Morocco

Written by Lynn

Morocco is an interesting country in that it is less than an hour by boat away from Spain, and as such has a heavy European tourist influence. But there is no mistaking the fact that you are in an Islamic country the minute you land at the airport. Most of the women still wear full dress in the form of djellabas when they go out, a loose fitting, hooded gown. The call for prayers will echo through the streets five times a day and there are camels weaving through the traffic of downtown Marrakech. All the larger towns and cites have a walled medina (or old Arab quarter) in the centre built of reddish coloured sandstone. In general, it would be pretty hard to think you were still in Europe.

One thing that you do have to be very careful of, as a woman travelling in Morocco, is your state of dress (or undress as they would think). While they are very used to seeing Western women clad in shorts and tank tops, to do so is to invite harassment and comments from men. Even wearing pants can be provocative, so buying a long skirt, carrying a scarf to cover your shoulders and your hair and walking with a man can help make your visit more enjoyable. In one city I was wearing shorts when I walked to an ATM by myself just after we got off a bus and had some kids throw rocks at me!

Our very first impression of Morocco was that it was bloody hot! July is not the optimum time to visit this country (notice the thermometer reading on the upper part of the watch), with the average tempurature in Marrakech hovering around 38 degrees celsius. Rooms in general were fairly expensive, but if you wanted an air conditioner so you could sleep at night, costs double. We put up with no air conditioner for the first four nights, then realized that we really weren't going to get any sleep unless we splurged, so went all out every 3 or 4 nights after this.

Our first stop was Marrakech. We went out that night to enjoy the live entertainment at Djemaa el Fna, Africa's largest square. During the day there are a few juice stands and some sellers, but not much else. At night the place is jammed packed with a series of open air restaurants that seem to spring up out of no where and a variety of street performers, everything from snake charmers to story tellers and traditional dancers. There are, of course, an awful lot of pickpockets and beggars out as well, so keep a good hold on your wallet. And, if you're Gilles anyways, you will be having to constantly turn down offers of "top quality hashish", or "Vitamin H" as one enterprising young gentleman termed it. Morocco is actually the world's largest exporter of cannabis, most of which is turned into hashish and seems to be readily available everywhere. I would like to point out that I was not offered drugs once on our entire travel (I'm not sure if I should be offended about this or not), though Gilles must look like a real pot head to the dealers, as they didn't seem to believe him even after he turned them down a few times and would trail after him on the streets trying to convince him they had good stuff to sell!

Morocco is, however, a teetoller country and it is very hard to find any alcohol for sale, except in some of the more upscale restaurants that cater to tourists. Instead of bars there are cafes everywhere that are filled with men drinking gallons of "moroccan whiskey" or mint tea flavoured with mounds of sugar. While there are no Moroccan females present, they don't seem to mind a Western woman sitting down for a drink, probably because they don't really consider us proper women anyways. Just as well they don't drink as the younger Moroccan men seem to spend all their time hanging out together at these cafes, from early morning until late into the evening. Women you actually don't see that much of as you will not find them working in any of the shops, restaurants or cafes.

The other cool thing about Marrakech (and most other big Moroccan cities) is their souk, or market place. Marrakech has one of the biggest souks, split up in to a confusing array of alleyways and tiny little nooks. If you're looking for something specific you can ask for directions to the Souk Bradila (pitchers), Souk Smarine (clothing), Souk Kebi (leather) or Souk Zrabia (carpet) to name a few. Just be prepared - if you ask someone for directions, they will usually insist on taking you there themselves, then will demand an outrageous tip for the "help". Sometimes you will even just be walking in the same direction as someone who has come up to you on the street and pointed in a direction with no prompting, but will then claim they "guided" you to a mosque, souk or street corner. Having said this, Morocco is famous for its hospitality. Often this will take the form of being offered mint tea when you go into a shop, though at times this ploy is used to make tourists feel obligated to buy something (and the shop keepers certainly know how to lay on a guilt trip, be ready to just walk away from them, and sometimes even get nasty as the occasional place can be very aggressive about insisting you buy things). We did however have several great encounters with locals, who invited us to lunch with them, showed us around the Kasbah area of Marrakech and didn't pressure us to buy things from them. We usually did out of politeness sake anyways, but felt that even if we were overcharged a bit it was worth it for the opportunity to talk to local people without having to undergo a big sales pitch.

The food here was great, a welcome relief, and is likely our favourite "new" food type with chicken tajines (chicken cooked over charcoal with vegetables, spices, olives and marinated lemons in a conical earthenware pot) eaten with fresh bread coming in at the top. As well, fresh sqeezed orange juice, excellent cappicinos and, of course, mint tea, meant that most meals were a pleasure to enjoy.

After Marrakech we took off to Rabat to go to the Canadian Embassy. I wanted to double check that my passport would be good enough to get through three more countries - Spain, Egypt and London - and possibly get a new one. Unfortunately it takes at least 4 weeks to get a new passport, time we didn't really have, and the embassy seemed to think I would be okay. It was good that we stopped in, though, because Gilles actually saw an old Canadian friend, Jan, who had married a Moroccan woman after converting to Islam. He offered us some advice on places to go and see, plus it was good to see a familiar face.

We caught a train from Rabat to Fez and decided to actually pay for an official guide to take us through the medina in this city. Fez has an impressively ancient and confusing medina which is considered the largest car free urban area in the world. It is a veritable warren of streets and a guide is highly recommended so that you can get your bearing. Official guides in Morocco have to be licenced and the tourist police will check any local taking you around for an identification tag that proves such. This is because of all the problems that tourists had with "unofficial" guides robbing them, and getting them lost in the medina, then demanding outrageous sums to get them back out. The guides are generally quite inexpensive (we paid about $20 for a 5 hour tour) but only because part of the tour involves them taking you into a variety of stores where they get a commission when you buy something. It is always better, if you are really interested in purchasing an expensive item, to go back the next day on your own as guides can get as much as a 40% commission, which is, of course, passed on to the consumer. We were very upfront with our guide saying we had no intention of buying anything, but that we'd be happy to go to a carpet makers, leather workers overlooking the tannery and an antique store just out of curiosity. I don't think he really believed us, as by the end he was kind of upset that we really hadn't even shown interest in buying anything. Still, it is interesting to see how the handmade carpets are produced and learn how to tell a good carpet from a bad one. The tannery was an experience, and a really smelly one at that. It is fascinating to see that they are still using the vats that were built here centuries ago. The stiff, foul smelling skins from goats, cows and camels are soaked in vats of pigeon dung and urine to loosen the hair and soften the leather. Then all the excess flesh and hair is scraped off the skin and they are dyed a variety of colours or dried and softened into a natural shade. The job here is considered one of the lowest on the social ladder and is a hereditary position, passed on from father to son. We also saw the University of Al-Karaouine, the world's oldest institute of higher learning, established in 859 AD. There was also mosques, an ancient water clock and impressive mosaics to visit.

After Fez we proceeded onto one of our main destinations in the country, which was the Sahara desert. In spite of the heat we felt we would be remiss in not taking the opportunity to do a camel trek in the desert (after all, when are you going to get the chance to do so again). We proceeded by bus to the town of Merzouga where we negotiated a deal for a 3 night stay at a really nice hotel right on the edge of the desert, including breakfast and dinner, an overnight camel safari and (thank god) an air conditioned room at night. The hotel luckily had a pool, because we managed to record a high tempurature of 54 degrees celsius one afternoon while hanging around outside. The camel trek itself was fascinating, if incredibly uncomfortable (not recommended for those who think riding a horse is tough, this feels a hundred times worse). I think they call them the ships of the desert because you can get sea sick riding one. The camp we had was set amongst the sand dunes with small tents made out of hand woven carpets. Since we didn't leave until after 5PM the tempurature wasn't too bad, but we did encounter a pretty viscious sand storm, meaning that there was grit everywhere - in the food, your hair, under your clothes. Interesting yes, comfortable no...........

We begged a ride back to the main town of Er Rachida from a couple who had a rental car at the hotel. From here we planned to catch the bus back to Marrakech. Unfortunately we had missed the only bus in the early morning, so were forced to stay overnight. This turned out okay as we met some great guys who, upon seeing Gilles carrying his guitar, insisted we go to a cafe with them. They called a few of their friends out, including one guy who was a fabulous musician. He kept us amused for hours playing everything from traditional Berber songs, to the Cranberries, to little spoof songs that made fun of the people wandering around us. In return Gilles gave him his electronic LED tuner that he had found incredibly fascinating (and he outright asked for, there is no shyness about the Moroccan men).

