New Year, New Travels

Happy New Year everyone! I hope everyone had a wonderful, blessed holiday season. I have much to tell. As you might remember from my last post, my parents and little sister came to visit me here. They were here for a whole two and a half weeks and we saw so much together. While in Africa, I of course wanted them to go on safari, but given the nice length of time they had, I got ambitious and planned a safari for them…in Namibia. So not only did we get to go on safari, but we also got to see a great deal of the many other things that beautiful little country has to offer. Then of course, we went to Cape Town. It was my first time in Cape Town and let’s just say, I fell in love instantly. It is hands down, one of the single most gorgeous places I’ve ever seen in the world. And I’ve been fortunate enough to do a bit of traveling in my young day, so that’s a big compliment.

So let’s begin. This post will be about Namibia only, but the Cape Town post should soon follow.

My parents arrived a few days before Christmas Eve. Their arrival was unfortunately coupled with one of the worst thunderstorms I’ve ever seen in Durban in my four months here. That night was like a horror movie set up, but with a happy ending. As my car crawled to the airport at 35 kilometers per hour, I made two interesting realizations: 1) Lily (my car) leaks in really bad storms. At first, I didn’t even feel the small stream of water coursing down my tense arms as I gripped the steering wheel for dear life, but as a small puddle formed in my lap it was hard not to notice. And 2) Lightning is really beautiful up close. That night I had a love-hate relationship with the lightning. On the one hand, it was hitting the fields around me so often I felt like I was driving through a strobe-lit club. On the other hand, I could only see the road clearly when it hit. I call these realizations interesting because at the time they were extremely unsettling, but now they’re sort of funny because….well, I survived. My driving nightmare was paralleled by my family’s flying nightmare. Suffice it to say that after an hour of terrifying turbulence and a missed landing attempt, they thankfully made it to ground safely. Later as we all huddled in a teary group hug, I offered up one of the most heartfelt prayers of thanksgiving I have prayed in a long time. It was an emotional start to the trip to say the least.

Thankfully, the rest of the holiday was all sunshine and blue skies. Our flight to Namibia wasn’t until December 26, so I had a few days to show my family Durban. I got to take my family to my favorite open air arts and food market and of course my favorite beach. We went to church on Christmas Eve (which earned me massive brownie points with my mother) and they got to meet the infectious disease team I work with at a holiday potluck dinner that my boss hosted at her house. However, the moment that will be forever imprinted in my memory, is when my sister first unzipped her suitcase. She had not mentioned this to me at all, but had simply shown up here with half a suitcase full of our old toys. She had packed up all our old Barbies, as well as a collection of stuffed bears and then some store bought toy cars and trucks (because “What about the boys?” she told me. “We only had girl toys.”) We spent the morning of Christmas Eve distributing toys in the pediatric ward at King Edwards Hospital. As I watched her let one of the patients stick playdough on her face, I realized I’ve never been prouder of my baby sister.

On Christmas Day, we drove through the famous Midlands Meander. Though famous, I’d never myself done this trip. The Midlands Meander consists of about five to six routes that weave through the beautiful Kwazulu-Natal Midlands. Each route is dotted with quiet tea gardens and family-owned restaurants set against the mountain backdrops. There are also myriad local craft shops featuring the work of weavers, potters, woodcrafters, leather workers, artists, metalworkers, box makers, herb growers, cheese makers, beer brewers…the list goes on. In the morning, we stopped to have tea in the Valley of 1000 Hills. Only a half hour outside Durban, this area of Kwazulu Natal is a lovely start to a day of mountain driving and definitely lives up to its descriptive name. Our coffee and teas were served with freshly baked scones and some of the most decadent butter I’ve ever eaten. It almost felt like cream, but it was whipped thick like butter. After this mid morning snack, we meandered some more. Since we were driving through on Christmas day, most of the quaint curio and art shops were closed, so our trip was mostly to marvel at the natural landscape on our way to the cozy Italian restaurant where we had our Christmas meal.

The next day we boarded a plane to Windhoek. A word about Namibia. It is a country of extremely diverse landscapes and rich cultural history. We spent seven days driving through the country and every day our surroundings were completely different than they’d been 24 hours earlier. We were picked up at the airport by Ronnie, quite possibly the best tour guide in the history of tour guides. His sweet kindness and easygoing nature was made only more endearing by the occasional mild stutter that crept in when he was shyly sharing some adorable joke about baby baboon or mother cheetah. Needless to say, my sister and I fell head over heels in love with the man.

Our first stop in Namibia was Etosha National Park, an enormous game reserve situated in the north of the country and purportedly one of Africa’s main wildlife sanctuaries. Etosha means “place of dry water” and is named for the large dry calcrete depression or “pan” in the center of the park. It is usually dry year-round but occasionally gets moist enough to fill with blue-green algae which attracts hundreds of flamingoes. (Our trip did not coincide with flamingo season unfortunately.) We spent two nights here, at different rest camps within the park. Our first night we were welcomed by one of the most breathtaking scenes I’ve seen thus far in Africa. The Okaukuejo rest camp has a floodlit watering hole on the premises with a small bleacher of seats set up for viewing. On that first night, I was busy shampooing my hair when my sister pounded on the bathroom door excitedly babbling about baby rhinos and sunsets. I ran out of the shower perplexed and barely had time to throw a t-shirt on before she was literally pulling me out of the room and over to the viewing area near the watering hole. As we approached, I realized why. My parents and her had decided to take a quick walk before showering and had come upon a mother and baby rhino taking a bath and sipping water at the watering hole. They were 50 meters away and backlit by a stunning sunset that would have been worth the trip on its own. It was a breathtaking view. As I sat there with shampoo in my hair and my arms crossed in front of my chest to hide the fact that I was literally wearing ONLY a t-shirt (and shorts), I marveled at the beauty of nature and the blessing of being able to share that beauty with the three most important people in my life.

