Greetings (Howzit?) from Durban

As you might have noticed, we have been somewhat lax in updating our blog lately. The past two plus months have been a whirling vortex of working, playing, preparing, packing, partying, and generally enjoying our remaining time in the States and our first times abroad. Now I write to you from a backpackers’ hostel in Durban, South Africa, the locus of many of our early adventures.

Yes, the dream of our trip has become a reality. After months of planning and talking about our jaunt, we are finally on our way. Truth be told, as much as we are excited about this once in a lifetime adventure, it was exceedingly difficult to leave behind our family and friends, who we were fortunate to spend a lot of time with over the past two months. Being away from home for over a year will be hard and we would be lying if we said we didn’t have some butterflies about surviving on our own for such a daunting time period and itinerary. But, the overwhelming emotions coursing through us are joy, gratitude for the opportunity, and anticipation for the road ahead. With such a surplus of time, we are being careful to be deliberate in our travels in order to get a more in depth view of each locale. Hopefully, we will be vigilant in keeping everyone updated on our travels via this blog.

But first, a brief update since our last post. Married life is still bliss and our bond is ever strengthening. The remainder of the Colorado spring treated us well, with hiking and fishing galore, plus a wonderful trip to Fort Collins and Denver. Our super fun cousin Holly drew us to Fort Collins, where we took in a sick mountain biking film premiere and played quarters with people much younger than us. In Denver we reconnected with my Dartmouth buddies Puck, Rob, Luke, and Ethan, and met some new characters, chiefly Ethan’s brothers. We skied Arapahoe Basin twice, including a miraculous powder day on May 10, when at least a foot of new snow had fallen overnight. (We had great pictures of this and all latter time periods, but an unfortunate incident with our camera in South Africa has rendered this blog and the time period between early May and now completely pictureless. Details on this incident can be found later in this post).

Soon it was time to leave Telluride, albeit reluctantly. The drive back to Atlanta was long and lonely, as we each had to drive our own car. Thank you Sirius satellite radio and 75 mph speed limits! A stop in Denver for my swearing into the Colorado bar broke up a 17-hour first day of driving. For the last night before arriving home, we stopped in Memphis. For those of you that have never been to Memphis, as we had not, it is a place that must be visited, particularly if you like to eat.

With the address to Charlie Vergos’ Rendezvous in hand, we set out from our hotel. At first we were perplexed because we couldn’t see the restaurant on the street, but as we got within two blocks, the smell of ribs hit us like a freight train. We literally followed our noses (and then a sign) to Rendezvous’ back alley entrance. Giving all due respect to Fat Matt’s Rib Shack in Atlanta, the dry-rubbed ribs at Rendezvous were the best ribs that I have ever eaten, hands down. Completely satiated, we walked off our dinner on our way to Beale Street, having heard that it could be a fun place. As we turned the corner onto Beale Street, we were assaulted with the sounds of live blues music and raucous laughter. Even on a random Wednesday night, the place was going off. Every bar had an incredibly talented blues band, including a guy at B.B. King’s who wailed on his guitar using his tongue. Ribs and blues, it really doesn’t get much better than that.

The next day we were finally back home in Atlanta, and it was great to see family and friends. However, within two days we were back on the road, this time headed down to Florida’s Gulf Coast with my parents to finalize our SCUBA certifications with the people at Beach City Scuba. Mike, Dawn, and Theresa were wonderful instructors, and we could not recommend them highly enough. We are happy to report that everyone obtained their PADI cards, including my mother, who was not as excited about the process as we were, but was a trooper nonetheless.

After Florida, we were back in Atlanta for two days, taking care of errands and going to doctor’s appointments and the travel clinic. Then, I was off to San Francisco to attend my friend Kansas’ wedding in Napa Valley. First, I spent the night with my oldest Dartmouth friend, Ross. We hung out and cooked dinner with some other Dartmouth people and then headed out to a bar, where we ran into even more Dartmouth friends. The next day, a Friday, we had a morning typical of a life of leisure, having coffee and going for a stroll around Pacific Heights. I then rendezvoused with my friends Connor and Spencer for the drive up to Napa, with the obligatory stop at In-N-Out Burger on the way. In Napa we united with our friends Scott and Doug, with whom we were sharing a bungalow at the beautiful Silverado Resort. We showered and then headed to the welcome cocktail reception for Kansas, who none of us had seen since Dartmouth graduation. The night quickly became rowdy, with Scott and I not retiring until 5:30am.