In Marrakech we caught a bus to Essaouria. We had almost a week left in Morocco and were getting VERY tired of the heat. Essaouria is on the coast and is boasted to be one of the world's best places for wind- and kite-surfing. It also happens to be at least 15 degrees cooler than anywhere else in the country. Without the need for an air conditioned room we managed to get a cheap place to stay and wandered around for several days. I indulged in some shopping, which I had held off doing for most of the trip, too lazy to carry anything, and we hung out at cafes and watched the large local population of stray cats make themselves at home. You tend not to see stray dogs as most Muslims consider them dirty (if a dog touches something you have to wash it 7 times for it to be considered clean again), but have no problems at all with cats, though after one pissed on my backpack while we were at a cafe I tended to disagree. We actually managed to find a small restaurant there that had a satellite dish and would allow Gilles to watch a little of the Tour de France, which is his annual July ritual.

So three weeks in Morocco made us appreciate cooler weather, less aggressive touts and beggars, a glass of wine with dinner and cheap accomodations in Asia. On the other hand, the shopping was fantastic (as long as you know how to bargain), people once they realized you weren't going to buy stuff from them could generally be pretty friendly, and it was like no where else we've ever been. So come on out, just make sure you don't visit in summer unless you really enjoy hot weather, and you may want to bring padded pants for your camel ride.....................

Mozambique and Swaziland

Written by Lynn

As a break from all the hustle and bustle of our wildlife viewing in Kruger National Park we decided to go Swaziland and Mozambique. This plan was fraught with danger. Not because of internal strife, civil war or guerilla activity, but rather because I was running out of pages on my passport. South Africa requires that you have 2 completely blank pages when you enter the country, and I was a long way from that! But with plenty of blank corners in the passport, the knowledge that if all else fails bribery was an option, and the strong belief that no one at the borders actually cares, we decided to risk it.

Our first break involved going into the incredibly friendly, relaxed country of Swaziland. This land locked country is one of the smallest on continental Africa, and is ruled by a monarchy whose roots stretch back to the beginning of the 19th century. Traditionally the king rules the country in concert with his mother, the Indlovukai or Great She Elephant. She is considered the spiritual leader of the country, while her son is the administrative leader. Succession is a bit of a complicated affair as the king himself does not choose who will take over the throne once he passes. Instead the royal family elects one of his wives to become the Indlovukai and her son automatically becomes king. The new monarch must be the only son of a royal wife of upstanding character, who is not one of the "ritual wives" (spouse assigned by the government to a newly elected king, born of one of the two main royal lines). Once a king is crowned he has virtual autonomy in the country and puts in place his own Prime Minister as well as most of the cabinet. The present king, Mswati III, has been heavily criticized for living a luxurious lifestyle in a very poor country.

Swaziland's main export is cane sugar, and the country actually has one of the highest GDP's per capita in Africa. Unfortunately, over 40% of the land in Swaziland (and the majority of the arable property) is owned by foreign investors, leaving most native Swazis existing on less than $1/day. As well, Swaziland has the dubious honour of having the highest rate of HIV infection in the world, standing at 38.8% of the population being positive for the virus. In an attempt to control the spread of HIV/AIDS, King Mswati imposed the rite of UMCHWASHO, or chastity ritual, in 2001. According to traditional belief, during a period of umchwasho unwed maidens are supposed to wear coloured tassels denoting their status as virgins, and are to stay such for the next 5 years. Those under 19 years of age are to have no contact at all with males, while those over 19 are restricted from having sexual intercourse only. Should the rite be broken, the girl's family would be fined, usually the outrageous sum of 1 cow. Due to the outcry from young women who said that their suitors would be unwilling to wait 5 years for them, the ban was lifted one year early in 2005. There was also a bit of a scandal when the king, in 2004 broke the ban himself by taking a new wife, though he did make sure to pay up with a nice bull calf for the honour.

King Mswati, at the present time, has 11 wives and 2 fiancees. His latest fiancee was chosen during the 2004 UMHLANGA (or "reed dance") festival. During this festival, held usually in the month of August, 20,000 to 30,000 maidens voluntarily participate in a 3 day ritual that ends with a dance in front of the king, local Swazis and, these days swarms of tourists. The king will give a "state of the union" speech prior to the dance, and has the option of choosing for himself a new wife from among the maidens present. King Mswati's father took full advantage of Swaziland's tolerance of polygamy, having accrued more than 70 wives in his lifetime, many of them chosen during the reed dance ceremonies.

Regardless of whether or not you agree with polygamy and an absolute monarchy, it is hard to not appreciate what Swaziland has to offer tourists. As soon as you cross over the border it seems that everyone is smiling a little more and is a little more welcoming. The land changes almost immediately from wide open lowveld plains into rolling, majestic hills. As you drive through the country you pass many roadside stands offering a variety of handicrafts, and often vendors will attempt to draw you in by having young children dancing on the sides of the road.

Our destination was the Mlilwane Wildlife Sanctuary. Not for the wildlife viewing which, quite frankly in comparison to Kruger, is very sparse, but for the Sondzela Backpackers. This much talked about hostel has the well deserved reputation of being one of the most relaxing places on earth to hang out at. The staff is all from the local village, just outside the borders of the sanctuary, and are immensely pleased that you would consider driving so far off the tourist track to visit them. Every night they make a traditional feast over the outdoor fire pit and invite guests to join them. Our first night we had impala stew with roasted squash, beetroot salad and rice. Surprisingly, impala tastes pretty much like what I remember moose is like. The young man running the "front desk" (you actually just kind of wander onto the site and look around for someone who would be willing to take your money, there are no locks on the huts so theoretically you don't really need to pay) was very interested in hearing about the types of animals we hunt and eat in Canada. He didn't think that garbage eating black bears were to his taste, however. After dinner you can relax by the fire, play pool in the open air bar area, go for a swim or just wander back down to your rondawel that is set overlooking the Mhlanbanyatsi Valley where warthogs seem to rule supreme. It is strongly recommended you don't leave any food lying outside your hut as the hogs are pretty pushy about stealing what you don't watch carefully.

We did spend one day at the Mantenga Cultural Village where you enter the traditional living area by shouting out "yebo nkosi" so that someone can come an ritually welcome you to their home. We were treated to a tour of the village (which people still live in) by the chief, Albert and then took seats in the ampitheatre to watch a traditional story dance performed by the local youths. In it a young girl who was betrothed to an evil old man falls in love with a handsome warrior who saves her from a lion. Torn between love and honour, she turns her back on the handsome warrior to fulfill her obligations. But in the meantime the old lecher has caught wind of the two lovers and has accused the young girl of infidelity. The witch doctor steps in just as the girl and the warrior are about to be executed and uses magic to prove their honesty.

Beyond this we really didn't do much, a few short walks in the park (no lions or other dangerous animals, so very safe to wander around inside the gates as opposed to Kruger) and a whole lot of watching the world wander by. Refreshed after a few days we returned to South Africa (no problems at the border) and spent a few more days in Kruger Park before the rental on our car ran out.

The hostel we were staying in outside of Kruger, the Kruger View Backpackers, is only about 5 minutes from the Mozambique border. So we had our host, Dave drop us off at the immigration office. Our reason for going to Mozambique was simple - whale sharks. Apparently Mozambique has some of the largest concentration of whale sharks in the world. These guys are the largest fish in the ocean. The peaceful creatures are actually filter feeders, sucking up tons of nutritious plankton a day. It's a good thing they have not an aggressive bone in their body, because these guys are HUGE! The largest recorded whale shark was 41.5 feet long, but there have been anecdotal reports of them ranging up to one 75 foot monster that dwarfed the fishing boat that pulled up beside it. Their mouths stretch open to over 3 feet, and are filled with 300 to 350 small teeth. They are actually very tolerant, and apparently sometimes even playful, with human snorkellers.

