but we attempted to make the best of it. We walked to an area known as Romerberg, which is the older part of the city. It had a nice square with traditional German buildings with various cafes and shops. Surprisingly, some people had chosen to eat outside. Sure there were umbrellas covering some of the tables, but it was still only 45 degrees and raining. Anyway, we elected to find some food and a hot tea at an older German-style restaurant a few blocks away. I had a mushroom soup and peppermint tea and Nicole had some schnitzel with potatoes. We split an apple strudel afterward. Our warmup in the restaurant made the return to the outdoors that much worse. The rain was going strong and the wind had some bite to it as well. We walked down to the river for about a minute before circling back to the square, where Nicole added to her pin collection on her camera bag. After this, we elected to just walk back to the hotel to thaw. For Frankfurt in October, this is considered normal weather, but for two kids who just came from the deserts of southern Africa, this was a cruel shock to our bodies.  

 We made one last trip outside to get some pizza at a nearby pizzeria. I’d be curious to know the statistics on how many of our trips end with a pizza dinner, as I’m sure it’s quite staggering. In any event, we returned to the hotel to relax for (hopefully) our final night abroad. We have a long flight to Los Angeles tomorrow and perhaps a reflections essay will be authored during that time. Stay tuned.

Etosha

Since Swako, we have been dealing with absolutely abysmal Wi-Fi. The hotel claims they offer it, but its ability to sustain any sort of meaningful connection is severely lacking. I spent about 15 minutes yesterday downloading an 1 mb map of Etosha National Park for our reference. It has been a little frustrating, and hence the long delay between posts. There’s no way I’d ever be able to upload pictures and post a blog with the crappy wi-fi situation we have here. ANYWAY...

 Yesterday was spent mostly on the road —more than five hours to be precise, but fortunately almost all of it was paved. Wowzers! We arrived at Etosha Village around 3:30pm, where we checked into our own personal little chalet. The temperature is a lot warmer in the north of the country than what we have been experiencing up to now. We checked out the newly opened general store down the road a little ways and made a few purchases before heading back to our place and chilling for the rest of the evening.  

 The following day, we got up early to drive into Etosha National Park. We were close to the park entrance, and there were only five cars ahead of us when we arrived. HOWEVER, there might as well have been 50 because the efficiency level of park entrances in this country leaves something to be desired. First, a guy came around to ask where we were headed, which I found to be a very silly question considering everyone was heading into the park, but he did have a stern warning about making sure we paid. Alright, fair enough, I figured that would occur at the booth by the gate entrance, but it wasn’t! While there, I had to fill out a piece of paper with our license plate and how many people were in the car etc, and was handed what looked like a brochure. Payment would occur 17km down the road, where I had to stand in another line for about 20 minutes, and then finally after probably 90 minutes since we started our journey, we were “inside” the park. 

   The primary draw of Etosha is its dryness. It essentially guarantees that you will see at least some kind of wild animals due to the presence of a dozen or so watering holes in an area that is otherwise barren and just a massive salt pan. Shortly after the entrance to the park is the largest watering hole, albeit manmade. We skirted the parking area briefly, but it was absolutely inundated with tour buses, safari trucks, and other tourists. If we parked, we would surely be blocked in, and that wasn’t appealing. I put in my GPS the location of a small watering hole about 45 km up the road.

 Enroute we saw a few elephants, but then again, so did a bunch of other vehicles, and we were blocked in until one of them finally moved. So far, our experience in Etosha wasn’t great. However, the further we drove, the fewer vehicles we encountered. By the time we reached Charitsaub water hole, there was only one car parked at the viewpoint, but probably 50 zebras and springbok taking turns drinking water. We lingered there for a while, as it was our first zebra sighting, and we probably overdid it on pictures of the old black-and white. After a while we continued east to other neighboring water holes, where we saw more zebra herds, bok, oryx, wildebeest, and an occasional ostrich. Eventually we reached a point, where I decided would be as far east as we should go, so we doubled back to the west, hitting some of the water holes that we had skipped over earlier in the day.  