We recovered the next day and then geared up for the wedding, which was both gorgeous and tons of fun. Of course, it devolved into another late night and rough morning. Sunday was a day of recovery and trip back to San Fran (with another stop at In-N-Out), where Ross gave us a driving tour of the stunningly beautiful NorCal city. Monday it was time to head back to Atlanta, where I spent two days before reuniting with my wife in Charlottesville for a grand time with family and old friends, including a celebration of my Pops’ birthday on June 5 with my old and new parents. I believe I can safely say that all in Charlottesville enjoyed themselves, particularly late nights on the neon-illuminated lawn and in Littlejohn’s and The White Spot.

Upon our return to Atlanta, we began the last stages of preparing to leave the country. Fortunately, many of the errands had been done, so we had plenty of free time to enjoy the company of family and friends. We spent our only weekend of the summer at the lake, soaking in that most relaxing of spots. Monday prior to our Wednesday, June 18 departure, Lauren, Dane, and I headed to White Water for a fun day of riding water slides.

Tuesday was a blur and then we were headed to the airport on Wednesday, a swirl of emotions outlasted by extreme excitement. First stop was Dulles in D.C., then a brief stopover in Dakar, Senegal before arriving in Johannesburg, South Africa. The flight, besides being quite long, was uneventful and even somewhat comfortable. We had attempted to get bumped into First Class to no avail, even when we told them we were on honeymoon. However, before she offloaded in Dakar, one of the flight attendants smuggled a bottle of Moet champagne out of First Class and presented it to as a wedding gift. So nice!

Our first hour in Jo’burg was punctuated by a little confusion and anxiety. Our backpackers was sending someone to pick us up at the airport. However, we did not know his name or what he looked like. Having been told to be on our guard at all times in South Africa, we did not trust the man who came to fetch us. After some wrangling and some calls to the hostel, we finally got in the van with the guy. All was well, until the van turned down a dark alley. We looked at each other and were convinced that we were going to be robbed and shot. Fortunately, it turned out that the hostel was just down in the alleyway and we were in good hands with Mandela. We got out at the Diamond Diggers Backpackers where we met Jason, one of the managers, who showed us to our very nice double room. That first night, we went across the street to an excellent Portuguese restaurant and then collapsed into bed.

We slept in the next morning and then had a lazy breakfast before hitching a ride with Willie, one of the staff members (and an extremely cool guy), to the Newtown area of Jo’Burg. We walked around a bit, took in a museum, and then looked for a taxi to Melville. We did not see a single cab on the street, so we walked toward a sign that said Taxi Bank. It seemed like a logical place to get a taxi. We walked in and were awestruck at the sea of humanity and honking minibus taxis. Everyone seemed to know what was going on, with the conspicuous exception of us, the only two white people in the huge taxi garage. Finally, we got in a minibus with a guy who said he would take us to Melville. We expected to just take off, but first we had to wait for the entire minibus to be filled with people, all of whom were speaking Zulu. We took off through the maze of traffic and headed out. Soon, everybody behind us in the bus started handing us money and saying unintelligible things to us. Luckily, the woman next to us explained to pass the money forward to the driver, who would give change that we could pass back to the appropriate people. It was a really funny experience and probably the cheapest cab ride I have ever had.

Once in Melville, we checked out the scene and had lunch at a tasty café, where we also played our first game of Farkel, a dice game that we picked up in Telluride. So far, Farkel has been a great time waster and a way to play for stakes, such as who has to cook dinner that night. Willie picked us up in Melville and we went back to Diamond Diggers, where we played Scrabble with a couple of brave French guys, JB and Paul. Their English was very good, but their Scrabble skills were no match for the eventual champion, Lauren. We made it an early night, knowing that the next day would be early and potentially long.

