Goings-On in Swakop

While I have internet access, I wanted to post a couple of other pictures from recent outings. One day we went sandboarding (kind of novel, but also kind of lame--it's like boarding through really, really heavy snow). And another we took a day trip to Spitzkoppe, the "Matterhorn" of Africa. That place was incredible. I would put money down that that's where they filmed Mad Max.

Greetings, Earthlings

I’ve just returned from Sossusvlei, a sea of sand dunes that you would more expect to find on Mars than here on lovely old Earth. After five days in Swakopmund I was itching to get out and do something, and the apricot-red dunes are what Namibia is famous for. I think they are actually the tallest sand dunes on Earth.

I rented a car here in Swakop, trusting my friends that a 2WD car would be sufficient to get me down there. Indeed it was, but my god did that car take a beating. It’s a gravel road the entire way—5 hours of uneven gravel—and seeing as how it was a rental car I wasn’t exactly cautious with my driving (sorry, Avis). In addition to the normal roughness of gravel roads, every few kilometres they have these big dips to allow for drainage in flash floods. Since everyone drives about 120km/hr on these roads, I honestly think I got air once or twice..

I drove through some of the most barren and desolate terrain I’ve ever been through. In three hours of driving I think I saw one or two other cars, and you can see them coming for miles and miles away by the dust trail following the car.



The drive is pretty in parts, too. They call the coastline here the Skeleton Coast on account of so many ships wrecking here over the years because of the thick fog and nasty currents. This shipwreck was from less than a year ago.



I camped down near the entrance to the dunes, and took my chances on showing up without a reservation. They let me camp there, but sequestered me to the dusty patch of sand between the bathroom and the road. Not exactly ideal digs, but once again the sunset that evening was incredible. I met a cool South African couple who let me share their fire. What would have been ideal is if they had let me share their stove, but conveniently they had just run out of fuel. I forgot a stove, so I’ve been eating PB&J for the last two days. I thought there might be a store at the campsite with food, but alas this is Africa and I should have been wiser. (View from the campsite, below)



I got up early to drive out to the dunes for sunrise. The scenery is truly surreal. These sand dunes stand up over 1000 ft in some places, and you could be forgiven for thinking they are actually mountains, as I did when I drove in the evening before. There’s basically a 200-mile “sea” of sand dunes between Sossusvlei and west out to the Atlantic. Where I was is the easternmost edge of that sea.







The Namib is the oldest desert in the world (I think), so the sand has been eroded into this really fine grain, almost like a mist. When you pick it up and throw it, it stays in the air for a long time and gets blown hundreds of feet. The small grains also mean death for cameras, so I could only pull out the camera at certain parts because the wind was blowing. It's also really fun to run down the dunes. You hike up the ridgeline, and then bomb down the face on one side or the other. Because the sand is so fine, you never actually see your steps. You're just sort of followed by this wave of silky smooth sand, almost like a mini avalanche.

I just got back to Swakop after a long drive home, and I'm tired so I'm going to sign off. think I’m going to head home for a quick shower before going out for one last night here. Heading to Windhoek tomorrow (more on that later).

Anatomie of a Potjiekos

Hello from Swakopmund, the town where Brad Pitt and Angelia Jolie had their latest lovechild, Shiloh (you have to check out that link). They apparently came here a few months ago to escape the press to have their first biological child, and because Jolie liked the isolation and beauty of Namibia. The only flaw with this wonderful story is that my friends tell me that the entire time they were here they rolled around with a massive possie in tow, including a film crew who followed them everywhere, including into Mondesa, the township of Swakopmund, to record them giving away money and spending time with the kids of the township. They also did a feature for People Magazine here. And Reader's Digest. Getting away from the press. Right.

Anywho, I digress. I’m writing to share a recipe with all of you food lovers back home. I’ve called this recipe “Anatomie of a Potjiekos,” and I’ve intentionally misspelled anatomy because the way it’s written sounds more pompous and foodie, I think. I also think it’s how the French write it. And who knows food better than the French? I’ll tell you who—the Namibians, that’s who. For value for money, you can’t go better than Potjiekos.