All sounds great, really cool, a "must-do". This is, of course, easier than it sounds. We had to get to Tofo Beach in Inhambane, Mozambique. The first challenge was crossing the border, where line ups during the week can take at least 3 hours, double this on the weekends. So we did something we had never done before and played the white tourist, paying someone to hustle us through immigration. He also put us on the right mini van, loaded to the gills with locals, heading to the capital, Maputo, 2 hours away. By the time we got there our butts were pretty numb from having been shoved in the back of a van with our backpacks resting on our knees. Our next challenge was getting to Inhambane, which consisted to a 6 hour bus ride to the town of Xai-Xai the next day, then a ferry crossing to the town. Then another mini bus had to be caught to Tofo Beach, where whale shark snorkelling tours could be had. Whew, another exhausting day. We stayed at a nice hostel called Fatima's in a grass hut with no floor and only mosquito nets protecting the beds (no bedding actually provided, which was too bad since it was winter and we had no sleeping bags). Tofo Beach is a quiet, idyllic stretch of sand where, apart from diving and snorkelling with the whale sharks, there isn't much to do. It seems that an overabundance of young, 20-something Europeans were hanging out there, which led to an awful lot of late night partying and drinking for two old timers like us, who retired almost as soon as the sun went down.

That's okay, though, we were here for only one reason. The next day we were off in the zodiac boat in search of whale sharks. The dive centre gives everyone a snorkel, mask and fins. They zip out in the tiny boat amongst 10 foot tall swells. When they see a large dark shadow just below the surface they yell "out of the boat" at which point you foolishly obey and throw yourself into the ocean. Close to drowning due to his inability to swim (not really sure why he went in the first time, I think we forgot he was a land lubber), Gilles managed to have a close encounter on his one and only time out of the boat, almost landing on top of the hapless whale shark as he enthusiastically plunged into the ocean. After this we managed to find another 3 whale sharks and have a reasonable time viewing them. My advice, however, to all would be whale shark snorkellers is to not go with a boatful of teenage boys. They just couldn't seem to understand that if they dived around the whale shark trying to touch her, she would just sink down away from us to avoid contact. So sadly, my visions of spending half an hour lazily paddling along side one of these bohemoths didn't come to fruition, but it was still an incredible experience.

Anxious to avoid another night in Maputo we left the hostel the next day at about 4AM and headed back to South Africa. Luckily it's a lot easier to get out of Mozambique than it is to get in, so we managed to be back at our favourite hostel, Kruger View, by supper than evening. With only a few days left in South Africa, we decided to rent another car and spend our last bit of time doing what we loved best - safari driving in Kruger Park.

South Africa - the Good...............

Written by Lynn

I loved South Africa. I mean, I REALLY enjoyed it. There was so much to do and see, the people that we met were unfailingly friendly and helpful. But there is a bizarre duality of the society there that may take you awhile to see, and it is tragically easy as a tourist to close your eyes to the problems that are present in this beautiful, vibrant country. This being said, I decided that I should divide the entries on South Africa into two different parts - one good, one bad. I think you need to read both of them to get a feeling for what being in South Africa was like. To read only the good would send you rushing to pack your bags to head off in a flurry for Cape Town armed with only your guide book. To read the other would mean that nothing short of flat out torture would get you to enter the country, meaning you would miss one of the greatest places we visited this year. This being said, consider going to South Africa, just be aware that there is very real danger and a lot of less obvious problems to be had there.

Visually South Africa is just as stunning as New Zealand with its dramatic cliffs and ocean scenery, to its wineries and then on to its amazingly vast lowveld plains. It has the fantastic advantage over other places in that it is teeming with unbelievable wildlife viewing opportunities. From whales to lions, sharks to giraffes; this country has it all.


To start with we flew from Hong Kong to Johannesburg and then caught our connection to Cape Town. Surprisingly, not being very good planners, we did take the unexpected step of booking ourselves into a hostel prior to landing in the country, a little too freaked out by horror stories in South Africa to just catch a bus downtown and look around like we usually do. First surprise - it was COLD. Not "really-should-have-worn-a-long-sleeve-shirt-with-my-shorts" type cold; more of a "we'd-better-go-buy-some-fleeces-and-hats" type cold. It is, after all, winter in the southern hemisphere. But still, it's Africa for God's sake. Anyways, we took care of the mundane clothing issue easily enough with a little shopping at an African type Walmart.

Our second surprise - we really liked Cape Town. The day we arrived it was sunny and bright making the drive into town quite spectacular (except, of course, for the part where you drive by the collection of ramshackle huts that make up the local township). From the airport you loop around the edge of Table Mountain and can see Table Bay spread out beneath you. Our hostel was clean and safe, being run by a couple of Canadians actually. We were located just off Locke Street, a vibrant road filled with shops, restaurants and bars. Being far enough off the road to be quiet, we could also easily get there in the morning for a cafe au lait and fresh baked muffins at one of the cafes.

The next day, unfortunately, the wind picked up, meaning that Table Mountain was closed. It's apparently too dangerous to be up there when the winds are high, so the cable car closes down. So instead we took the ferry out to Robben Island.

Robben Island is infamous for the fact that Nelson Mandela spent the first 18 of his 27 years of imprisonment here. It is a small oval of land, only 1km wide, that sits about 12 km off shore. It was originally a leper colony from 1836 until 1931, and in 1954 became a maximum security prison. During the apartheid years almost 3000 men were being held here, many on charges of treason. The different classes of prisoners were treated to a varying degrees of comfort. Beatings during interrogations were not unheard of and the with holding of already limited food rations was a common punishment. The political prisoners were classified as "D" prisoners, and were considered of the lowest class. They had to do hard manual labour in the limestone quarry and were prevented from mingling with other prisoners. All the D prisoners lived in drafty, damp cells with only a small sleeping pad, one blanket and a pail in their posession. They were allowed to send and receive only 2 letters a year, but these letters were censored by the prison. Any mention of politics, the prison, religion or pretty much anything but family would mean that these sections would be cut out, or the letter thrown away. Often prisoners would receive letters that looked like paper snowflakes after having "sensitive" material removed. The prisoners were also only allowed 2 visits a year from family members who had to apply months ahead of time to be given permission to make the trip.

When you step off the ferry onto the dock of Robben Island you are met by a guide that hustles you onto a bus for a tour of the various facilities and buildings still standing, including the leper graveyard, the quarry and the church built for the wardens' families. There is also the local penguin colony to greet you. The real part of the tour begins when the bus drops you off at the gates of the prison and you are met by a former political prisoner, who takes you through the prison itself and explains what the daily life was like when he was living there. His dignity and obvious respect when he was showing us the cell Nelson Mandela lived in is reflective of the quiet suffering the man himself had that made him such a powerful figure during the fight against apartheid. Several times in the 1980's Mandela was offered release from prison on the condition that he speak out against violence on the government's behalf, and always he refused, once stating, "What freedom am I being offered while the organisation of the people remains banned? Only free men can negotiate. A prisoner cannot enter into contracts." It was a moving moment.

Turns out we were lucky to get to the island when we did, because the winds blew in a storm that lay trapped over Cape Town for the next 2 weeks, a not uncommon occurence. Cape Town is well known for its bad weather, that tends to linger around for days on end, making life generally miserable there. We were warned by the hostel that all the things we were interested in doing around town, short of visiting museums, would be a no go until the weather improved. Undaunted we rented a car, and found that the rumours we had heard were true. Less than two hours away, once beyond the influence of the cloud trapping Table Mountain, the weather was beautiful. With no real plan in mind we drove along the coastal highway admiring the view and feeling like we were back in New Zealand, which we had greatly admired. That is, of course, until a troop of baboons ran across the highway to remind us that, actually, we were in Africa.


We stopped for lunch in the town of Hermanus, reputed to be the world's best place for land based whale watching. Starting in late June, through to October, hundreds of Southern Right Whales, along with a few Humpbacks, fill the bay for months of cetacean speed dating sessions.
As well, many of the calves from last year's successful matings are born here in the warm waters before undertaking the arduous journey to the feed rich waters of the Antarctic for the summer months.

While here we took the advice of a friendly South African couple who saw us pouring over maps in a cafe trying to figure out where to go. They directed us to a small town called Franschoek, in the heart of the winelands. The mountain passes we travelled through on the way there did not disappoint, and that night we stayed at a wonderful hostel called The Otter's Bend. While sitting by the fire we helped ourselves to a bottle of the local vintage. The owner of the hostel was also very helpful with suggestions of things to see and do along the Garden Route (a commonly travelled highway for tourists), then even went so far as to reserve us a safari tent at the Addo Elephant National Park, which he himself considered one of the nicest parks in South Africa.