I had pulled over briefly to watch a few ostrich crossing the road, and then witnessed a safari truck go flying by at top speed along the bumpy road. They turned into the next water hole, and we followed shortly thereafter. Nicole and I speculated that there was some sort of sighting at that water hole, but at first glance it looked the same as the others. But then we saw it lumbering slowly in front of us - the rare black rhino. It didn’t quite make it to the water hole because it just kind of fell over, rolled around for a second or two, and then lay there in the mud, just chilling. It stayed that way for a while. After about 15-20 minutes though, a small group of elephants rolled up to the water hole and the rhino took that as its cue to leave. It seems that when the elephants show up, all the other animals kind of scatter. Eventually so did we. We continued west and eventually got all the way back to the large manmade pan, where there was just one car parked now — a far cry from the situation earlier in the day. We thought perhaps the tour groups and other guided tours were now getting lunch, while we, fueled just by granola bars and some crackers, had a panoramic view of numerous species sharing the large water hole.  

 We sat there for a while taking it all in when Nicole thought she saw something on the horizon. She used her binoculars and discovered they were elephants. We thought perhaps they might make their way to the water hole, and some 25 minutes later, they finally arrived, causing all the other animals to briefly scatter while they played in the mud. There were eight elephants in total, and it appeared to be two separate families that seemed to travel together. Eventually they headed off somewhere else, and the other animals closed back in on the water hole. After all this, we made a brief stop at the Okaukuejo camp, which is kind of like the epicenter for everything in the park with a gas station, convenience store, and my destination — the restroom. We got back in the car and did some exploring to the west this time, encountering a total of three vehicles over the course of the next two hours or so. The landscape in this direction was even more barren or dried out. Many of these water holes had dried up. The habitat looked more like where the hyenas hang out in the Lion King. In fact, we saw a few dried carcasses alongside the road. As we continued, we saw a small herd of zebras walking along the road, and we found ourselves basically migrating along with them slowly. Sometimes we’d stop to take a picture, and they would often stop too, sizing us up and wondering what our next move would be. We encountered a small herd of oryx just down the road from them, and much further along even saw a few giraffes. The lighting on them, however, was poor, so we were glad we had seen them in Chobe back in Botswana.  

 All in all it was a good day of adventuring through Etosha. I didn’t know if Etosha would seem like old hat since Chobe had wowed us in so many ways, but each safari offered its own charms. The benefit of Etosha is that it’s self-guided (should one choose to explore it that way), so while we saw various buses or safari jeeps pull up to a water hole, they would be gone in a minute or two. We were able to linger and really observe the animals without feeling rushed. We also were able to see the rhino and numerous zebra in Etosha, and completely different species like hippo, lion, and crocodile while we were in Chobe. There is a lot of talk of “The Big Five,” in Africa — an outdated colonial expression for the five African animals that were most difficult to track and hunt. That terminology has been coopted by tour groups who encourage tourists to “check the boxes” of these five animals. They are elephant, rhino, lion, leopard, and cape buffalo. If Nicole and I were seeking these, we would have checked four of five. But I really don’t care. The leopard is an apex predator who, if successful, won’t really be seen anyway, and I figured it would have to be some kind of miracle to see that or a cheetah in the wild. I’d pretty much written off rhino until I saw the one sauntering over to see us today. And Nicole and I really enjoyed the zebra and giraffes, who aren’t part of the “Big Five.” The point being that we were watching the zebra for probably hours today and it wasn’t getting old, but some of these buses pulled up, didn’t even kill their engines, and just kept on driving as if a herd of 100 zebra was like finding pigeons in New York. It was a bit perplexing, but I’m afraid people get caught up in this “Big Five” nonsense and aren’t able to enjoy the numerous other species of animals that are unique to Africa. Anyway, it has been a long post, but there’s no internet, so I have plenty of time to write. That is the price you must pay. Tomorrow we have no idea where we are even driving to or where we will spend the night because that would require an internet connection. Wish us luck.