Last night Pam had a bunch of her friends over to cook this traditional Namibian dish. It's more of a stew, really. It's super easy to cook; I'll outline it for you below. We fed 10 people last night for about $10.

Step 1: Construct a braai in your backyard, buy braai wood, and build a fire. Buy a cast iron pot that weighs about 20 lbs to cook the stew in. Integral to all of this is having a Namibian friend who knows how to do all of this and has such a pot, like Mervin below.

Step 2: Buy cheap frozen chicken or meat of choice, add fresh and frozen vegetables of choice, mix together into the pot and place on the fire to cook for about 30 minutes. Meanwhile, begin to mix mielie meal (aka pap--it's kind of like porridge), like Marcelino is doing below.

Step 3: Bring pot off of fire and into the kitchen (doesn't necessarily have to be under the sink, but that's a good spot) and stir in final ingredients like seasoning. This can all be done while singing loudly and mockingly in a French accent, as Mervin is doing below.

Step 4: Have your friends bring the wine (the expensive part), like Consta did below.

Step 5: Season to taste and enjoy!

The Pumpkin Curry Project

I could dump every superlative in my vocabulary (which, as those of you who have had to listen to me tell a story can attest, comprises the vast majority of my vocabulary) into a story describing how incredible it is to see the wild animals of Africa up close and personal--and still not quite do it justice. This past week has been an incredible ride, and I finally feel like I have arrived in Africa.

Cape Town was wonderful, but as I said before, it felt more like a European city to me than an African one. I’m glad I started my trip there as it made for an easy adjustment. But after five days I was itching to get out. Plus, as hip and cosmopolitan as Cape Town is, there’s this weird undercurrent to the city where the wealthy drive around in nice cars and go to nice restaurants and wear posh clothes, but return home to houses that are better protected than Fort Knox. I’m not kidding you, even people I met of the “middle class” in Cape Town live behind a large wall with an electric fence and guard dogs and signs posted everywhere that private security services are only moments away and bars on the windows and just about every other security measure you could think of. They described it as living in a cage, and that’s exactly how it would feel to me. I feel so fortunate that (by and large) we don’t have to live that way back home, and saddened that so many Africans do. Somewhere between the crime that causes people to feel the need to protect themselves, and the intense measures that people take to do so, some element of humanity seems to get lost in it all.

I really did like Cape Town though; don’t get me wrong. I spent one day there climbing to the top of Table Mountain, which confirmed the observation of someone who shall remain nameless that I have both gained weight and lost shape since injuring my knee last summer. The climb was well worth it though—the views from the top of the mountain are incredible. I spent an entire afternoon up there by myself, just relaxing in the sun and enjoying the view (and, frankly, napping).

(That's not sweat, it's rain - top of Table Mountain, Cape Town, South Africa)

I spent another day with some friends I made at the hostel at Robben Island, where Nelson Mandela was infamously imprisoned for 19 years. Once again—twice now so far on this trip—I found myself wishing I had started this autobiography of Mandela earlier. I would have both not made an ass out of myself with the South African President, but would also have enjoyed the Robben Island tour quite a bit more. Nevertheless, the tour guides were former inmates and thus provided their own unique perspective to what life was like as a political prisoner there. Rather, how shitty life was as a prisoner there.

After another day spent at a few of the wineries in Stellenbosch and Paarl (where the vast majority of South African wines are made), I left Cape Town with Pam and Gina for Windhoek, Namibia. Given that the bus ride was 20 contiguous hours, it was actually quite manageable, except for the endless Disney movies that they insisted on playing and blasting throughout the entire bus. I don’t know how they do it, or whether Disney has exclusive distribution rights to every developing country I visit, but somehow the worst goddamned movies get played on public transport and tourist haunts. So you find yourself forced to watch yet another story of good triumphing over evil, but only after first overcoming adversity. The latest installment was played by Lindsay Lohan (good), Matt Dillon (evil), and Herbie the car (adversity? I’m not sure…you’ll have to tune in to fill in the rest).

