From South Africa to Cameroon

Saturday November 29^th, my alarm woke me up at 4:30am. I was in a backpackers in Johannesburg. After not even three hours of sleep, I really didn’t want to get out of bed. But knowing that a new exiting travelling full of adventures is waiting for me, I quickly shut off the alarm, took my packed backpack with all stuff necessary to survive three months in Africa and silently quit the room where my friends from Stellenbosch (that we joined only the previous evening, at least we had time for farewell party in Jo’burg) were still sleeping. Mouna, half-asleep, wished me happy journey before falling asleep again. That’s when our journey went in two different ways.

A taxi was already waiting for me outside. The driver was a cool guy, we discussed a lot on the way to the airport.

I was already in the departure hall when I realized I don’t have a phone! No, I forgot it in the car. I ran outside but the taxi had already left of course. So the activity while waiting for the boarding was clear – to buy a new phone (my 4^th phone in South Africa). Regarding my phone consumption here, I chose the cheapest option. And I found such a phone very useful later in Cameroon where I had only rarely access to electricity. A phone which remains charged forever and has a torch light is much more useful there than an Iphone ;)

I spent a day on the plane. The flight was without problem, I spent one hour in Kigali where I could admire beautiful landscape of Rwanda while landing, and I landed safely in Douala at 6:30pm. As I left the plane, I could immediately feel that sticky weather. It was really hot even though it was already dark. I went through the vaccination control, passport control, got a stamp into my passport. Now, just get my luggage and quickly to the bus station!

But… wait. “C’est fini!” I heart airport staff saying. What? What is finished? I am asking together with other at least twenty passengers still waiting for their luggage. Luggages of all people travelling from Johannesburg via Kigali had been left in Kigali.

So I had to wait for a document about a delayed luggage. The problem was that I was supposed to take a bus in the evening and before me there were other twenty angry people waiting for the same document. I became to be nervous… “I really need to catch that bus!” I thought. Finally after an hour I got what I needed, quickly withdraw some CFA francs (=money) and fetched up a taxi that would drive me to the bus station Amour Mezam.

“It’s 45min drive,” told me the driver. We drove a while when got stuck in traffic jams. “Is it normal?” I asked the driver to know if these are considered in those 45minutes. “Yes but usually they are not already here but only further in the city,” he replied. I began to be more nervous again. Will I be on time for the bus? “Don’t worry, all buses to Bamenda leave after eleven,” the driver ensured me.

Finally it took 75min to get to the bus station. It was 9:15pm, the bus was still there! I felt a big relief.

But it would be too easy (and I would not write such a detailed article about it) if I would have just got on the bus at this moment and gone to Bamenda where I was supposed to meet people from Kedjom-Keku NGO which I was going to work for.  

The window where we buy the tickets for the bus was closed. People waiting for the departure of the bus were sitting just next to it so I asked where I can get the ticket. One kind man told me he would go and look for the man who was selling them. However that person said there was no seat available in the bus anymore. All tickets had been sold out. “Are you sure you wouldn’t find any? I can even sit on the ground!” I tried to convince the guy. But his answer remained the same. No, no place available. (Which, after having seen that Cameroonians always find place for everybody even in a small car where you wouldn’t expect somebody still can squeeze in, does not sound very convincingly now to me).

Tired after the flight and previous night when I did not sleep much, being without my backpack and now with a vision of night which I would have to spend alone in the streets of Douala, I began to be little bit desperate.  

Luckily there was still that kind man who saved me. “Don’t worry, it’s not a big deal, go with Vatican!” (except that he was speaking in French; luckily I do speak French). “Vatican?” I didn’t understand. That gentleman explained me that it was another bus company. However, in Cameroon, they do not have one bus station where would operate several companies. No, every company has its own bus station. So I had to go to another place. “Are you sure they still have a place available?” I asked with some doubts. The reply was positive and I didn’t have a choice anyway so I decided to try it there. The gentleman caught a moto-taxi for me and indicated to the driver where he should drop me off. So I climbed on the bike between the driver and one another passenger (at least without the big backpack it was easier to move to another place quickly) and the motorbike took me to Vatican bus station while slaloming between cars in streets of night Douala.

He dropped me off at the bus station and I found out quickly where to buy my ticket. They really still had few places available! I felt a big relieve. Ok, now, everything is going to be fine. I had the seat just behind the driver between two little bit robust persons so I tried to fit between them. I was sitting a bit askew so it was not very comfortable but I didn’t mind, I was happy to be finally on the bus to Bamenda.

The bus left the station about twenty minutes later.

I was sitting next to a driver if this bus company (who was not driving at that moment however, he was only taking the bus as a transport to get home that time). We were discussing little bit and he was complaining about the bad condition of Cameroonian roads. Indeed, they are full of potholes, even in Douala, the biggest city. And so I was heading towards Bamenda throughout the night, bumping on my seat, a robust lady sleeping on my shoulder.