Well, he was right. We spent two nights there getting our first taste of the "African safari". It should be pointed out here that almost all of the wildlife in South Africa is now confined to game reserves and national parks. Any animal unlucky enough to stray from these ares will very likely end up as someone's supper, poaching being a common local pastime. On the up side, over 6 percent of the land in South Africa is dedicated to formal conservation and if you include private nature reserves the protected land is equal to about 1/3 of the country. The controversy now lies in the courts where various tribes are seeking compensation after being evicted from their traditional homelands to allow for the creation of these same areas. The focus now is to promote the economic benefits of having these preserves in order that they will continue to be an important resource for the new South Africa. Traditionally big game hunting has been viewed as the only way be bring in large amounts of money. In 2006 South Africa earned almost 105 million dollars from hunting revenues, almost 1/10th of a percentage of its GDP. Sounds impressive until you realize that in 1995 tourists brought in over 6 billion dollars in revenue, most of it for wildlife viewing opportunities, and the numbers continue to rise. It is estimated that over the course of its long life, a single elephant can be responsible for earning 1 million dollars in tourist bucks, a lot of it distributed to the local communties rather than just the big corporations that own the airlines and hotels.

Addo is a relatively small game reserve in comparison to bohemoths like Kruger, with a dense population of animals. So you are almost guarenteed to see elephants, kudus, zebras and ostriches. We even got stopped on the road by a large family group of elephants, that milled around the car for a half hour before moving on. With this unique opportunity we managed to see how all the elephants interacted with each other. The babies play, while the teenagers engage in mock charges and battles, and their mothers look on indulgently. The adults will occasionally move in to break up the fights that are getting a little out of hand, and the babies wander around the car to get a closer look at the can of camera toting humans. While it may be anthropomorphising them a bit, you can't help but see all the human characteristics in the way they act.
Which is why the situation for the elephants in both Kruger and especially Addo is so distressing.

In recent years there has been a surge in the population of elephants in several national parks. In Addo it is easy to see the effect on the vegetation, where large swaths of the lowveld bushes are crushed and completely denuded of any leaves. A decade or more ago a similar situation occured and nothing was done. A severe drought followed and resulted in the death of not only most of the elephants, but also several thousand other animals who died of malnutrition. So now they are stuck trying to come up with a solution. Decades ago the glut of elephants would result in a migration to a less populated area. Now, with the populations fenced off and seperated by miles of urban civilization, this is no longer possible. It seems that in Addo they have decided to cull some of the elephants. But the tragic thing is that this does not mean just going in and removing the older members of the herd.

Researchers who spend a lot of time with them tend to refer to an elephant herd as a single entity rather than a group of individuals. Watching a group of elephants you will see extaordinary teamwork as they co-operate in group defence, child rearing and decision making. Elephants communicate with over 70 distinctive vocal sounds and 160 identified visual and tactile signals, expressions and gestures. Using low frequency rumbles, they can communicate with other elephants over a mile away, who pick up these signals through special sensors in their padded feet. When one of the members of the herd dies, the elephants will go into a period of mourning, standing vigil over the body for up to a week and ritualistically covering it with branches and dirt. For years afterwards the elephants will return to the site and with their trunks, rub the lower jaw bone of the skeleton, much in the same way elephants will greet each other by touching trunk to cheek. Since an adult elephant has no natural enemies, most will die of starvation at 60 to 80 years of age, as the last of their teeth fall out. The young elephants are very dependant upon the guidance of their elders as they mature, a baby never straying more than 15 feet from its herd for the first 8 years of its life. Removal of older members of a herd causes a delay in the proper social behaviour development for the young. This was shown to be true during a previous cull of older bull elephants in Addo. The remaining young bulls started to exhibit extreme aggression towards each other, so much so that there was an increase in mortality with 90 percent of deaths as a result of inter-male fighting, rather than the usual 6 percent seen in a stable group. The re-introduction of a few older bulls quickly restored order and normalized the death rates.

Young elephants who have been exposed to the traumatic and violent deaths of cargivers in the herd have been shown to exhibit symptoms of what is likened to post traumatic stress disorder - hyperaggression, abnormal startle response, insensitive mothering and asocial behaviour. Cases like this have been documented in Kruger Park where, up until 1994 when public protests stopped the practice, yearly culls of older animals took place. What this all amounts to is that should a cull be deemed necessary, an entire herd - matriarch to newborn - will be taken out all at one time, a job I envy no one.

Slightly distraught over this prospect I questioned several field guides and game wardens that we met about alternatives. It seems that it is too late for birth control measures, even if there were some effective and economical means of contraception for elephants presently available. Fortunately in Kruger they are working on an innovative solution. Presently the governments of South Africa, Mozambique and Zimbabwe are working to create the world's largest nature preserve that would incorporate three protected areas that share borders - Kruger National Park in South Africa, Coutadal 16 in Mozambique and Gonorzrou in Zimbabwe. This would mean that 60,000 square miles, approximately the size of Florida, would be opened up for migration purpose. Because of recent wars in both Zimbabwe and Mozambique, there are virtually no elephant herds left in these areas, all of them having been poached for bush meat and ivory. The plan is to translocate entire herds at the cost of $2500 an elephant into these recovering ares. A noble, if outrageously expensive, plan.

Anyways, three days of driving around Addo and sleeping in a very comfortable safari tent overlooking the park is highly recommended to anyone. We were even blessed one night by a visit from a small spotted Genet on our porch where we were BBQ'ing our dinner. Nicknamed "Bob", our friend spent the night crouched on the edge of the stairs; not quite trusting us, but lured by the promise of chicken.

We rushed back to Cape Town after this, only to find that in our absence the weather hadn't changed much. So we decided to base ourselves in Hermanus. There was a few reasons for this. As it was the beginning of whale watching season I spent many hours walking along the extensive Cliff Paths the town has. Here, come September/October, you can often see whales less than 100 metres from shore. In early June the best I got was being able to watch a few early arrivals for the season breaching through my binoculars, but still a breath taking sight. As well there were several penguin colonies in the area, these ones being much easier to see the birds from than the ones we had been at in New Zealand.

The real reason we were here, though, is because Gilles had became taken with the idea of diving with Great White Sharks, an activity available no where else in the world. Just a few kilometres off shore is Shark Alley, one of the most densely populated shark highways on the globe. Their reason for being here - easy, take out lunches. Cape Fur seals breed by the thousands on Dyer Island and Seal Island (about 50,000 at last count!) meaning the sharks stop in here on their annual migration to eat (though little to nothing is actually known about where they migrate to and from). The large amount of natural chum created by the carcasses of the seals, sea birds and fish in the area, as well as all the feces and urine put up a horrible stink that the sharks apparently cannot resist (yum, I know).

So to address the various concerns about shark diving. First off, Mom, we're in a metal cage, so as long as you are smart enough to keep your toes and fingers inside, you should be pretty safe. Secondly - the impact on the sharks. Well, we did have some legitimate concerns regarding this, so asked several questions. There are a limited number of companies that are engaged in shuttling tourists out for this activity. All of them are restricetd to carrying 25kg of chum a day. This translates into about 4 to 5 tuna heads. Once this is eaten, the tour is finished. So it is in the company's best interest to not allow the sharks to feed. Instead the chum is used to attract sharks to the area, and then pulled away. Almost all of the sharks who show up are juvenilles, the adults being too smart to bother with dead fish when there is fresh seal meat so close. And because this is a migratory pathway, none of the sharks are here for more than a day, meaning the effect on their natural hunting behaviour is limited. Maybe not an "ecofriendly" adventure, exactly, but it certainly increases your respect for these amazing animals, a fact that the companies tout as a big reason for allowing shark diving. Knowing and respecting these guys a little more means people are less likelly to be unreasonalbly fearful of them.

This being said it was an AWESOME experience. We had to wait a few days for the weather to clear and the seas to become calm enough to go. We saw several sharks, the longest of which was a mere 12 feet long (adults can reach up to 21 feet). It should be pointed out that the most impressive thing about seeing these guys, what really blows you away, is not just the length, but the massive girth of them. You visually have trouble taking it in. The immense strength in them is obvious too as they casually glide by, then with a small flick of their tail propel themselves through the water. Gilles was "lucky" enough to have a close encounter when the crew did not pull the tuna heads in fast enough and shark crashed into the cage.