(Tasting wine the way I was taught in Silverdale - Stellenbosch, South Africa)

(After *one* glass of wine in Paarl, South Africa, with friends from left Pam [Richmond, VA], Caroline [Holland], Jeffrie [L.A.])

I felt great on arriving in Namibia though. The sun was shining, it was warmer, and I generally felt the people to be nicer. It didn’t hurt that my travel partner had lived in the country for nearly two years, but despite that the vibe was just generally better. This place is about the opposite of Seattle in every regard. Here it’s sunny 90% of the time, they drive on the wrong side of the road, and the scenery is red, arid, and quite barren. It’s damned beautiful though.

They also seem to love meat. I mean, LOVE meat. Lunches here basically consist of meat pies, meat on a stick, or meat not on a stick. For snacks they have cured meat in a bag, known as Biltong (which, incidentally, is incredibly good and quite addictive). Dinners I’m not sure about yet because tonight is our first night not camping, but I think it’s a safe bet to assume it’s going to center around meat. Pam is even organizing a meat party, also known as the Pumpkin Curry Project, also known as a Poiku (I have no idea if that’s the correct spelling, but it’s kind of like a luau with lots of Namibian meat). I’m really looking forward to meeting more of Pam’s western volunteer friends, and also all of her Namibian friends, of which there seem to be many. As an aside, for anyone who heard me glibly say “I’m going to come back from Africa as lean as a greyhound”, I would like to officially retract that statement. There is no way that’s going to happen.

I’ve basically spent the last week living out of a Volkswagen Golf, which here is known as a Volkswagen Citi. It’s called a Citi because most certainly it was never intended to leave the city, let alone be taken on an off-road driving safari, but that’s neither here nor there. We picked it up in Windhoek, Namibia and drove immediately north to Etosha National Park. Etosha is unique in that it’s one of the only parks in Southern Africa that’s accessible without a hired guide. You can drive yourself through the park on self-guided safaris, as long as you make it to camp each night by sunset so that you can sleep behind the protection of fences.

Etosha is basically the lakebed of an old, dried-up inland lake known as a pan. The soil is gone from the lakebed, so no plants can grow, and thus no animals can survive. So it forces all of these animals to watering holes on the fringe of the pan, and thus makes them relatively easy to find. In three days at the park, we saw herds of zebra (TONS!), giraffe, elephant, rhino, lion, impala, had some food stolen by pernicious jackals, and had two beautiful nights of camping out in the wild under the most incredible starscape I’ve seen in quite a while. Each day we would be up to watch the sunrise, and back in camp to watch the sunset—and the sunsets here are incredible. It’s so flat and arid and unpolluted that you never lose sight of the sun as it falls into the horizon. And there’s always wisps of high clouds to pick up the color.

(Sunset - Okaukuejo Camp, Etosha National Park, Namibia)

(Yield for Zebras [prounced here Zebb-bras]- Etosha Pan in the distance)

(Late to a self-portrait with Pam (center) and Gina - Camping in Waterberg, Namibia)

I can’t describe how weird it is to be lying in your tent, and hearing elephants fighting or rhinos grunting just hundreds of feet away at the watering hole. You never feel threatened because you know the fences are there, but you still feel how incredibly vulnerable you would be in the wild. In two days of safari driving, I think I saw more wildlife than I’ve seen cumulatively hiking in the Cascades. I’ve heard of people doing “walking” safaris, where you are out there camping without fences and just the protection of an armed guard. I’m going to try to do one of those before I leave.