We stopped once to have a break. Immediately, lot of sellers came to us, offering lot of different food. It was dark and I could not identify any of these. Some fruits and then lot of different things wrapped in banana leaves. I discovered most of these later on during my stay in Cameroon (more about it another time).

We arrived to Bamenda in the morning just after the sunrise. People from Kedjom-Keku NGO were supposed to wait for me at Amour-Mezam bus station, not the Vatican one and I was not sure if the sms I was trying to send about this change had been successfully delivered. So I asked the driver if we were passing around the other bus station to drop me off there. It was not on the way but he stopped me and caught a taxi for me which took me to the right station (I love Cameroonian people, as you can see, my experience was really great – I always found somebody to help me).

Taxis in Cameroon work like kind of public transport – they are everywhere, cheap and accessible. You just catch one, ask if he can take you where you need, get sure you agree about the price and you can go.

We stopped several time before to get to the bus station and more people got on until the taxi was full, me sitting on the gear. And I realized it’s completely normal in Cameroon: cars we in Europe,  US or even South Africa consider as being for five persons are seven-seated in Cameroon: Four in the back, three in the front. And there’s enough space for everybody. It’s even possible to fit eight or more persons – it occurred to me few times I was sitting on the driver’s seat WITH the driver, me just like a passenger sitting between the driver and the gear.  Cameroonians indeed can use every single space even where Europeans would swear it is impossible to fill another person/luggage yet. (Once, we were five people on a taxi-moto: four passengers and a driver).

When I got to the bus station, it was still early (6am) and I had to wait a while for the Kedjom-Keku NGO team to come to catch me up. So I was observing the early morning life in Bamenda which was actually quite busy already, merchant setting their stands in the market.

Eventually I met Zdeněk, Zuzka, Martin and Jane; the Kedjom-Keku NGO team. I forgot about all complications I encountered on the way there: everything was alright now and I am even happy about my experience now – at least I have what to tell you now ;) (And it was not such a big deal after all).

I told them about my lost luggage. They ensured me they would find somebody who can pick it up at the airport when it arrives and send it to Bamenda by bus. Meanwhile, they would borrow me some clothes and other things I needed. However, I couldn’t go up to the mountain without a sleeping bag as it’s really cold at night there. So we made use of the network of their great friends in Bamenda and Kenneth was so nice and he borrowed me his sleeping bag for a while I needed.

Then, we just did some grocery shopping in the market and it was time to get to the school! (Kedjom-Keku NGO actually runs a school for the children of local farmers in a remote rural area in the mountains and to educate them about the importance of forest – which they try to save. I will probably write more about it in another article but meanwhile, check its website to know more about this great project!)

We arrived by taxi to the Dor Market from where you can get to the school only by walking or by taxi-moto. No car. We decided to walk. We sent one moto with the shopping and we began our two-hour walk up to the school – Mountain Misty School. (Usually it took us rather 1,5h but this time we stopped at several neighbours to introduce me so it took longer).

And so finally I arrived to the final destination: Mountain Misty School in the middle of beautiful Bamenda Highlands in the North-West Cameroon.

To be continued!

One week in Gauteng

Monday, November 24^th (Day 15)

I had less than one week to spend in Gauteng before to leave to Cameroon. Gauteng (attention, read it like [chauteng] – phonetic transcription for Czech people, for others… well, in Spanish it’s like [jauteng] ;) ), for those who have never heard this name, is a South African province which is the smallest one in terms of area but the most populated one. It is highly urbanized: it contains both the South African capital Pretoria and the largest South African city Johannesburg.

Our first stop was in Pretoria where we immediately visited the neighbourhood where all embassies were situated: actually it’s also what is the most characteristic for Pretoria, the administrative capital. We visited the Cameroonian embassy where I applied for the visa that was supposed to be issued three days later.

We still had few hours to spend in this city before to move just few kilometres next to it to Johannesburg (or Jo’burg as you will hear the most often in the everyday language) so we decided to explore the city centre and to have a look on another important element of this city apart embassies: Union Buildings – the seat of the government where we could admire an immense statue of Nelson Mandela.

At the end of the afternoon, we took Gautrain: the train that connects Pretoria with Johannesburg. “Where are we? Are we back in Europe?” was our first reaction. A very modern train which was on time! (Actually it left even one minute earlier so we missed it and had to wait ten minutes for another one) Where is that famous “African time”? Furthermore, it is prohibited to eat and drink at the train station – again very different from the usual train (metrorail) we are used to take from Stellenbosch to Cape Town (which a lot of white people are scared to take even though there’s no reason for it and they prefer to drive by car) where plenty of salesmen walk through the railway cars with huge plastic bags full of chocolates and chips. And of course, the prize of the tickets was also quite European. Thus within 40 minutes we were in the heart of Jo’burg!

At the train station, we met Thulani, our guide for couple of following days, who had been already waiting for us. He is friend of our fried Tony studying in Stellenbosch but who comes from a township Katlehong close to Johannesburg. We were actually staying at our friend’s place but since he was still busy with his exams in Stellenbosch, his friend from the township took the role of our guide.

