This day I took it slowly. Meaning, I got up around 7 and then hurried the fuck up to get to the park. I'm telling you man, it's like a drug. However, I did take it slow. Filled up at Pretoriuskop, kept the speed limits on the Voortrekker, had a nice breakfast at Afsaal, confirmed with Samaria that her mother-in-law was doing better, chatted with Debra. Then went down to Berg en dal (which the white Afrikaaners have a horrible rrrrrrr sound on) and moseyed around there and up in the mountains for some time before ambling down to Afsaal again.
At Komapiti waterhole along the Voortrekker, a flock of zebras were passing by. It had several young 'uns and foals.
Awwwwwww.
When grass gets boring there's always some milk available.
Wewy cute.
Video of my first encounter with ellies down south.
She's smiling at me, isn't she?
Two chilling in the shade.
Video of the two.
Mrs Warthog is busy, busy.
My black guests tended to call these bushpig. Dunno if that's a racial thing or if the whites also do that.
Sleeping rhino w/bird.
Views from the highest hilltop on which there was a road.
At Afsaal, I took on yet another hitch-hiker, a waiter named Victor who first said he wanted to go to Skukuza, but when further inquiries revealed that he was eventually going to Belfast, a suburb of Hazyview, I decided to take him straight there instead. What followed was yet another fascinating conversation that gave me a glimpse into a culture and a country I have yet to scratch the surface of.
The designations on the toilets at Afsaal are possibly offensive to some. To which the South Africans will probably say "fuck you".
In the evening, I went out to Tank's Pub again, five minutes west of Hazyview proper. It's simply a bar and a huge canvas spread out over a wooden platform, plus a concrete building at the back of the bar, containing toilets and the kitchen. However, they serve very good food at a very reasonable price there (especially for someone accustomed to Norwegian prices).
Menu w/prices.
The Juggernaut. The meat is good, but the coleslaw (I know - veggies, right???) is possibly the best I've ever had.
I had chatted a bit with the owner, Graeme on my previous two visits but he wasn't in that night so instead I bantered with two young 'uns, one of whom remembered me from last year. The other one was leaving for Dubai the next week, as he saw few prospects in staying. I learned a lot about the development in the country from the white perspective (not least how much they despised the corrupt ANC) and also about life in the area.
It seemed that on the one hand you could die from being careless about your footwear one day, because scorpions might move into it during the night; on the other hand, both were very adamant that this was the best place in the world to raise your child. Not sure how to reconcile the two, except to say that I guess home pride trumps rationality most times.
At Komapiti waterhole along the Voortrekker, a flock of zebras were passing by. It had several young 'uns and foals.
Awwwwwww.
When grass gets boring there's always some milk available.
Wewy cute.
Video of my first encounter with ellies down south.
She's smiling at me, isn't she?
Two chilling in the shade.
Video of the two.
Mrs Warthog is busy, busy.
My black guests tended to call these bushpig. Dunno if that's a racial thing or if the whites also do that.
Sleeping rhino w/bird.
Views from the highest hilltop on which there was a road.
At Afsaal, I took on yet another hitch-hiker, a waiter named Victor who first said he wanted to go to Skukuza, but when further inquiries revealed that he was eventually going to Belfast, a suburb of Hazyview, I decided to take him straight there instead. What followed was yet another fascinating conversation that gave me a glimpse into a culture and a country I have yet to scratch the surface of.
The designations on the toilets at Afsaal are possibly offensive to some. To which the South Africans will probably say "fuck you".
In the evening, I went out to Tank's Pub again, five minutes west of Hazyview proper. It's simply a bar and a huge canvas spread out over a wooden platform, plus a concrete building at the back of the bar, containing toilets and the kitchen. However, they serve very good food at a very reasonable price there (especially for someone accustomed to Norwegian prices).
Menu w/prices.
The Juggernaut. The meat is good, but the coleslaw (I know - veggies, right???) is possibly the best I've ever had.
I had chatted a bit with the owner, Graeme on my previous two visits but he wasn't in that night so instead I bantered with two young 'uns, one of whom remembered me from last year. The other one was leaving for Dubai the next week, as he saw few prospects in staying. I learned a lot about the development in the country from the white perspective (not least how much they despised the corrupt ANC) and also about life in the area.
It seemed that on the one hand you could die from being careless about your footwear one day, because scorpions might move into it during the night; on the other hand, both were very adamant that this was the best place in the world to raise your child. Not sure how to reconcile the two, except to say that I guess home pride trumps rationality most times.
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