Replete with our animal viewing we left Cape Town to fly to Johannesburg and go on our actual safari in Kruger National Park. I will confess that we were a little concerned that we wouldn't be impressed by Kruger, after everything we had seen. And going on an organized safari is very expensive, in spite of us booking the cheapest one we could find. As well, to be perfectly honest, we were a little afraid of Jo'burg (reasons for this to be discussed in the next post). So we booked a room at a hostel just a few miles away from the airport and flew in the day before our safari. This meant by 5AM the next morning we were gone from the city, with never even having seen it.

The good news was the safari was anything but a disappointement. We had a great group of 5 "kids" with us (all less than 25 years old), from Brazil, Ireland and Scotland, and spent 2 nights at a wonderful camp on the edge of the park. The first day we drove out there the 6 hours from Jo'burg, then we had a night drive where we saw, well, nothing, unless you count a glowing bird's eye as exciting. But after a very cold night (it is winter after all) spent in our tents we loaded up in our open safari truck and entered the real Kruger park.

Wow. Enough said. This place is amazing. Within the first hour we had seen rhinos, impalas, giraffes and zebras. Over the next several hours we managed to catch sight of a leopard slinking away from its kill (an unfortunate impala wedged in the crook of a tree); a large bull elephant playing in a mud hole; buffaloes and countless birds. And the great thing about Kruger is this is all in the animals' natural surroundings, completely unspoiled. Its kinda like someone coming into your living room and watching you eat a pizza while watching a hockey game. The animals themselves are so accustomed to people that they basically ignore you, fully expecting you to stop as they amble across the road. You can't be guaranteed to see anything of course (except impalas, the little antelopes that the guides call "lunch on the run" because they are so numerous), but we were exceptionally lucky even the first day.

We were then temporarily sidelined when our truck got a flat tire. Well, maybe it was a little more serious than temporary, since our truck was without a tire spanner, so our guide couldn't change the flat. Since you are DEFINITELY not allowed to exit your vehicle in Kruger (I can give you several unsubstantiated stories the guides shared with us of dumb tourists who did just that and didn't live to tell the tale; these are, after all, WILD animals) we were stuck there. It turned into a five hour delay in our schedule, while the safari company tried to track us down. Turns out for us this was a good thing, as it meant a highly illegal night drive through Kruger Park (the gates close at dusk and you need to be OUT or face a large fine and a lifetime ban). We saw a lion pride, another leaopard and elephants galavanting in the setting sun. It wasn't so great for our guide, who was sweating bullets because being caught meant the loss of his job. But we made it out ok, if a little cold, and bought our guide a beer to calm his nerves.

The next day we left the park to do a scenic drive along several look out points, then headed to a four star hotel built right beside the brand new Jane Goodall Chimpanzee Rescue Centre.

Chimps are not native to South Africa, but as the political climate and access to veterinary care is more ameniable here, the rehabilitation centre was set up and opened less than six months ago. There are presently 17 adult and juvenille chimps housed here, as well as a few babies. They are all resuced from various parts of Africa, the deal being that once rehabilitated, they will be returned for release to their native country. This may eventually create problems as the centre demands that they be released in protected areas that are monitored for poachers, but it will be years before any of this becomes an issue. The rehabilitation is done in a series of steps that take the chimps from an isolation pen to an outdoor cage where they are fed, to one where they have to hunt for the food provided, then finally to an enormous fenced in area where they are monitored with no human contact and they have to fend for themselves. Time to full rehabilitation is dependant upon how the individual chimp functions, but it is expected to take years. The stories of how they ended up here are varied, but almost all are very sad. Chimps, being incredibly social animals, tend to not do well on their own. Most of these guys had grown up without the benefit of interaction with other chimps. They were pets, novelties, tourist draws; that is until they came of adult age and turned destructive and angry. An adult male chimp has the strength of 7 men, and these guys are so much bigger and stronger than I expected them to be. Often, once they display any aggression, they are just shot, and a new cute baby chimp is obtained.

Nikki had been chained up in a bar, where he was taught to drink alcohol and smoke cigarettes. Amadeus grew up in a private home, where his owner shaved off his body hair, dressed him in human clothes, taught him to eat with a fork and even had him sleep in his bed. Xena's story was not so tragic, but touching in its own way. She was owned by a Saudi family that loved her dearly. When they took her to a vet for a health check up they were informed that not only was it illegal to have a chimp as a pet, but that without interaction of other chimps she could never develop normally. So the Saudi family paid out of their own pocket to have her brought out to the rescue centre, a whopping $10,000, in the hopes that she would one day be released back into the wild to live a normal life.

So that was the end of our organized safari. Not being satisfied with our limited Kruger experience, we got dropped off in the town of Nelspruit, just a half hour from the gates and rented another car so we could go back into the park on our own. In total, between the safari and our own driving time, we spent 6 days, dawn 'til dusk, driving through Kruger. One of the advantages of Kruger is that it is never the same from one day to the next. It has an amazing variety of landscape. Everything from watering holes, river valleys, lowveld plain and thickets, it's all here, and all the variety of animals that inhabit them. After the first few days of staring around looking for the "big" five - buffalo, elephant, lion, leopard and rhino - you start to notice the smaller and less common stuff. We were lucky to see 2 cheetahs (there are only 200 in the park), secretary birds, monitor lizards, black backed jackals, hyenas, leopard tortoises and mongooses (is that "mongeese"?) to name a few things. And big or small, we loved it all!

Of course we didn't spend 6 days in a row in Kruger, I don't think anyone can concentrate for that long (there are many hours you spend just staring at blowing grass). In between visits we went to Swaziland and Mozambique, but we can discuss those later. We also varied it by at first staying in the park, then at a great hostel, called Kruger View, in the town of Komatipoort. It was less than 10 minutes to the gate and owned by a great guy called Dave, and guarded by his two vicious pups, Choc and Sandy. We'd highly recommend it to anyone thinking of going to Kruger.

Well just rereading this post I am exhausted and exhilirated. We spent 5 weeks in South Africa and they were probably the most action packed of our trip. I would emphasize again that this was a great country, BUT (ain't there always a but) you might want to read the next post..........

................the Bad, and the Ugly

Written by Lynn

As I said in the post you read just before this, I loved South Africa. It may have been the most action packed 5 weeks we had on the road, with so much to see and do. To clarify things however, this is not to say that South Africa is without its problems. First and foremost, anyone thinking of visiting South Africa has to be aware of its outrageously high crime rate.

Just before we left Johannesburg I was reading the newspaper with my morning coffee and they were reporting on the 2006 crime rates. There was almost 20, 000 murders last year in this country. Sounds high, but what does it really mean. To put things in perspective I looked up some stats on Canada. There are, annually, 2.1 murders/100,000 people at home. In South Africa it is 50.8/100,000 (I even saw reports as high as 414/100,000, though I think these were greatly exaggerted; at least I hope so). Even more disturbing is that South Africa is considered the rape capital of the world, with a ridiculously high rate of child abuse. Some say this is because of the all too common urban legend that sex with a virgin can cure you of AIDS. With a HIV infection rate that was estimated at 21.5% of the population in 2003 (recent stats put the rate of infection of pregnant mothers admitted into hospitals at a staggering 33%) there is no getting around the importance of this disease in the developement of the mindset of imminent death amongst the South African poor (ie. black). This feeling has a direct effect that leads them into lives of crime in an attempt for short term gains. Other violent crimes, such as car jackings and home invasions are also rampant. Every day in South Africa there are 50 murders, 150 rapes and 700 serious assaults.

Well, I will say categorically we had no problems what so ever, even though we walked around Cape Town after dark a few times (only because our ferry from Robben Island got back late). So we were feeling pretty complacent. Those that promote South Africa as a tourist destination (and it needs a lot of promotion, tourism rates are dropping and almost entirely because of the fear of crime) say that the majority of is confined to urban areas, mainly the poor black townships, and that almost all the violent crimes are committed by people known to the victims. We just figured you had to be careful and everything would be fine - don't walk around alone at night (especially if you are a woman), lock your car doors when you are driving in the city (prevents someone from pulling you out when you are stopped at a red light) and don't flash expensive jewellery and cameras around. ALL the hostels we stayed in had locked gates and even security guards at some. The car rental company was very clear that not only were we to take everything out of the car every night, but that we should leave the glovebox open and the flap to the hatchback up so that anyone looking in would know for sure there was nothing to steal. We don't tend to engage in risky behaviour, like going out drinking at bars, so we felt pretty good about the situation.