It was late afternoon and we need to get quickly to the township before it would get dark. So we quickly passed through crowded streets around the station and arrived to the mini-buses station. We were impressed by the vibe of the city. So busy, market full of people going somewhere, noisy, and what’s more, almost no white people to be seen around (here we begin to realize that Western Cape with Cape Town is really not representative picture of South Africa). Finally we feel like being in Africa even in the city and not only on the countryside. The atmosphere was just great. We began to fell in love with this city.

We succeeded to fit our huge backpacks on our knees in the minibus so as it did not occupy more seats – we would have to pay for two places otherwise – and we were heading, with the sounds of thunders signalizing approaching storm, in this crowded vehicle to Katlehong.

Just a short paragraph about the system of minibuses: there are two fares: one local, another one if you go further. Everybody thus know how much he is supposed to pay and forwards his and his neighbours coins to the driver or a person sitting next to the driver who organizes finances. All this finance staff is happening while driving already – at least, we don’t lose the time. Drivers here are pretty multitask: driving, talking, calculating… and managing to fit the bus in a very narrow space between two other cars to overtake them and go as fast as possible even through the traffic jam.. There are no obstacles for them.

In the township, Thulani led us directly to the house where we were going to stay: a decent house with nice interior. Lot of people imagine shacks and places with very poor sanitation when hear about townships. Indeed, it exists in townships but it’s not only about it. Townships are places where a non-white population lives (legacy of Apartheid and its policy of spatial segregation). And there are also some very nice houses as also black middle class may live there. Actually there are huge inequalities also within the township.

We met Tony’s mother and sister who welcomed us very friendly. In the street, children were playing soccer. Thulani showed township to us and introduced to his friends. Everybody was so friendly! We loved the atmosphere of the township and paradoxically, we realized we even felt safer there than in the city.

We tasted a locally brewed beer called Jo’burg. A bit unusual but quite tasty! They drink it mainly during some festivities. Then, for dinner, we tasted another local speciality: bunny chow, also called a kota. It’s kind of sandwich with chips. For R12 (not even 1€), you get three slices of bread (the white toast bread) filled with chips and different fillings such as cheese veggies, ham, … and of course some chilli which cannot miss (they love spicy). Quite difficult to eat, not very healthy but we enjoyed it ;)

Quite a long day, time to go to bed now! Wait, bed? After many nights of camping, sleeping in our broken tent and on the floor of student residence, the real bed. And very comfortable one!

Tuesday, November 25^th (Day 16)

With Thulani, we visited house of three sisters and one brother. Again, they were very welcoming and friendly. We had an interesting discussion about marriage with them. Lobola (traditionally, a groom has to give a certain number of cattle to the bride’s family, nowadays in the cities, they usually transfer the value of the cattle into money) and all different habits and traditions, importance of parent’s consent and so on. And it was quite difficult for some of them to understand some liberal opinion that one might not want to get married at all.

Then, we continued to Thulani’s grandmother where we also met his cousin who loved to talk. Thus, we learned a lot about the history of Katlehong, about the relation of Katlehong with Soweto, about the meaning of names (in most of African cultures, names have a clear meaning).

Wednesday, November 26^th (Day 17)

In the morning, we visited the Magistrate Court in Palm Ridge where Tony’s aunt worked. We had to wait long time because she was busy with a complicated case (a rape case that was closed to public). But eventually she took us to see part of another case and she answered lot of our questions we had about the criminality in the area.

After this, time to discover Jo’burg. Well, just a small part of it of course, we had just an afternoon for it. We had a lunch in Newtown where we also saw some street art before to go to SAB museum. SAB are South African Breweries. The exhibition itself was pretty much focused on “exciting effects” that looked rather like a publicity than a museum. However, some information were quite interesting. And the end was great! You get a small beer in the glass you can keep and at the very end, there is a bar, where you can use your two vouchers you got with the ticket. Actually, it looks like the price of the ticket pays just this beer consumption.

Then, we went to the “Top of Africa” – the tower of the Carlton shopping centre. We took the elevator to the 50^th floor and enjoyed the awesome view over the entire Joburg!

Then, it was time to get back to Katlehong as it was getting late and thunderstorm was coming (again).

Two great days in Katlehong (and little bit of Joburg), shame I couldn’t stay longer. I will have to get back one day!

Thursday, November 27^th (Day 18)

I needed to get back to Pretoria to pick up my passport with the visa. At the embassy, I felt relieved: great, I got the visa, no problem occurred and now I could leave for Cameroon within two days! But… wait... when I checked the visa, I saw: 30 days. Only 30 days? I applied for 62 days! “We give the tourist visa for 30 days only.” Was told to me. Probably new rules, on the website of the embassy was written up to three months. “So I can stay only 30 days?!” No, you can stay longer, just go to the police at the place of your stay and tell them you are staying longer.” Well.. it seemed too easy but if they said so at the embassy… (more about the story of my visa in another article ;) ) Anyway, at least I could get to Cameroon, I would think about the rest later.