The thing that’s cool about the watering holes is that every animal has to come there to fill up for the day, usually in morning or evening. So all of the game comes in to drink, and the lions and other predators stalk them out there. Think of the last Discovery Channel show you watched on Africa, and that’s exactly what it’s like. We didn’t see any kills, but you get a sense for how every time these animals go to take a drink of water, it’s a matter of life and death. It’s sad that so many people come to this continent to observe this struggle in wild animals when so many millions of humans on the continent face the same issue every day. I guess that is what hit me about the townships in Cape Town—that the basic elements of life that we take so for granted are so unavailable to many of these people. It really seems to be is a struggle to live, which makes life cheap, which makes it easy to turn to violent crime to get what you want. It’s really, really sad.

The other thing that Etosha exposed me to was this wild sub-culture of African car camping. I have never, ever seen more intense gear than what the South Africans bring up to these national parks. You watch them come in on their 4x4 rigs, with gear stored on every possible square inch of the car and towing trailers, and they descend upon a campsite exhibiting a mastery of logistics and unpacking that even the military would admire. I’ve always thought of myself as something of a gearhead, but I’ve got nothing on these peeps. The people camping next to us had a kitchen tent, a closet tent (with shelves!), their tents for sleeping, mats for the entire campsite to keep the dust down, and windscreens surrounding the entire monstrosity. We looked utterly pathetic next to them in our VW Golf and solitary tent, all the more so because our stove didn’t work and we had to approach these expert campers every morning shamefully begging for hot water. The other sub-culture that goes on in South Africa, by the way, is braai. Braai is basically BBQ, but it’s been elevated to the status of national sport in South Africa, and is a common topic of conversation (I bet my braai’s bigger than yours).

I’m now in Swakopmund, on the Atlantic Coast of Namibia, where Pam lives and works. I’m staying with her and her roommates from the Congo and Colorado, and will probably spend the next few days here before renting a car again and heading south to see the famous sand dunes of Namibia, then north to see the Himba people (boobs!), before making my way to Botswana, probably sometime next week.

(With [from left] Pam, Gina, her roommates Jeremy [from the Congo] and his wife Lindsay [from Colorado Springs], Swakopmund, Namibia)

If any of you are still reading by this point (thank you, Mom) I applaud you and marvel at your span of attention. I apologize for the incredibly lengthy post, but Internet access is quite scarce here, and when you do find it, utterly painful to use. I’ll do my best to send shorter updates more often. Hope you are well.

How Alex Got His Groove Back (and other related stories)

It's amazing what a little sunshine can do one's mood. Now that good weather is here, and perhaps because I've now been here nearly a week, I finally feel like I'm settling into the groove of things. I'm actually leaving Cape Town today for Namibia, and--wait for it--I'm proud to say that I'm NOT doing an overland tour.

Yesterday on a tour of the nearby wineries, I met two American girls, one of whom works for the Peace Core (or is it Peace Corps? I can never remember) in Namibia, and they are heading up there today. They've got a rental car arranged and, critically, the reservations in the national parks all set up. They invited me to come along, so I don't see how I could say no. It's nearly a 24-hour bus ride to get to Windhoek, Namibia's capital, where we'll pick up our car and I'll buy some camping equipment and then we'll be off. First to Etosha National Park, then eventually to Swakopmund where I will probably be able to get on the internet again.

Cape Town has been great so far. I wish I had more time to recount what I've done, especially the story about meeting up with a friend of a friend (well, really, a friend of a friend of a friend...but who's counting) who is a cool guy, a fellow business schooler, and also gay (not that there's anything wrong with that). On Friday night I went out with him and "the boys", all of whom were of the everything-is-just-totally fabulous ilk (think Bruno from Ali G, but with South African accents). They were total characters, and actually a ton of fun to be out with, despite the fact that the bars were totally and completely full of dudes (felt just like home). The high point of the evening was getting hit on by a guy who must have been about 50. He walked up to me and said "gay, bi, or straight", I said straight, and he dedicated his evening to trying to change my mind, which included following us around to other bars. He then thought the right next step was to write me a love note, and somehow slid it into my back pocket. He provided every form of contact information possible, along with words expressing how he felt about me, and closed with "stay so cute". If I could just get one tenth of that kind of attention from women, I'd be a very happy man.