The next two days of game drives were also spectacular. At one point, we came upon a watering hole surrounded by zebras and watched a baby and mother zebra frolic and nuzzle each other. (Have you guys noticed a trend of how happy I get when I see baby animals in the wild?) Then at a different point, we sat with bated breath and binoculars pressed hard against our eyes as a herd of zebra munched its way through a field where we’d just seen three to four female lions crouch into invisibility. All five of us in the car barely moved a muscle for fifteen minutes but for some reasons, the zebra gods were happy with the zebras that day for there was no hunt and the lionesses let them pass by unharmed. It’s amazing how quickly I developed safari bloodlust. Although my sister was preparing herself to cry if a zebra got killed, I wanted to see a lioness in action. My consolation prize came later when we passed by a zebra that must have been brought down the day before. The main hunters were clearly done with it as the only carnivores around were small foxes and a few vultures. My anatomical mind kicked in and I zoomed in with my parents’ phenomenal camera, trying to identify organs but don’t worry, I’ll spare you those graphic shots. I know. I’m weird.

After two days of game driving through arid savannahs, we moved on to Damaraland, the northwest corner of the Namib Desert. We spent the night sleeping in the shadow of Brandberg Mountain, the tallest mountain in Namibia. Despite its height, this mountain is more famous for being home to thousands of Bushmen rock art paintings and in particular the famous “White Lady” painting. Our safari description had mentioned a few hikes, nothing too strenuous so I was infinitely proud of my family because going to see the White Lady was more like a 10 km hike over rough rocky terrain. Named for a human figure that most archaeologists now believe to be a man, the White Lady painting and other rock art paintings around it are thought to date back at least 2000 years. Some of the leading theories about who this “White Lady” was supposed to represent, is that it is either a depiction of a medicine man painted in white and engaged in ritual dancing or a hunter in a hunting ritual. Regardless, it was painted 2000 years ago and is still visible despite the elements and the tourists who used to throw water on the paintings in order to make them appear brighter in pictures. (You can't go up there without a guide now in order to prevent this.)

What I found interesting about the Brandberg Mountain, besides its beauty and archaeological value, was its name. Brandberg is an Afrikaans, Dutch and German word meaning “Fire Mountain.” The co-existence of those three languages (and thus cultures) in one name perfectly symbolizes the feel of our next stop in Namibia: Swakopmund. Known as a seaside resort town, the Dutch and German influences in this small African city are incredibly visible. The architecture is German colonial, the promenades palm-lined and the beaches rocky, which makes it feel like you’ve taken a little German town, plunked it outside Miami, then lined it with a seaside a la Maine, lighthouses and all. Very interesting and quite charming.

The morning after arriving in Swakopmund, our guide drove us to Wolvis Bay where we spent two hours on a catamaran. Our energetic captain pointed out seals and the large mola-mola fish which the area is known for, then fed seagulls right over our heads. She also showed us the area’s oyster farms and ended the ride by presenting us with large juicy freshly harvested oysters, which we ate the Swakopmund way: with a squeeze of lime juice, some black pepper, a touch of Tabasco sauce and a swig of champagne. Not bad, I decided. Not bad at all.

Having champagne before lunch reminded us to stock up on similar refreshments before heading out of Swakopmund. Seeing as how we were spending New Year’s in a tiny town with a population of 12, we weren’t sure if they’d be able to supply us with champagne and my family is nothing if not prepared when it comes to our spirits. Once properly stocked, we were on our way into the heart of the Namib desert to see what I was most excited about: the famed sand dunes of Sossusvlei. Some of the dunes stand at a height of over 300 meters, and are thus famous for being the tallest sand dunes in the world. As the tourists that we were, we were taken to the most famous one, Dune 45, so named because it sits at the 45^th kilometer that connects the Sesriem gate and Sossusvlei, and attempted to climb it. Dune climbing, as it turns out, is one of the hardest types of climbing I’ve ever done in my life. It really takes the whole “two steps forward, one step back” business to a very literal level. It was…exhausting. But the smoothness of the golden sand, swept in place over 5 million years and the quiet tranquility that my sister and I enjoyed at the top was worth the effort, in my opinion. Now. Had it actually been sunny vs. slightly overcast that day, I may have been singing a different tune. I cannot imagine climbing that thing with a true desert sunny sky beating down on us, no matter how tranquil the top. I mean, how tranquil can you be when you have heat stroke?

But in all seriousness, the desert was lovely. I could not stop taking the pictures and experimenting with the black & white function on my camera. I swear Africa turns people into amateur photographers. And as it turns out, celebrating New Year’s in a microscopic town in the middle of an African desert is an incredible experience. How many other people can say they rode a camel three hours before they were popping bottles of champagne?