We had a lunch together with our friend Alex (who also had to go to Pretoria again because of the visa issues) in the Pretoria city centre. Just before to leave the restaurant, an Afrikaans “couple” (actually a mother with an adult son) asked us what we would like to see and they recommended us few things that are worth to see. Finally, they told us they would show us something: an abandoned theathre just next door. We entered an ordinary-looking building and we remained speechless. The interior is something that used to be a nice theatre with a stage, today quite dilapidated, and in the middle of all this, there was a parking full of cars! “The son” was studying theatre so he explain us all the history of the place and showed us around.

Then, we visited the Palace of Justice that “the mother” (she was advocate) recommended us to visit. We were walking through its corridors when suddenly we heard from an open office: “Hello, can I help you?” “Ehm, we are just visiting, we didn’t want to disturb you.” “No problem, come in! You can visit! You can have a look in the office of the judge, he is not there now.” Wow, really?

Friday, November 28^th (Day 19)

We spent the night in Pretoria and we had planned to go back to Joburg immediately in the morning to enjoy the city. However, tired after all this travelling (and well, little bit also after the partying from the night before), we were quite slow and eventually didn’t have that much time left to see lot of things. Thus, we decided to stay in Pretoria for a while yet and to visit the Freedom Park, me wearing my big backpack again… (Mouna left hers in Katlehong as she was coming back) … at least another good hike. And it really was worth it as it is a nice place with nice view over Pretoria.

Then we returned to Joburg again. We changed our plans several times about the place we would stay that night. Eventually, we finished by joining three our friends from Stellenbosch in their backpackers: all of us travelled differently and we finished by meeting in that backpackers my last night in South Africa before to leave to Cameroon! So we enjoyed the evening together, a good bye party…

Next time you can read about my journey to Cameroon!

Baz Bus Journey: Part Two

Tuesday, November 18^th (Day 9)

We couldn’t leave Coffee Bay without going to its famous beach. Again, we had a company there: A cow that was curiously watching us. Sea was little bit rough but great. It was last time we could enjoy the beach during our Baz Bus travelling.

Then it was time to take shuttle to Mthatha from where we would continue to Durban by Baz Bus again. It was 100km to get there but it took us almost two hours: the road was full of holes so we could not go very fast. At least we had time to enjoy those beautiful landscapes of the Wild Coast for the last time.

In Mthatha, we had to wait almost two hours for Baz Bus, sitting in the middle of the parking lot with our backpacks.

We arrived to our backpackers in Durban at 22:30. This time they were luckily waiting for us.

Wednesday, November 19^th (Day 10)

After the countryside, it was eventually time for the city life. We got to the centre of Durban by mini bus. First, we decided to explore the Indian suburb. We visited the mosque (apparently the largest one in the southern hemisphere) where we met a very kind woman who explained us all rituals.

After having received an offer for the marriage – an Indian man told us he would say to his son to marry both of us (one of those I remember yet but I stopped counting all these offers quite soon because my fingers would not be enough to count them all, especially after I moved to Cameroon) – we decided to visit the Victoria Street Market.

First, we entered the meat section.  Sheep heads were looking at us, lying just next to sheep trotters. Yummy, isn’t it? Because we weren’t really hungry and also we didn’t have place where to cook it, we decided to quit this place and go rather to the African Art section.

Finally we got hungry. We discovered an Indian restaurant hidden at the end of a very narrow passage. We paid only R20 for a delicious Indian meal that filled us up for the rest of the day. (To compare, in South Africa, the cheapest meal you can usually get in restaurant is about R50).

Then, we moved to a more European-looking part of the city: Workshop, City Hall and the harbour.

We realized that the beauty of Durban was mainly about its vibe. It has few historical buildings but it’s above all its vibe, dynamics, a cosmopolite population mixing Indians, Africans and only few whites together that is so interesting here.

We got back to the backpackers by mini bus again. We could see the highest efficiency of the use of a very single space in the bus. People were sitting very close to each other, four (even pretty fat) people on place you would expect only three of them. (However, after my Cameroonian experience, it doesn’t seem so extraordinary to me anymore - but more about it in another article).

Thursday, November 20^th (Day 11)

We took the Baz Bus in the morning which dropped us off in Amphitheatre Backpackers in Northern Drakensberg few hours later. It was a five-stars backpackers (but for a normal prize) which we could notice immediately: free Jacuzzi, sauna and an outside swimming pool, the camping site was huge with a perfect grass and an amazing view on mountains.

It was a time for a chilling day at the pool, talking to other backpacking people who arrived by Baz Bus with us, Jacuzzi in the evening. When we remembered Wanda, our porter from Wild Coast, we realized how full of contrasts South Africa was.