Willkommen

Grill night was mostly a success. They gave us more food than we were expecting. We put in for one order of beef steak, and one for oryx, and in total, it probably reached eight pieces of meat. They gave us all the firewood, utensils, plates, and everything else we might need to complete the meal. We started the fire in the grill and started off with some potatoes. We continued with the steaks, which didn’t have a huge amount of flavor in the end, but we didn’t have any Mrs. Dash on hand in the middle of the Namib desert. We also grilled a tomato, and had some pasta salad on the side. It was a hearty meal, and we didn’t use about four pieces of meat. We put these in the mini-fridge so animals wouldn’t come after them in the night.  

 After dinner, and as we were taking some more star photos, I heard a noise coming from the direction of our hut. I shined my flashlight in that direction, but didn’t see anything. I moved around to the side of the hut and locked eyes with what I think was a cape fox, whose eyes were creepily reflecting my light with a red glow. Nicole had just finished taking a picture and I told her to go inside. I figured this animal was far more afraid of us than we were of it, but it’s hard to relax and take pictures while there’s a wild animal patrolling our hut. Once inside, we heard another thump. It appeared that the fox was trying to get something out of our garbage. This continued on for some time. I would periodically look outside in the blackness to see it on the lid of the garbage. At some point during the night, it succeeded in not only opening the lid, but somehow removing the plastic bag inside of it. When we woke up all we found was an empty water bottle and a pad of butter on the ground outside our hut, along with three groupings of turdlets, but the garbage can was still upright in its original position. I had questions.   

 Anyway, we had a long drive ahead of us, but we got started fairly early. After being shaken around for about 3.5 hours on the bumpy gravel roads, we encountered some sort of quasi-paved road as we neared Walvis Bay. It was a strange feeling to not have my limbs feel like they were being vibrated off their joints. Shortly after Walvis Bay, we arrived in the town of Swakopmund (known more familiarly as just Swako). We checked into the Driftwood B&B which is just a couple miles out of town near the beach, and ended up renting some bikes to ride into town and explore. 

 There is a heavy German influence from the area’s history as a major port for German Southwest Africa during its colonial era. Many buildings are named after the Kaiser or other early 20th-century German political or military leaders. It is kind of a surreal place. When we arrived a marine layer had swept over the area, and it had burned off in about an hour. It was just like L.A. The brightly colored buildings and blue ocean water contrasted starkly with the desert and dunes immediately beyond the town. It was a strange sight. The coastal area itself looks very well-to-do and seems more visually at home in Malibu than in Namibia, but every day is a surprise here. We locked up our bikes and walked around the town center for a bit. Lots of people were hawking different things, which wasn’t fun, but some were wearing orange vests labeled, “Hawker,” as if the town somehow regulates people trying to sell things on the street. It was . . .interesting. We eventually circled back to the Swakopmund Brewing Co. for a couple beers and bratwurst (naturally). From there we biked back to the Driftwood before deciding to order a pizza for take away. 

   An intense-looking German woman took our order and marched in-and-out of the establishment looking crazed before we finally got our pizzas 40 minutes later. They were, however, good pizzas. The driftwood gave us a bottle of red wine from South Africa that helped wash it all down. We sat on our balcony looking out at . . .nothing really. We are a block from the beach and a four-lane major boulevard, but we saw maybe three cars the entire time we sat out there. One of them was a security vehicle. It’s a cute town, but it has a certain edge to it, like everyone is afraid to go out at night, and there seems to be a lot of security precautions. Anyway, we leave tomorrow for a long drive up to Etosha National Park. Our main reason for staying in Swako was just to break up the drive with something different. Here’s hoping for some paved roads...