Trip Start Jul 19, 2009
160Trip End Oct 25, 2010
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Where I stayed
After kissing the children goodbye I headed straight for the Wild Coast, where I started out, where I longed to be again.
Something about the place, and what lies behind the shores, the Transkei, that makes you feel so good........
First Port St Johns.
The Bazz bus got me there, though by now I have learnt it is far more expensive than the regular South African coaches, like the Grey Hound.
All buses stick to the main road, so you have to catch a shuttle to the coastal villages from Mthatha.
The shuttles don't run on a schedule, you must call well in advance to see if wheels and driver can be arranged
Just outside Mthatha there is a petrol station, close to the main road, that also functions as a taxi/bus stop. Passengers are dropped off and picked up here. Quite a busy little place, with a Wimpy, a road shop, an ATM and toilets. Modern and clean.
I hate the place.
The hours I have spent there waiting, hanging around, lugging my backpack and stuff.
The shuttles look pretty much the same but have different destinations and those are not marked.
How hard can that be? Just a simple piece of paper with a name on it. If you miss your bus you are stuck in Mthatha and that is not a town you would love to spend the night enjoying the ambience.
Transit vans come and go, mine should have been here an hour and a half ago.
I'm fed up. I make a call. It's coming. When? Soon. Soon?
How will I know which one it is? He'll find you. He did.
Patience - will I ever learn?
Port St Johns was disappointing
A messy, busy little town, in its own way amusing and quaint, but the road was tarred right up to the beach and it lacked the wild and pristine feel you get further south.
Maybe I didn't stay long enough to do it justice.
The Amapondo lodge was nice though, a few km out of town and close to the sea. Friendly people too.
Sean, someone belonging to the place, took me along to get some pizzas. It was so dark, you couldn't see where you were going, but we arrived, to my surprise, at a clay hut in the middle of nowhere. Seemingly empty, then a big, fat black man looms up, peering at us as if he has no idea what we are doing there.
An order was placed and scratching his head, the man shuffled away.
Was he still with us, I wondered.
Sitting outside in pitch dark, feeling chilly, we waited for what seemed ages.
After a while the 'cook' joined us, silently smiling, eyes and teeth shimmering in the glow of a joint, it was a peculiar gathering - Hieronymus Bosch sprang to mind
However, 2 pizzas eventually materialized.
But we had ordered 3. Where was the 3rd?
Aah, tomorrow at 1 pm he would deliver it personally.
But we want it now.
Can't do, ran out of cheese. Yeah man, but the cheese man's coming in the morning, so what's the problem?
He really didn't understand, stood there looking hurt and confused, and I didn't know whether to laugh or just give in, then I realised, by that time tomorrow I would be well on my way to Mpande.
Hungry, by the looks of it.........