Friday, November 21^th (Day 12)

We signed up for a trip to Lesotho organized by the backpackers. Waking up at 6:30 was a bit hard as we had stayed long time in Jacuzzi the previous night. But we could sleep in the bus as the travel iwas three-hours long. Even though we were quite close to the border, we had to go around a national park and a huge dam that lied in between and therefore no highway had been built there. Furthermore, the road was full of potholes so it slowed us down as well.

Eventually we arrived to the border with Lesotho. We had to go through the passport control to get the stamp we were leaving South African territory. The employee was looking at my passport.. her expression was changing little by little to an expression of an absolute surprise. She asked me: “Where are you from?” after having studied my passport for at least three minutes where the “Czech Republic” was written in Czech, ENGLISH and French. I answered: “Czech Republic”. “Where?” I needed to repeat it one more time. Finally she decided to check it on the computer where she discovered that this country which I was talking about actually existed. She put the stamp and I could go. Interesting that all that queue of Dutch people behind me was done faster than me.

Finally in Lesotho! Our driver and guide in one person told us that we might actually be considered as illegal immigrants to Lesotho since the office on the Lesothian side of the border which we were supposed go through was out of order since few weeks.

Observing those beautiful landscapes, we felt like in the Tolkien’s world – He apparently got inspiration right here for his Lord of the Rings.

Our minibus was riding on the narrow road full of stones and we were “jumping” on our seats. I was really surprised we didn’t lose any wheel. A man in traditional clothes riding on the horse passed around us (indeed, this road is made rather for horses than for cars). Eventually we stopped in front of a primary school.

A teacher from this school told us some information about this country. About its political system, about education (most of children have to walk very long distances to the school and most of families cannot afford higher education), how people were living there (basicaly farmers), about the fact it was one of the poorest countries in the world. Then we went for a short walk where we could see very old paintings on the rocks.

Our guide also explained us the local system of flags. If somebody has a white flag on his house, it means he has a beer to sell there. If somebody has a red flag, he has a meat. If green, some vegetables are available there. So we stopped at one house with the white flag so as we taste the local beer that had just been brewed in that house. Well, nobody really appreciated it. It wasn’t that bad but it didn’t taste like a beer we are used to. But an interesting experience.

That we visited sangoma – a traditional healer. She told us her story (in Sotho, she didn’t speak English so the teacher from the primary school translated for us) how she became a sangoma and how she was helping to heal people in the village.

Before to leave we had to taste a traditional food yet. We stopped at the teacher’s house where we tasted pup with spinach – nothing new for us since we ate it quite a lot at the Wild Coast but never mind, we love it!

It was just a short overview of this country. With Mouna we decided we would come back during our April holidays to discover it more because it is definitely worth it.

Saturday, November 22^nd (Day 13)

Today’s programme was to hike the Amphitheatre Mountain and to see the waterfall. After our hike on Wild Coast with our heavy backpacks, now, just with a small backpack, it was easy for us to “run up” the mountain and to reach the top among the first. And the view was really worth it!

To get down, we had to climb down ladders. There was a choice between a “ladder for men” and “normal ladder” where the first one wasn’t that stable as the second one even though still pretty save (the only thing was that it was fixed to the rocks only at the top so it was moving little bit while climbing down). Since there was a long queue for the “normal ladder”, we decided with Mouna to use the one “for men”, at least we had some adventure!

The trip was organized by backpackers and in the group, there was a group of South African and Slovak people working in Pretoria. Since I have been in South Africa, I have met only two other Czech people in Stellenbosch, but no other Slavic people. And now, suddenly one day I meet a Polish guy working in the backpackers and another day four Slovak people!

Sunday, November 23^rd (Day 14)

We woke up quite late this morning, at 9am: we went sleep also quite late, almost at 4am, and furthermore it was raining outside (and also little bit inside the tent since the hole in our tent was becoming larger and larger… - now it wasn’t a tent for windy and rainy days anymore… ). So we didn’t want to get out of the tent and we decided to have our breakfast “in the bed” (= our sleeping bag).

Baz Bus was supposed to pick us up at 12:45 so we had quite lot of time… and we were tired and the weather wasn’t nice so we just had some rest doing nothing. Then it was time to begin to pack our tent so we did so and we quickly had to prepare something for a lunch. I was in the kitchen when Mouna ran in: “Quickly, bus is here!” What? It’s only 12:15!

Actually we got the wrong information, the bus was indeed leaving 30 min earlier. So we packed up quickly everything (for lunch, we just picked up some rest from the last dinner), put backpacks on our back and ran to the bus.

Our very slow morning finished by such a rush… followed by a sleep in the bus. So at least some excitement that day.

We thus got on the Baz Bus: last time for this trip. Yes, we were finishing our Baz Bus trip. Next stop: Pretoria (the capital of South Africa).

(We adopted the South African style: walking barefoot everywhere... our lunch break on the way to Pretoria)

In Pretoria, we stayed at the university residence where guys from our French university accommodated us. And in the evening, we met our friend Alex! After one month of travelling when he went through all neighbouring countries in the north while we were discovering the Southern coast of South Africa, we all met in Pretoria.