Well, look at that. I was able to tell the story, and with just two minutes to spare.

Cape Town, I love you, but you're bringing me down

Gray skies. Cold weather. Rain. For those from the 98102, does this sound familiar? I can't believe I'm now halfway across the world, experiencing the same weather as before I left. I saw the most beautiful sunrise on the plane ride in, and I guess I just sort of expected to have beautiful sunny weather here in Cape Town. Not so my friends. Not so. I guess the weather wouldn't be that big of a deal if my hostel had heat. But it doesn't. So there we are.

Cape Town is certainly beautiful though. It's odd in that it feels nothing like Africa. Or at least what I would expect Africa to feel like. It's actually not all that different from European cities. Imagine taking San Francisco and slapping a bunch of big beautiful hills behind it, fill it with a Dutch vibe and Dutch-sounding things, add a pinch of good food and great nightlife, and there you have it.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. By far and away my biggest gaffe thus far was sitting next to the former President of South Africa on the flight from London to Cape Town, the guy who shares credit and a Nobel Prize with Nelson Mandela for ending apartheid, and having absolutely no idea who he was. He was friendly enough, and talked about how he was thinking of selling his farm in Cape Town, and yada yada. It wasn't until the plane landed, and we were walking out the door and all of the people on the plane were shaking his hand, and there was the South African equivalent of the Secret Service there to meet him at the gate, that I realized he must be somebody important. And then even after that, it wasn't until about two minutes ago that I looked him up on Wikipedia that I realized who he was. Doh! That could have been an interesting conversation.

I went to tour a township today with a great German couple who just completed driving their car all the way from Germany to Cape Town. I can't quite put in words yet how I'm feeling about the yawning rich-poor gap that you see here, so I think I'm going to noodle on that a little bit before writing anything.

One thing I think I've decided is that I cannot do an Overland Tour, which is just a different way of saying a really long guided group tour on a 4x4 bus. That seems to be the way that everyone travels through Southern Africa here, and they have tours that go all the way from Cape Town to Victoria Falls over 25 days, which is basically the route I want to take. The German couple inspired me to set off on my own, so I think that's what I'll do.

Thank You For The Miles, Uncle Bill

Well, that was about the easiest flight to London I think I've ever had. The plane was late leaving Seattle, but I'm kind of okay with that considering I have eight hours here at the airport before I leave for Cape Town tonight.

The other thing I've learned I'm kind of okay with is flying first class. By a stroke of luck and by virtue of all of the miles I logged while working for Uncle Bill, I was upgraded to first for the flight over. Let me tell you, my friends, as an intrepid observer just back from the land of the rich, they really do have it better. Once I got past the pompous magazines you find in the seatbacks ("Elite", the private jet lifestyle magazine (really?); "Worth", the magazine that examines the concerns of families with substantial wealth; and, "First Life", no explanation necessary on this one) it was really quite comfortable. I slept like a baby, which is kind of a blessing and a curse as now I'm stuck in Heathrow and I can't even nap in the quiet area. I think it's time for one more lap around Boots, the Body Shop, and the Tie Rack, with closing ceremonies in the Duty Free.

It's also beginning to set in how quickly and significantly everything is changing for me. In the last two weeks I've quit my job of the last five years, taken a 2500-mile road trip to southern Utah where I got my ass absolutely kicked on the famed Slickrock bike trail, and prepared for a two-month trip. Well, I didn't actually prepare for the trip, as that would imply things like plans, itineraries, reservations, and/or some semblance of how I'm going to spend the next two months. Maybe packing for a two month trip is more appropriate. And you know how I love to pack.

Next post, Cape Town!

This is not Africa; This is Utah

<--And this is Balanced Rock in Arches National Park, near Moab, Utah.

Now, squint your eyes really tightly and say, "cheese."

(Canyonlands National Park) -->

Just testing first post, that's all...