That is until we stayed at our last hostel in Jo'burg. There the owner took me to a local restaurant place to pick up some take out pizza and I bought him a beer while we were waiting. Constantly curious about what different South Africans think about the situation in their country, I always try to subtly ask questions about it, trying to be careful to not offend anyone. Some just politely ignore the questions, or give very brief answers, but not this guy. Wow, once the flood gates opened even I wished I hadn't asked. He had grown up in the house that we were staying at, then had been in the military during the apartheid uprisings, and now was retired and running a hostel. He said that up until a decade ago he had never had any problems in the neighbourhood, but in the last 5 years there have been 21 attempts to break into his house. He described in great detail about how he was mugged at gunpoint and said he never carries a gun himself because it just gives someone a reason to shoot you in order to steal it. We sat at the bar and he pointed out various people and described to me how they had been victims of crimes. He scoffed at the numbers that were given in the papers saying that, the rapes in particular, were probably only reported half the time so the stats weren't even close to being accurate. He figures about 10% of the backpackers that stay with him have been mugged and almost none of them bother to report it to the police. He said a lot of other things too, much of it mind boggling because in any other country or situation it would be considered naked racism, though it sadly seems here that he was only voicing out loud what a lot of people are thinking. By the time my pizza came I was just sitting there with my mouth hanging open, the vitriol I induced by a simple question leaving me (uncharacteristically) speechless.

Well, this brings us to a HUGE problem here - racism. We all know about "apartheid", but I think, in my case at least, I was under the impression that the release and election of Nelson Mandela in the 1990's had brought about great, positive changes for South Africa and that, while there were still hurdles to overcome, things were on the road to recovery. A truly naive veiw point as it turns out.

It's a strange society here. 75% of the population is black, 11% white and about 14% "coloured" ( a term used in South Africa to denote people who are oriental, Malay or Indian; though a notable exception during apartheid were the Japanese who were considered honorary whites for trade reasons). It is said (and I believe it) that about 90% of the money in this country is in the hands of the white population. It is probably true to say that the problems are between different economic levels, rather than different colours, but here it amounts to the same thing. And the real issues began decades before, though "apartheid" (meaning "seperateness" in Afrikaans) is what most of us remember.

The organized, and greatly reviled, institution of apartheid began in 1948 when ethnic seperation began to be enforced. A cynical person may say the white government looked around and realized that, even though they controlled the country economically, the numbers were against them, so they began to take steps to correct the problem before voters could be rallied to vote them out. The black populations were assigned to one of ten bantustans (homelands). Some may never have even been there in their lifetimes, but as a citizen of one of these "sovereign nations" (none of which were ever recognized by the UN) it meant that no black person had a vote in South Africa. The bantus themselves made up 13% of the land in South Africa, and were placed in the most desolate, least productive areas possible. The government then went on to pass laws that prevented blacks from moving from one district to another without written permission. Complete segregation was impossible as white owned farms, factories and homes needed the cheap labour the black population provided. So apartheid was introduced. In 1950 the Population Registration Act had all citizens of South Africa assigned a race based on superficial and often arbitrary characteristics such as size and shape of the nose, curliness of the hair and skin tone. The races were assigned different residential and business sections using the Group Areas Act, many people, both black and white, being forcibly moved from their homes. In some cases families were not able to live together as certain members could be deemed to be of different races. In just Johannesburg area over 60,000 black people had been relocated to Soweto, their businesses and homes stripped from them. Many of the designated black residential areas were so far from their places of work that people had to travel 2 hours each way to get home.

A series of edicts enforced by the government followed. In 1950 the busy government officials also created the Immorality Act (which made sexual relations between races a criminal offence), and the Suppression of Communism Act ( which banned any political parties the government deemed to be "communist" which, not surprisingly, included the black run ANC). In 1953 it was the Seperate Amenities Act (creating different hospitals, schools, beaches and buses for the different races). By the end of 1954 only 10% of the population controlled 95% of the land and all its resources.

What followed were years of persecution of the black population. In 1955, as an example, Sophiatown, the oldest and most economically viable black township in the country, was levelled and its entire population relocated to make room for the white town of Triomf (which means "triumph" in Afrikaans). Passports were denied to black South Africans as they were not officially considered citizens of the country, and pass laws became more rigidly enforced, restricting the movement of the black population severely.

In 1955 the Freedom Charter was declared by the black run African National Congress. It stated its goal as being as follows:

We, the people of South Africa, declare for all our country and the world to know: that South Africa belongs to all who live in it, black and white, and that no government can justly claim authroity unless it is based on the will of the people; that our people have been robbed of their birthright to land, liberty and peace by a form of government founded on injustice and inequality; that our country will never be prosperous or free until all our people live in brotherhood, enjoying equal rights and opportunities..................

The main focus of this document, and the reason it was considered so dangerous to the ruling parties, was its focus on a non-racial South Africa. It was immediately declared a communist act and the document became restricted material. As such, almost no one had ever read it prior to the 1990's, and it was a commonly held belief amongst the white population that it was calling for the expulsion, by force if necessary, of all Afrikaaners from the country. The declaration of the Freedom Charter led to the Treason Trial, where 156 activists, including Nelson Mandela, were tried. The trial lasted over 4 years and resulted in no convictions. Many of these defendants were re-tried and convicted in 1964 during the Rinova Trial. This trial was denounced by the UN and political sanctions instituted by many European countries.

By 1962 the ANC and other black political parties had reached the point where they deemed violent acts of protest to be necessary. When questioned as to their motives they held up the example of the Sharpville Massacres, which occured on March 21, 1960. During a peaceful protest against the pass laws 300 police opened fire on the crowd, killing 69 people and injuring 186. This convinced the ANC to take up armed resistance. In retaliation, Prime Minister Verwoerd declarecd a state of emergency which allowed the police to retain people without trial, resulting in the arrest of almost 18,000 black activists, several who were sent to Robben Island as political prisoners.

By the 1970's the resistance movement had gained force. External pressure from other countries continued to mount against the South African government, but they refused to change their policies. Instead, in 1974 they introduced the South Afrikaans Medium Decree, which was to be used to force black schoools to use the Afrikaaner language, which many blacks considered to be the language of oppression. Said the then Deputy Minister of Bantu Education: "I have not consulted the African people on the language issue and I'm not going to. An African may find that the "big boss" only speaks Afrikaans or English. It would be to his advantage to know both."

On April 30, 1976 the Orlando West Junior Shcool in Soweto refused to go to school in a form of non-violent protest that was strongly encouraged by the South African Students' Organization, run by Steve Biko, who was influenced by the ideology of Martin Luther King Jr. and Mahatma Ghandi. The strike spread to other schools, and on June 16th there was a mass rally, at which the police again opened fire on school children. By the end of the day there were 172 blacks dead and 439 injured. Pictures of a 13 year old child being gunned down by the police made headlines across the world. At this point, even Steve Biko began to call for more strident protests, though he strove to be a voice of reason in a boiling cauldron of violence.

In 1977 Steve Biko was arrested for being in a restricted area without a pass. Following his arrest, he was badly beaten and left untreated for 3 days, prior to being driven over 700 miles in the back of a truck to the Pretoria hospital where he died a few hours later. His death was ruled a suicide in spite of the massive head injuries recorded on the autopsy report. His death rocked the nation and his funeral was attended by 1000's of mourners and several international delegates, ambassadors and diplomats from Europe and the United States. What followed was an increase in international protests against apartheid - investors were pressured to not invest in South African companies, sports teams were banned from international events and South African tourism boycotted. By the late 1980's the USA, UK and 23 other countries had imposed trade sanctions on South Africa.

Internally, from the late 1980's and into the 1990's the ANC and the PAC began to use violence to prevent blacks from buying goods or using businesses owned by whites. Black on black violence escalated, resulting in a murder rate increase on 100 deaths/month up to 259 deaths/month by 1993.

Finally bowing to international and internal pressure, Nelson Mandela was released on Feb. 11, 1990, 27 years after his imprisonment. This came only a few weeks after the election of a new, more moderate Prime Minister, Frederik de Klerk. He would eventually share a Nobel Prize with Nelson Mandela, awarded in 1993 for putting an end to apartheid.