Thus, we quit the beautiful South African nature to spend few following days in Gauteng – the South African agglomeration where we visited both Pretoria and Johannesburg. To be continued…

Baz Bus Journey: Part One

Since we had three months of summer holidays, we decided to enjoy this time as much as possible and to see other part of South Africa than only Western Cape. The plan was: me and Mouna travelling by Baz Bus for two weeks between Cape Town and Johannesburg, stopping on the Wild Coast, Durban, Drakensberg before arriving to Pretoria and Johannesburg. Then few days together in Gauteng before I leave to Cameroon for two months.  

And as we had planned, we did.

We have had so many remarks that we decided to write a journal each of us. And since my journal is quite rich and full of those interesting and funny remarks, I decided to write it here in this form. So come travel with us throughout this diverse country which is South Africa!

Monday, November 10^th (Day 1)

We left Stellenbosch at the end of afternoon. In our backpacks all stuff we need for three months of travelling, we had to hurry up (we were late as always) to fetch the last train to Cape Town. A bit breathless (those backpacks were pretty heavy.. but we got used to it progressively as it became a daily routine to carry it on our back) we arrived on time to the train station… and train was late as usually…

On the train, that we are used to take quite often, some funny unexpected things may happen still. For instance, that time, a man (probably drunk but anyway in a good mood, which is the most important) was dancing and singing (not very well) and the whole train was laughing – but nicely!

On Monday night, we slept at our friend’s place in Cape Town since our (Baz) bus was leaving from there on Tuesday morning.

For those who do not know what Baz Bus is: it is the service of buses that pick up and drop off travellers in partnering backpackers throughout South Africa. They pick you up and drop you off directly at the backpackers you wish. You can meet lot of interesting people on the bus and furthermore it is a very safe and also easy way how to travel if you are alone or two girls.

Tuesday, November 11^th (Day 2)

We woke up in the morning and before we left, we had a time to walk on the promenade at Green Point. How to best start our trip: drink the morning coffee walking next to the sea and watching waves…

When we arrived to the pick-up place of our bus, we realized we left a bag with our food at our friends’ place.. And we had been discussing that much about what to buy in the supermarket the day before. never mind, it was a small gift to our friends for having accommodated us, I hope they like vegetables and fruits :) And after all, we still had a bread and rusks, we weren’t about starving during our trip.

We spent the entire day on the bus. We left Cape Town at 8am and arrived to Port Elisabeth at 10pm. However, time passed quite fast. We met lot of interesting people travelling throughout South Africa on the bus, we received an invitation for a wine tasting from a French wine maker when we will be back in France, and we slept… and also we remembered our September trip to Garden Route as we traveled exactly the same way.

Arriving to Port Elisabeth, we realized how great service the Baz Bus offers. It dropped us of in front of the backpackers we had booked before. We were standing in front of the gate and ringing on the bell but nobody was replying, only a strange noise could be heard (they were probably already partying...). Sometimes, choosing the cheapest options is not the best deal.

What we should do? Alone at night in PE with our big backpacks… well, we had our tent and sleeping bag, being in Europe, we would have camp on the grass in front of the backpackers probably… but this is South Africa. We turned back and realized that the Baz Bus was still waiting there and the driver was walking toward us. He also tried to ring – without success. So he told us he would take us to another backpackers. The Baz Bus really takes care about travellers!

So we arrived to another backpackers where they welcomed us even without having reservation. So we started to set up the tent when suddenly… it broke. But a broken stick didn’t prevent us from completing our task. Our tent was finally set up. Even though it had a bit weird appearance and less space - how to make from a tent for four people a tent for two.  But we were only two so no problem.

Lying in the tent, just before falling asleep, we were wondering whether our tent would survive the night since it was pretty windy and our broken tent wasn’t very stable.

Wednesday, November 12^th (Day 3)

We woke up at 5:45 and to our surprise, the tent was still standing, it didn’t fall on us during the night! :) 

So a quick breakfast and hop on a new Baz Bus, new driver, new people (well, few of them were the same as the previous day) and we continued alongside the coast to the East, direction Durban. Next stop: Mthatha and then shuttle to Port St Johns!

Driver collected some bread and old clothes at backpackers he picked up people from. We stopped twice on the road before East London and he gave it to the poor. Observing landscapes, we can already perceive the difference between different provinces. It is a rural area here, few old houses are dispersed around, without services and infrastructure.

Then we arrived to Mthatha where Baz Bus dropped us off. It is apparently quite a big town within this rural region. Eventually, after four months spent in South Africa, we feel like being in Africa!

Why? Being white, we are clearly a minority here. Traffic jams a la Africa – one hour to forward 400m, to overtake other cars, why not to drive on the sidewalk?