We awoke, had breakfast, and then went with Mandela to Soweto, a township of Jo’burg that was created to separate the races during the apartheid regime and which still bears severe scars of that horrible legacy. Mandela took us to Kliptown, a sub-township of Soweto (short for South Western Townships), one of the poorest areas of Soweto, and the site of the unveiling of the African National Congress’ Freedom Charter in 1955. There we met George, a Kliptown resident, who showed us around the area. The poverty was striking: most parts of Kliptown have no electricity or running water and the houses are completely ramshackle lean-tos. Despite this, the people in Kliptown were warm and engaging. We were fortunate to time our visit to coincide with a dance presentation by some local youths. Incredible rhythms! George also showed us the Post 77 studio, which is a conglomeration of very talented Kliptown artists. Their art was rich with a melange of hope for the future and lamentation of injustices past.

From Kliptown we went to the Regina Mundi church, the former meeting place of many anti-apartheid leaders and the site of several armed skirmishes between students and government forces. The sight of so many bullet holes and broken pews in a church was a haunting reminder of the incredible repression of the apartheid government. Finally we headed to the Hector Peterson Museum, which is named for the first victim of the June 16, 1976 student uprising that was violently quashed by the government. The museum was very illuminating. Outside, a twenty-something local woman asked Lauren to take a picture together. Her incredibly blonde hair apparently makes her something of a celebrity.

That night was the night of the Winter Solstice and provided a great excuse to head out on the town with our new friends Willie, Jason, and his girlfriend Barbara. We braaied (South African for BBQ) some huge steaks, bacon, and sausages, had some Castles (local beer) and then boarded the van for Frankie Bananaz, a club in Bedfordview. A great time was had by all, as far as I remember.

We awoke late the next morning and then spent three plus hours of our afternoon at the Apartheid Museum, a comprehensive repository of the evils of the racist regime in South Africa. One of the exhibits contained a host of nooses used to hang dissenters and the tiny cells that they were forced to live in alone for weeks at a time, as a respite from brutal torture. It made my skin crawl.

Happy to see friendly faces again, we hung out at Diamond Diggers, watching movies and conversing with the international crowd. For those of you that have not spent time in a hostel, they are special places. Hostels are the new frontier trading posts. There you share meals, beers, conversations, and rooms with Aussies, Israelis, Euros, and people of every stripe and homeland. Some hostels are nicer than others but, with limited exceptions, they are vibrant and positive places where people are always willing to lend a hand: a fleeting utopia.

That Monday morning it was time to head out from Jo’burg and explore the rest of South Africa. For that purpose, we rented a cheap car: a mint green Ford Fiesta. South Africans, like the British, drive on the left side of the road, always an adventure for Americans. Lauren’s far superior skills with a manual transmission made her the prime candidate for driving to our next destination, Rustenburg. We set out in the heart of the Jo’burg-Pretoria rush hour, which further complicated our understanding of the confusing road signs. Finally, we were on our way out of Pretoria on the N4, headed for Rustenburg, the jumping off point for our visit to the game park.

Rustenburg was a pretty beat place, but we found a cheap pizza joint and went to bed early, eager for our visit to Pilanesburg National Park, close to the Botswanan border. Lauren drove the Fiesta to the Pilanesburg gate, where we paid the entrance fee and wondered what sights awaited. The Lauren and T.J. Solo Safari began in earnest, with us navigating the park on our own, aided by our trusty steed Freddie (the name for our Fiesta) and a nice map. Within five minutes, we were approached by a herd of zebra and we went wild, taking pictures and videos (now lost). Over the next seven hours, we were treated to some incredible views. Highlights included a very close encounter with a family of giraffes, a simultaneous sighting of a huge elephant and the endangered black rhino, and being within five feet of a large family of elephants hanging out in the woodlands.

Thrilled with our day, we set off for the Revel Inn, a short drive from the park. Unfortunately, it turned out that the Revel Inn had been closed down (damn you Lonely Planet), so we had to truck on to the wholly unimpressive town of Zeerust, where we stayed at the only inn that appeared somewhat safe, paying a healthy rate for the peace of mind.

