Impressions d'Afrique (1)

We arrived Friday night after quite a long journey: 6 hours to Amsterdam, a three-hour layover at Schiphol (which is essentially a shopping centre) and then an 11-hour daytime flight to Cape Town. In one of my classes, we are reading about the continents and their north-south or east-west geographical orientation. This was driven home to me in dramatic fashion during this long flight. We crossed from northern Europe and over the Mediterranean in about two hours, but it took nine hours to fly from the north to the south of the continent of Africa.
A daylight flight is never easy, as people talk and the lights are on all the time; however, even though I wasn't lucky enough to get a window seat, I did manage to peek out the emergency door porthole from time to time. From 40,000 feet, I had a clear view of the magnificent and foreboding landscape: desert as far as the eye can see, tiny rivulets bordered in green, beige rocky mountains. We traversed the Sahara and the Sahel, and I was able to view mile after mile of desolation, punctuated (to my surprise) by communities and roads.
This part of the flight reminded me of a book I had read some time ago: The Vanishing Sahara by William Langeweische (I think that's the title). In it, the author (an airline pilot) describes the dangers and beauties of the Sahara desert, its climate, and its people. I remember a chapter called “The Physics of Blown Sand”, and another passage which described the physiology of death by thirst. This dramatic passage explores in great detail what people will do when they are in the throes of a thirst: drink engine oil, gasoline, and even their urine. I once wanted to sue this book in class, and was disappointed to learn that it was no longer in print. You can probably find it now on amazon.
Another fun (?) part of the flight was watching the little animation of an airplane slowly making its way to the destination. The map displays names of cities and towns as you approach them: Tamanrasset, which I had read about it Langeweische's book; N'Djamina (in Mali?); and as we neared our destination, the familiar Gabarone, capital of Botswana, now well-known to some of my students. We crossed Algeria and Sudan, Congo and countries of west Africa, Namibia and Angola. Quite a geography lesson.
On Saturday morning, we joined a tour group (something we don't often do, but we figured it would be the best way to see some out-of-the-way places). Our destination was the Cape of Good Hope, the most south-westerly point in Africa (not the southernmost; that distinction is held by a spot somewhat to the east, where the Atlantic Ocean and the Indian ocean “meet”). Our little group was composed of some lovely people from all over the world; with the guide, we were twelve, and all day long we piled into and out of our “little white van”, stopping at some magnificent and impressive locations.
Our tour took us south of Cape Town on the Atlantic (west) side of the Cape Peninsula, at the tip of which is the Cape of Good Hope. We were lucky enough to take the drive along Chapman's Peak Road, one of the most scenic drives on the planet, with hairpin turns, sheer cliffs above, and magnificent views of the crashing ocean below. The road had been closed for maintenance (apparently, nets have to be put up periodically to secure the overhanging rocks, lest they tumble down and crush the cars) and had reopened to traffic only the day before. We were some of the first to make use of it that day, and I can say, it was quite an experience. I don't think I would have been capable of driving myself (as in South Africa, people drive on the other side), so I was happy to have a professional driver and guide to do all the work.
On the way down the coast, we stopped to view little towns, white sand beaches which stretched as far as the eye could see, and opulent luxury residential communities hidden behind tall walls, barbed wire and alarms. We also drove by so-called “townships”, roughly akin to Canadian native reservations, replete with the same “amenities” and “services” available to our aboriginal people at home. As we are attending a conference on housing in South Africa, we hope to be able to have a tour of the townships. A taxi driver explained to us that we needed to be accompanied by a local guide who spoke the language, as it could be dangerous to wander around on our own.
After an hour or so, we reached the cape. It seemed to be like any other coastline, except that it had a plaque indicating its latitude and longitude, and I took the obligatory tourist photo to prove that I had been there. I am going to add it to my collection of “longitude and latitude” photos (Victoria, BC; Greenwich, England). The most impressive aspect of the Cape of good Hope was the wind. It felt as if I had stuck my head out the window of a moving airplane. I am not a small person, but I thought I was going to be blown away. It was not hard to imagine the conditions on a sailing ship of the fifteenth century in a storm.
We made our way to Cape Point, a short drive away, and rode the funicular to the top. You can opt to climb, but we chose the easy way. Once again, we were not disappointed with the views from the top: crashing waves, blue ocean, flocks of seabirds hovering and diving, and again, the howling wind. It was one of the most impressive views I have ever seen, and I will long remember it.
After a short lunch stop where we traded stories with our fellow travellers (some of whom have really extensive travel experiences), we continued our drive back up the eastern side of the Cape Peninsula. We stopped to have a quick look at the Boulders penguin colony (not exactly “March of the.., but amusing nevertheless). The penguins are not the typical black-and white tuxedo-clad ones of your imagination, Disney films, and toy-store fame, but smaller (but just as cute) African penguins. They have the familiar waddle and puzzled look, and basically either ignore you or pose as you take their picture. I pretended I was a wildlife photographer with my very basic snapshot-taker, and wished I'd had a massive SLR with a powerful zoom. Oh well, in my dreams.
Our final stop was the Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens, a venue which could easily take an entire day to visit. South Africa, apparently, is home to its own floral kingdom, and has a greater variety of species than almost anywhere else on earth, including their native flower, the protea, which comes in many varieties and is see everywhere. The Gardens sits in the shadow of Table Mountain, a giant flat-topped mountain which dominates the landscape of Cape Town. The atmosphere was serene, and the day complete.
Evening, we had dinner at the Waterfront, visited some of the touristy craft shops (which I MUST return to!) and prepared for our next day's adventures.
More later.