From Mthatha, we took the shuttle (a minibus) to Port St Johns. It was said to us it would take about 1,5h to get there… finally it was 3hours. Lot of traffic jams in Mthatha, then lot of deviations and potholes in the road. But never mind, landscapes were beautiful so we enjoyed it. We saw beautiful mountains where small villages comprised from few huts were spread, cows and goats were walking next to the road (in front of the fences, not behind),…

When finally arrived to Amapondo backpackers in Port St Johns where our intention was to camp, the receptionist told us: “it’s gonna to rain tonight so better is you stay in a dorm tonight.” We: “well, okay, but will it be for the same price as the camping then? We don’t mind the rain otherwise.” “Yes, of course, no problem!” So why not? The best service ever :) (and we had that dorm only for two of us, cool!)

Thursday, November 13^th (Day 4)

Before to leave for our five-day hike, we decided to get up a bit earlier to take breakfast at the beach that was only two minutes from the backpackers. It was definitely worth getting up earlier – Ouma and the beach, what’s better at 7:30 am? :)

Furthermore, we didn’t even need the alarm to wake up: monkeys running on the roof took charge of it. But we discovered that it was monkeys who did that noise only a bit later when we actually saw lot of them just in front of our door.

8:30 am, time to meet our guide and start our hiking adventure throughout the Wild Coast! Port St Johns – Coffee Bay: 61km, five days.

We realized that our backpacks are a bit heavy… for me, it’s luckily quite fine (all that time spent in the gym and running served actually to something :) ). First a pretty steep mountain… hard but we all did it and the view was just amazing!

Since Mouna couldn’t really carry her backpack anymore, we decided to take a porter for her backpack. So our guide just talked to his cousin who stayed in the village that was situated on the top of that mountain. In twenty minutes, he is ready to come with us. It was really good choice: first, Mouna could enjoy the hike, second, that porter, called Wanda, was a really cool guy. He wanted to talk to us much more than our guide (“Delegate”) so we could learn a lot about the Xhosa culture and we had lot of interesting discussions about differences between our cultures. And he also taught us some isiXhosa words!

We walked often just next to cows, passed goats walking on the street, Xhosa women carrying heavy bags and pots on their head, group of boys trying to catch the pig that had run away.

We had a lunch break on the beach. Well… lunch… we had just rest of old bread… But it tasted pretty good – when you are hungry after few kilometers with almost 20kg on the back… And then, with such a beautiful environment, we really didn’t need more!

We stopped to buy some groceries in the shop that was at the entrance to the village. It was the end of the afternoon, people were drinking their beer in front of the shop, chatting with their neighbours.

We arrived to our accommodation: we slept at locals’ in a hut. We had a rondavel just for two of us. We got a tea and some bread at arriving and we could even take a warm shower! Shower was situated in a separated small rondavel, water had been warmed up on the fire before. It was just a great service.

In the beginning of the evening, out porter (Wanda) gave us an isiXhosa lecture! He told us he would make us practice during the rest of the hike – we would speak to locals in isiXhosa. But well, most of those words with clicks are still unpronounceable for me.

Then, he began to tell us his story and about his culture. From the circumcision (a very important ritual to become a man) to how difficult it is to earn money there. And about his uncle who used to support him when he was in the school but then he was stabbed to death one night in Durban while going back home from work. Also, he was very interested about our culture. It was really a great exchange.

While discussing with Wanda, our hosts brought us dinner. It was so delicious! Rice, carrots, broccoli, potatoes, chicken, sauce. Everything very well cooked – on fire (maybe that is the secret why it was better than we are used to? )

Friday, November 14^th (Day 5)

We had thought we would sleep so well in that nice hut on such comfortable mattresses…. mosquitoes decided to spoil our plan though. Their “bzz” during the whole night was a bit irritating.

But the breakfast that we took in front of our hut with an amazing view made the day to begin very well, despite not that great night. Porridge, eggs and bread.

8am, time to leave for the second day of the hike. I had a great (for me) idea to put the tent on Mouna’s backpack. Our porter is stronger than me after all. 5kg less on my back! I was really relieved and suddenly we walked much faster, with only few stops that day and arrived to the village we were staying overnight already at 12:45. Before arriving, we also had a lunch break (again some dry bread) at the beach. And we weren’t the only one: a herd of cows was our company.

At our new accommodation (a hut that is yet nicer than the previous one), there were lot of animals with their babies all around us: dogs, hens, ducks,.. Everybody was friendly and talking to us (contrary to the day before where people were very nice but also distant).

In the afternoon, local bead-makers came to sell us some necklaces. Being aware of the fact that to earn some money in the region is quite hard and every rand is helpful for locals, we decided to buy some – furthermore they were nice and quite cheap. So we had a good feeling – we bought nice product and we supported local economy!

Few hours later, another bead-maker came. When we said we have already bought to somebody else, he tried to convince us by telling us his story: without this money, he couldn’t go to school, wouldn’t have anything to eat. He wasn’t far from crying. But we didn’t want to buy anything because we knew if we would do so, the whole village would come to ask for some money. There was a girl from the village observing this discussion and she was laughing all the time – obviously she knew the guy was exaggerating a bit.