In 1994 Nelson Mandela was voted Prime Minister as head of the ANC, with 62.7% of the votes, in the first time blacks were allowed to vote in South Africa. His government put into place a new constitution which used the Freedom Charter as its basis, and began the long struggle to restructure the country after the damage caused by decades of apartheid. Unfortunately, it seems that even with the best of intentions, life in South Africa has developed all sorts of new problems.

Among other things done they instituted a policy of Black Employment Empowerment (BEE) in order to try and obtain equity targets. Even today government contracts are only given to companies with good BEE ratings. This has led to what many say is open discrimination against whites, increasing the "us vs. them" feeling so obvious to those willing to look. In addition the unemployment rate in South Africa hovers around the 25%, with over 50% of the population living below the poverty line. An influx of people from both Mozambique and Zimbabwe are only compounding the problem of urban crowding and lack of jobs. As these immigrants enter illegally (many from Mozambique crossing through Kruger National Park, which is why it is estimated that 78% of the lions in the park have tasted human flesh!) they remain jobless, homeless and desperate. The result is frustration, rising crime rates and a further division, both physically and emotionally, between black and white South Africans. As the rich whites move into gated communities, the townships continue to grow and spill over into the surrounding cities. In some places you can see shacks made of cardboard and plywood seperated from million dollar mansions by only a concrete wall topped with barbed wire, the ever present security company logo emblazoned on every available surface. There appear to be no solutions, no way for things to become more equitable for everyone. And while it is easy as a tourist in South Africa to only see the good, any effort at all will show you something different. If you probe beneath the surface of the face presented to the world of a country on the brink of recovery from years of oppression it will bring you up against the harsh and ugly reality.

So here's the other side of the story in South Africa. Massive crime rates brought on by unending poverty, despair that things will never get better, and a conviction that life is short (average life expectancy of a black South African is only 42). Throughout this post are scattered pictures of all the great things we saw in South Africa, and I would emphasize again that we really enjoyed ourselves. But after rereading this post, maybe I can ask you to do me a favour and read the first one again, just so I don't leave you with a bad taste in your mouth................

Hockey Night in Hong Kong

Written by Lynn

From Bangkok we flew into the country of Macau, then took a ferry to Hong Kong. "Why?", one might ask, go to all this trouble (we set a new personal record, having been in Macau less than an hour, but still having to get exit and entry stamps). For those of you planning on travelling to Asia, a heads up. There are several incredibly cheap airlines, our favourite being AirAsia. For about $20, plus taxes, you can get to most places in South East Asia if you plan ahead of time. Oh, except Hong Kong..............had to go to Macau for that. But the ferry ride is less than an hour, and gives you a great view of the habour coming in and in the end was cheaper than paying for a visa to go overland through China.

In Hong Kong we got a very small room in a little rabbit warren of guesthouses called Chuking Mansions (the "mansions" part being a bit of a euphamism). Fifteen stories of itty bitty rooms, all managed in various stages of cleanliness, make up this backpackers haven. On the bright side, it's not very many places you can go in Hong Kong and stay for under $25 a night. It was clean and relatively safe (except I didn't exactly trust the staff not to go through our stuff, so we had to lock up every time we left). The worst part of the place was the miniscule elevator that serviced the building. While waiting in the line up for the elevator to descend you could watch the uncomfortable occupants on a closed circuit tv mounted in the lobby, just before entering the crush yourself (god forbid you have backpacks with you!).

Here our main goal was simple - we HAD to see a hockey game. God knows it ain't often a Canadian team makes it to the Stanley Cup finals, much less the Ottawa Senators. So with steely determination we set forth to seek out the only Canadian owned bar in Hong Kong, which necessitated a ride across town in the extremely well designed Hong Kong subway (not near as arduous as I make it sound). Getting there 2 hours before game time, we secured our coveted seats (it's a VERY tiny bar) to watch the taped game. This means we had to nurse our very overpriced beers (most things in Hong Kong seem overpriced after Vietnam), and, hey, who said bar peanuts can't constitute a full meal when push comes to shove. Here, with about 100 of our fellow Canucks crammed into the bar, we watched the Sens go down in flames in Game 2, a 1-nothing debacle that apparently was stretched out to a mere 5 games. Sigh............it was worth it though. Our one and only hockey game of the 2006-07 season.

While in Hong Kong we also went up to The Peak, a peice of pricey real estate that overlooks Hong Kong harbour. The tram that goes up there was built in 1881 and ascends a 1364 metre long slope that reaches a 48 degree angle in some spots. Originally only non-Chinese people living in Hong Kong were allowed to live on top of the peak, social status being measured by the altitude of your home. The tram was used to ferry these Europeans down to the city. This ordinance was finally overturned in 1930, though most of the houses up here are still well beyond the means of us ordinary mortals.

We also headed out to Stanley Market, a touristy little spot that is recommended more for the bus ride out there than the actual place. Hong Kong public buses are huge, double decker affairs that cling to the side of the cliffs overlooking the habour far below as they races around hairpin curves.

Back at "home" we admired the Avenue of the Stars (even though Jackie Chan and Bruce Lee were the only ones we recognized) and Repulse Bay up close. We wandered through the stores and went to our last Asian markets, filled with the usual assorment of cheap knock off designer clothes, sunglasses, bizarre food items and "rolex" watches. Hong Kong's big push when it comes to street sellers is for fake purses and watches, so if that's your thing, this is the place to come.

The day of our flight to Africa, which left at the inconvenient time of 11:30 pm, saw us lugging our backpacks around town post check out (most hotels will let you leave your bags behind the counter at no extra cost for a few hours, and ours was no exception, but we didn't really believe the bags would be completely intact when we came back, so we took them with us). Fortunately Hong Kong is designed with the international traveller in mind. Even though the airport is a 30 minute train ride away, they have a convenient spot downtown where you can check your bags in with your airline up to 24 hours before your flight. Thus relieved of our burdens we headed out to our last destination in Hong Kong. Chatting with some ex-pats living Hong Kong the night before at the bar Gilles had discovered that we narrowly missed not going to his favourite restaurant - Krispy Kreme! Ah, so few people that I know are able to sit down and eat a half dozen donuts one right after the other and look at themselves in the morning without regret. Thus fortified, it was on to South Africa.

Good Morning, Vietnam

Written by Lynn

After spending the better part of a couple weeks in Cambodia, we headed into Vietnam. We had gone back to Phnom Pehn after Angkor Wat with the express purpose of getting our Vietnamese visas. This took a couple days, only because when we went to the embassy I wasn't really paying attention and didn't turn away while one of the officials was accepting bribe money. This meant that all the other tourists there got their visas the same day, we were told to come back in three. Oops..........

We caught the bus into Ho Chi Minh City when we finally managed to get our visas together. HCMC sits in the southern region of Vietnam in the Mekong Delta. Also known as Saigon, HCMC was renamed in 1975 after the Vietnam war was over. I could go into some detail here regarding the war and the high esteem the Vietnamese people hold Ho Chi Minh in (affectionately called "Uncle Ho"), but Gilles is a lot more passionate about this subject, so I will leave this to him.

HCMC is basically another big city in SE Asia, nothing on first appearance to hold your attention. But what you have here is a city that has managed to recover in less than 2 generations from almost complete destruction during the Vietnam War. While here you can take in a lot of history, and from a perspective we aren't usually party to in North America. The war museums and other monuments are DEFINITELY not pro-American. The most important museum to visit is the War Remanents Museum. It has a large number of photographs and memoribilia collected from the war, as well as a few tanks and fighter airplanes. There is also an exact replica of the "tiger cages", a series of tiny cells that was used to house suspected Viet Cong while they were being questioned. Great detail is given to describing the types of torture used to extract information. One of the hardest things to see include a group of photographs of Americans slaughtering Vietnamese. There is one photo of an US soldier moving a body, which he holds up with one hand. There is basically nothing left of the body but the head and an empty bag of skin. You can also see here several human feti preserved in formaldehyde that were aborted due to deformities caused by the spreading of Agent Orange in the country side of Vietnam.