The next morning, I assumed driving duties. It was quite shaky at first, but I soon had the hang of it. We rolled south from Zeerust, destined for the foothill town of Clarens. Unsurprisingly, we got slightly lost on the route, losing the highway in the town of Klerksdorp. We stopped at a gas station to ask for directions. We got out of the car for about 20 seconds, standing right next to the car while listening to the directions, then moving on our way. About 200km down the road, Lauren went to get a pen from our small backpack and we realized our worst fear: we had been robbed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The bag that was stolen contained our passports, plane tickets, other important documents, and our camera. Lauren’s wallet was also taken, along with her credit cards, driver’s license, bank card, etc. It was the worst feeling in the world to know that in the 20 seconds that we had our backs turned, many things dear to us had been lifted. We had looked after that bag with vigor for all but that time and, of course, that was when the criminals struck. South Africa is notorious for its crime and we were but the latest of its victims.

Devastated and feeling very vulnerable, we headed for Clarens. We phoned my father, who aided us tremendously in shutting down all stolen cards, including my credit card, the details of which were on a receipt in the stolen bag. That night was quite tough, made tougher by the freezing temperatures in Clarens. The next morning, we made contact with the U.S. Consulate in Durban, who said they could help in getting new passports. Then, a terrible thought hit us. We did not have enough fuel to get Freddie to Durban and we could only pay for fuel with cash (thanks to the incredible levels of credit card fraud in South Africa). Unfortunately, my bank card had apparently been shut down along with Lauren’s so we had no access to cash and there was no place in Clarens to change our American dollars.

We hit the highway, hoping that the town of Harrismith would have banks where we could get Rand for our greenbacks. To our elation, we found three banks in the town. In no time, we would be on our way to Durban. Wrong! None of the banks would change our dollars into Rand, requiring a passport to perform that service. Obviously, we had no passports to give, the emergency of which had no effect on the implacable countenances of the bankers. With few options, we started asking for help on the street. After a few tries, we met a mother and daughter who agreed to withdraw Rand from the ATM in exchange for our dollars. We were so happy that we gave them huge bear hugs, which surprised them a bit.

With enough Rand in our pockets to get to Durban, we drove south down the N3, awaiting our next misfortune. We are usually immune to such negativity, but the past couple of days had hit us hard. We had intended to go into Lesotho, but without passports, we would be arriving in Durban a few days early. We phoned Tekweni Backpackers, who heard our story and arranged to put us in their honeymoon suite at the cost of a dorm.

Words cannot describe the depth of our appreciation for the people at Tekweni, particularly Gee and Mony. From our arrival on June 26 through to today (we are still at Tekweni almost two weeks later), they have helped us immensely, including letting us run a tab because we had no money to give and being a sounding board for our troubles. Waking up the next morning in the “Shag Shack,” we realized that we were in a good place again. But first, we had to head to the U.S. Consulate. It was an awful experience. We were strip searched to even enter the place and then the attitude of the staff, with one fortunate exception, bordered on extremely hostile. We filled out our applications for a passport, were assured they would arrive in a week, and left with the sense that we might be in Durban for a while.

Fortunately, Durban turned out to be heaven, with perfect beach and water temperatures, even in the dead of the South African winter. The place has a Californian vibe, with laid back people being the rule. On Florida Road, the next street over from Tekweni, there are a plethora of tasty restaurants and open air cafés, perfect for whiling away an afternoon with a cup of cappuccino or two.

We soon became used to the pace of life in Durban and started meeting the locals, many of whom make the Tekweni bar their nightly haunt. We had a big night at a great bar called Billy the Bum’s on our first Saturday night in Durban with Gee, Marius, Hayley, Mony, Mark, our new Cape Town friends Justin and Craig, and others. A great DJ from the local radio station spun cool beats and the party lasted late into the night. Our arrival in Durban also coincided with two big events: the Mr. Price Pro surfing competition and the Durban July, a massive horse race and party. The first full week in Durban we hit the beach every day, checked out the Mr. Price Pro to witness some great surfing, and went surfing on the mornings of July 3 and July 4. In the afternoons, we would chill out at a café called Europa, where we would drink some coffee and I would work on some writing. At night, we would either braai, cook some noodles, or head out for dinner. We would then get to know our new friends a bit better, perhaps over a few Black Labels (another local beer). What a cast of characters! Matt, Dane, Derek, Roaul, Angil, and Riaan have welcomed us into their circle with open arms.

