o caminho

I passed my driving test first time at the age of 18. I drove maybe once a week to go rock climbing - to the local wall in winter and out into the sticks in the summer. Occasionally I'd drive a little further but never for much more than an hour. I left home at 19 and left access to a car behind with it. For the next year or so I'd drive once or twice when home on holidays. And then ... pretty much nothing.


Fast forward ten years.


"So why don't we just hold onto the hire car and we can drive from Cape Town to Jo'burg ourselves. I bet it's beautiful - and then we can take our time and go to all those places we couldn't by bus"
"Er... how far is that?"
"I don't know - it's about a six hour flight - how far's that?"





[stretches to get rid of cramp and stiffness - less than an hour and half into the first day]










"Look you still had this far to reverse - I only turned my head for a second - you must have been going too fast!"
"But why did you turn when you were supposed to be guiding me in?"
"The guy said hi"
"Which guy?!"
"It's not my fault"
"Which guy?"
"You think we're gonna have to pay for it?"
"..."
"The cute guy"





A horizon full of ostriches taking flight (running away, not ... you get it) is massively impressive. I swear I kept expecting David Attenborough to step out from behind a rock and do up his fly.






















It's like telling people not to think of pink elephants... but you gotta admire the Afrikaaner style though!







Two days from Jo'burg we saw a huge thunderstorm appearing on the horizon coming in from the high country. It just dominated half the sky for hours before we even started getting close enough for rain. It hit as we were pulling into town. I'm glad I wasn't on the highway in that - the rain was bouncing big as buffalo testicles. When we finally pulled into the farm for the night we were treated to a spectacular sunset complete with lightning crackling along the horizon in three different directions.

Cape Town Kids

Some people grow up with big crazy extended families. Cousins and fifteen uncles and nieces and grandparents and crocodiles. Weekends are madhouses of happy and unhappy shouting and family dinners always get out of hand.
Some don't. I grew up in a (relatively) tiny family. And as a result I never grew up around little people. No cousins my own age that we saw more than once a year, no babies thrust in my arms to watch while parents dealt with disasters new. So spending two weeks with an thirteen month old and a three year old was enlightening. Not to mention their extended portuguesers.







First up, they're killer cute - it's ridiculous. Lara (the little one) was just about mastering the waddle. She would strut Tina Turner style across the room towards you, then light up with the biggest smile in the world and put her arms up to indicate that you better just drop what you were doing and pick her the flip up now. Then proceed to beat you about the face with flailing limbs and a giggle, then start over.




Kihara was a harder nut to crack. For starters she can speak, which gave her the convinction that as a non-Portuguese speaker I was pretty much a retard.
She decided I needed schooling, so for the two weeks I was treated to random objects thrust to my attention with big questioning eyes before slowly and de-li-be-rate-ly - lest we forget that I'm retarded -"amarelo!" "vermalho!" "azul!" and all the other colours of the rainbow.
She figured out how to play it to her advantage pretty quick too; realising that I couldn't tell her off so she could do whatever she wanted when I was the only one around. This included me trying to tell her that she wasn't allowed in the swimming pool without her armbands.

Do you know how to say armbands in Portuguese?
Me neither. So me frantically telling her in pigeon, "Stop! Stop! - one needs orange arms! You must needs orange arms!" left her practically giddy with insolence... SPLASH.




They did eventually run of steam though - glorious.











Cape Town was ace. The weather was fantastic and bright, the views stunning, the sea freezing. And all the meat... I put on weight for the first time since I was 18.

Clive & the lion

After interminable hours of sighting nothing Clive slows the car and turns off the big engine. The sound dies quickly in the bigness. The grass takes it, and the dirt. The bush envelops the car in sounds of its own - only now audible; insects, breeze and sun.



Clive nods his head off to the right, "lion" and casually looks the other way
Dumb tourists, "huh... where?!"
Clive nods again patiently, "under those trees"
Dumb tourists, "huh?! Are you sure? Clive ... I can't see anything."
"It's there ... Lying down."
Eyes squinting, binoculars scan right and left.
"Clive I don't mean to sound doubtful but I really don't..."
Lion lifts head gives Clive a wink and waits patiently for photo opportunities.
The car erupts in shushed excitement and a flurry of clicks and zooms.
Minutes pass and the car again resumes disinterest, the clicks peter out. Someone asks again when we'll stop for lunch.
Clive carefully drops a twenty out the window, starts up the car and drives on.



(thanks to Zaf for her much larger zoom)