Agent Orange was herbicide used by the Southern Vietnamese Army and their American allies as a defoliant. Since the Viet Cong (elements of the communist Northern Army) were skilled at guerrilla fighting, and the main advantage the US had during this war was air power in the form of helicopters, removing ground cover was deemed a strategic advantage. 42 million litres of dioxins, including Agent Orange, were sprayed over sections of Vietnam from 1961 to 1971, devastating pristine forests and creating wastelands and rice paddies that could no longer produce rice. Agent Orange is the most notorious of the defoliants used due to its proven nature as a carcinogen. Exposure to it dramatically increases the risks of Hodgkin's Lymphoma, non-Hodgkins Lymphoma and chronic lymphocytic leukemia. There has also been a multitude of other diseases that have causitive links to Agent Orange, which is to say that exposure to it means you have a better chance of contracting any of the following - Type II diabetes, prostate cancer, multiple myeloma, spina bifida, skin lesions, renal cancer, testicular cancer and the list goes on. Here in Vietnam one of the most dramatic effects of Agent Orange is as a teratogen, meaning that the DNA of exposed victims is deformed and causes birth defects in the next several generations. Surprisingly it seems that the birth defects are getting worse. The children of Vietnam vets would often only be missing fingers or toes, their grandchildren are often born without limbs. Part of the reason for this may be that Agent Orange continues to be present in the environment, so that levels in successive generations are higher now than they were in the people originally exposed. In the area of Da Nang, Vietnam, Hatfield Environmental, a Canadian company, found in 2006 that the levels of dioxin were 300 to 400 times what would be considered acceptable. The companies responsible for producing Agent Orange, including Dow Chemicals and Monsanto, are still embroiled in several law suits of veterans and their families claiming for compensation. In 1984 there was a settlement worth $180 million, which entitled the most severely affected US soldiers to a whopping $1,200 each to help with their medical costs. In 2005, the Brooklyn Federal Court threw out a lawsuit filed by Vietnam victims of Agent Orange seeking financial compensation from the US government and the companies responsible, saying they had no legal claim.

After the museum the next stop is to go out to the Cu Chi Tunnels. Over 200km of this underground network was created by the Viet Cong for the purpose of hiding from the Southern Vietnamese army and the US military, a good majority of it located just 70km away from Saigon at the terminal end of the important Ho Chi Mihn Trail. The importance of these tunnels to the resistance force (the National Front of Liberation of South Vietnam) can not be emphasized enough. It was begun in 1948 as a way to hide supplies and rebels from the occupying French forces. The series of tunnels dug labouriously in the hard clay were gradually expanded to include housing, hospitals, communication tunnels and supply huts. By the early 1960's the tunnels housed 100's of people literally right beneath American troops. The NLF exhibited incredible levels of ingenuity in both hiding and protecting the tunnels, disguising air holes as termite mounds and setting up a series of booby traps around entrances. These traps, which composed mainly of pits that were hand dug, contained everything from sharpened bamboo stakes, to vicious looking metals wheels designed to rip apart the legs of any soldier hapless enough to fall in. The tunnels themselves were extremely narrow, often too small for the average American to fit into (the picture to the left shows the actual entrance to one of these tunnels). Life within the tunnels was horrendous, exposure to mosquitoes, malaria, cholera, scorpions and rats a constant issue. On the other hand, other than intensive blanket bombings undertaken in the late 1960's for the express purpose of destroying the tunnel complex, soldiers housed in them were safe from most forms of US military attack. The tunnels themselves became such an important and successful tool in the NLF resistance that the American commanders had to design a specially trained group, the so called "tunnel rats", to try and combat their effectiveness.

These days a small section of the tunnels has been turned into a museum where you can transverse just 900 metres (more than enough) in the low lit tunnels that have actually been expanded for tourism purposes. At 5'5" I could barely squeeze through bent over at the waist, Gilles at 5'11" had to bend almost double to make it through. Gilles also took the opportunity to try firing an AK47, though he decided against spending the $60 to fire the hand held rocket launcher.

I think the most incredible thing about Vietnam is that the people are so friendly and welcoming to tourists. Only 30 years after the war, in a country that is still suffering from the effects of what happened, we found that most were happy that we had decided to come and appreciate what is truly a beautiful country.

After HCMC we headed up the coast, visiting the beach towns of Mui Nhe and Nhe Trang. These places are famous for their kite- and wind-surfing, though the weather wasn't so good for this at the time we were there (as evidenced by the following picture that demonstrates how hard it was raining). In Nhe Trang we met up with a couple of other tourists, Wolfgang and Stefan, and embarked on a decidedly ill advised trip to the local bar where we indulged in a horrible drink called a "bucket". Basically you get a plastic bowl filled with ice, place several shots of whatever you have at hand, usually rum, then top it up with red bull and sell it to unsuspecting tourists. So for the first time in 7 months we had a bit of a rough time rising in the morning. More surprisingly it was me who had to usher Gilles home, who happened to be more drunk than I have EVER seen him. Next day - straight to the beach for some recovery time............

From here we took an overnight bus to Hoi An. First off, the buses here are NOT designed for sleeping on, so getting in at 5AM after a restless 12 hours of upright snoozing is not my idea of a good time. But Hoi An was worth it. A beautiful town in its own right, with a UNESCO protected "old town", you can also rent bikes to ride around out to the lovely beach and the surrounding villages. Secondly, the town is famous for its tailors. You come here to buy, buy, buy. For a little over $100 I got 4 pairs of tailored pants, 4 tailored shirts, 3 dresses (one in silk) and a pair of shorts. Gilles likewise indulged having several spectacular dress shirts created. We found a good tailor, and were very sad to leave our new friend, Thuy, who helped us out. While here we also rented a scooter to go out to Marble Mountain, a surprisingly lovely place with enormous caverns created into temples with carved buddha statues adorning hidden little nooks and crannies. We bought some incense sticks to help us ensure good luck on our future travels from some of the older ladies (obvious betel nut addicts from the pictures) at their insistence (as in they followed us around sticking the bundles into our faces until we decided it would be easier to buy them than to put up with this for the whole day).

From here it was an overnight train (immeasurably better than the bus, being that we had sleeping platforms, though since we were in the top ones we were unable to sit up for the 12 hour journey) to Hanoi, the last stop on our Vietnam tour. In Hanoi we booked our tour of Ha Long Bay and spent a few days wandering the streets while waiting for this to depart. Our big outing was to see the Ho Chi Minh Masoleum and Museum. The museum is basically a shrine to the life of Ho Chi Minh, the downstairs being taken up with photos, letters and various memoribilia from his life. The upstairs is a bizarre, but wonderful, Dali-like extravaganza that highlights Vietnam's struggle for independence and the underlying socialism that formed the basis for "Uncle Ho's" life long quest for nationalism. You can also line up with literally thousands of Vietnamese that are here to file past and view the preserved body of Ho Chi Mihn, which is set up Lenin-style in the corresponding building. Before entering all of your cameras, cell phones and other electronic equipment is confiscated to prevent photo taking (this photo was "borrowed" from another website), and then you file past a number of guards (a total of 3 who searched my purse for smuggled camera equipment) and signs cautioning you to be sober and respectful. When you get to the room housing Ho Chi Mihn absolute silence is enforced, and you are to briskly walk past the body, pausing only to pay homage briefly before being ushered onwards. I think the experience of seeing so many locals overwhelmed by the presence of the great man was more impressive than the body itself, which resembles a figure from a wax museum, though in remarkably good condition, considering he died in 1969.

From here it was on to Ha Long Bay, the Bay of Descending Dragons. The bay itself has more than 1900 limestone monolithic islands topped with jungle vegetation, which rise from the surrounding ocean to tower over the boats full of tourists travelling beneath. Over 95% of people who come to Vietnam participate in a outing in the bay, and rightly so. Staying overnight on a boat so that you can watch the sun set over the bay was definitely a highlight of our trip. And for $45 for a 3 day trip, how can you complain?!

Well, Vietnam was a beautiful country and a wonderful experience. It is apparently the least expensive country to visit in South East Asia (which is really saying something) and they love their foreigners here, being well aware that the tourist industry is responsible for a large part of their national gross income. I'd highly recommend it to anyone, though I would suggest that you try to get out to Sapa or further into the Mekong Delta than we did, as a trip along the coast basically means going from one hectic city to another. From Hanoi we flew back to Bangkok to visit with our friends Tracey and Michel before taking off to Hong Kong, our final stop in Asia.

GO SENS GO!!!

Coming soon..............the Ottawa Senators, winners of the 2007 Stanley Cup