July 4 was a great day. On our first night in Durban we met some Americans, Brent and Michael, who are in Durban for the summer working for human rights NGOs on break from law school and university, respectively. They invited us to their friends’ penthouse on the beach, which was filled with Americans decked out in the red, white, and blue. We played some Beirut and then headed out to Joe Cool’s, a massively packed beachside bar/club. We danced to some house music and then grabbed a cab home, to get a bit of shut eye before the big day on Saturday.

Earlier in the week, we had augmented our wardrobe with some costume pieces for the July. Lauren wore angel wings and a halo with an ethereal gold dress that she had from home. I went the devil route, adding a tie, socks, and gloves all adorned with menacing skulls to some clothes from home. We set out with Gee (John McEnroe), Al (pimp), Kate (Russian mistress), and Arlo (slickly clothed) to the race track and were met with a sea of people adorned in their finest. We were happy to add a silly element to the festivities. Gee and Lauren’s costumes received the most attention, with one woman asking Lauren if she truly was an angel. Obviously, everybody at the July had much to drink, but the atmosphere was pure Durban: warm, inviting, and incredibly fun. We met up with some other friends, including the hilarious trio of surfers: Stefan (a Frenchman from Lille), Tom (Aussie), and Leon (a South African from Pretoria). Perhaps pushing our luck a bit, we placed some small bets on the horses, but were not rewarded for this effort.

Following the races, the crew regrouped at Tekweni to prepare for the street afterparty on Florida Road. Two separate stages showcased some serious rock and hip-hop talent and we danced into the early morning. Faced with an invitation to still another party at 3am, we wisely elected to go to bed and celebrated our decision when we woke up to Derek’s phone call at 11:15, telling us to get up so we could head to the beach to get in a swim, some lunch, and see the finals of the Mr. Price Pro. As it turned out, the waves were junk, so the finals were not that interesting, but we did have a good day hanging out with Derek and having a nice lunch at the Beach Café, located directly on the beach. That night was another braai, with people still reeling from the night before.

We took it easy on Monday and formulated our plan for leaving Durban, a strong feeling of reluctance coming over us. It would be hard to leave a place where we had good friends and great times, but at some point we would need to move on. It appearing that our passports would be ready on Tuesday (yesterday), we decided to head down to Coffee Bay for two nights, before coming back to Durban on Thursday night and taking the train to Cape Town on Friday.

Tuesday, we retrieved our passports from the Consulate, and then ramped onto the N2 headed south for Coffee Bay. Unfortunately, a cold/flu had overcome Lauren and 1.5 hours into the trip, we made the decision to return to Tekweni so that she could recuperate in a nice comfortable bed and environment, instead of in a dorm bed at a hostel renowned for its party atmosphere.

With Lauren back in bed on Tuesday afternoon, I spent some time at the market getting more food and purchasing meat for the Tuesday braai. The regular crew was around, not particularly surprised to see that we had not left Durban as planned, but sad to hear of Lauren’s illness. I pumped Lauren full of cold medicine, got her to drink some tea and fluids, and made it an early night myself.

This morning, Lauren’s condition had not improved, so we are on a holding pattern at Tekweni, waiting for her to recover and making plans to get to Cape Town and then Namibia. Fortunately, the length of our trip allows us the luxury of lazy days. There is no sense traveling if Lauren is not feeling up to it: we are more than happy to hang out in this paradise.

We will check in again once we get our replacement camera shipped from the States. Even though we have already been through some rough times, the first three weeks of our trip have been everything that we hoped it could be. We look forward to moving on, but will always remember Durban fondly. We wish that we could share the sights of our trip with you, but the technology does not yet exist to transfer our mental pictures to any form of readable media.

Finally, we send huge hugs to our families, who have given us so much support in our time of need. We love you!!!