This seventeen-year-old girl began to talk to us after this. She was very talkative and she loved to speak to tourists coming to the village to practice her English. She was very determined – she wanted to leave the village, go to the university, speak English as often as possible. Her life objectives differed quite lot from those of most people we met in this region.

While talking with her, a white boy ran around! We were really surprised by seeing his blond hair… she laughed and told us he was living in the village with his mother. It’s quite rare to meet white people who really live in this regions but there are few of them..

Saturday, November 15^th (Day 6)

This day, the hike was a bit longer, at the end we were quite happy to arrive to our accommodation Third day, we began to feel a bit tired after all. But only little bit.

We saw a boy with two donkeys and we were invited to climb on and “ride” it. (But it was so small I was afraid to break its back so I preferred to get down quickly).

Then, our guide needed to meet somebody in one village we were passing through. While we were waiting for him next to a dwelling where a music was playing. Lot of children appeared and began to watch us. They seemed to be curious and began to talk to us – in isiXhosa. Since we had forgotten most of what our porter try to teach us, the discussion wasn’t very rich. We tried some basic English but they didn’t understand. So we just use isiXhosa that we remembered (Molweni, Kunjani? – Ndipilile! Meaning Hello, how are you? Fine!) and then we were just sitting there on the ground looking and smiling at each other. But it was funny.

Again, lunch break on the beach! However, we were interrupted in the middle: the tide began to raise and we had to cross the river. So we had to cross it before there was too much water and avoid our backpacks get wet. So we crossed the river – our pants all wet but our backpacks remained dry! And so we could finish our lunch – dry bread: the cheapest one and also the only one you can get in local shops… a bit crunchy due to the sand that come with the wind.

We continued walking, a long distance on the beach and rocks. And then, a jungle! With the sound of crickets.

That day, our accommodation looked a bit more traditionally: a hut with no electricity which meant a romantic dinner with a candle :D

We also appreciated their shower system that offered all comfort of normal shower. (okay, except that you can’t have a water for longer than one minute). 

Then, going back to the hut (the bedroom), you pass just next to cows, watching sunset – just amazing!

In the evening, another class of isiXhosa with our porter – teacher Wanda! A lot to study. After the class, we had a discussion with him about lot of interesting topics – mainly marriage, lobola,.. and we even mentioned homosexuality – little bit shocking for our porter who saw only recently the first gay in his life. In these rural villages, homosexuality still remains quite a taboo. And to finish, we spoke about the electricity: the more and more people have electricity in their households but still not all of them: Out of for households where we stayed during our hike, two of them didn’t have electricity.

Sunday, November 16^th (Day 7)

Today was a long walk, the longest. We didn’t go through many villages, it was mainly on the beach. Waves were beautiful, very big, often hunting us further from the sea as we didn’t want our shoes to get wet (failed).

It was (again) a beautiful walk but a bit exhausting .Fourth day, the tiredness began to appear. And furthermore there was quite a strong wind blowing against us during the entire day.

We crossed two rivers with a ferry. For the second one, we had to wait 1,5 hour as the man was at home and our guide had to go for him and when they finally came, he realized he forgot the key from the lock.

We also crossed some water on foot. Once, it became a bit complicated for me: It was just a narrow mouths of the river going to the sea we had to cross. I followed Mouna and the guide when I heard: “Quickly, quickly, the wave is coming!” Me, a bit tired and my ankles being pretty sore, I didn’t really realize the wave and thought okay, a wave, at worst my pants would become wet, it wouldn’t be for the first time. However, the stream was stronger than it looked like and also with the wave, suddenly it was much deeper than only few seconds ago. I didn’t mind to get wet but I had my backpack with all my staff (computer and camera included) on my back. Delegate with Wanda helped me to get out of the water. So I got wet completely but surprisingly, I managed to maintain the most of my backpack above the water level. Except the pocket were my cell phone was…

Our last hut looked beautiful. No electricity again so we had a petrol lamp. Beds were like for a princesses and the view over the valley was just amazing. The family was very nice, very welcoming. Everybody came talk to us: Nineteen-year-old daughter, four-year-old daughter (well, she didn’t really talk but she visited us), father, mother and 21-year-old daughter was even offering a massage! – Not free of course but after four days of the hike and carrying the heavy backpack, we couldn’t refuse. And the prices were more than correct. And the massage was really great!

Monday, November 17^th (Day 8)

My ankles fixed (it had been a bit hard for them this hike…), I was ready for the last phase of the hike. The shortest one, only three hours. It rained a bit but only few light rain showers. At least we could experience also a different weather. Few days before the beginning of our hike, the forecast was saying it would rain the most of the time. Finally it didn’t happen, lucky we! :)

Coffee Bay, we arrived! Still a very Xhosa village but we can see the influence of tourism already. To get to our backpackers where we were staying that day, Coffee Shack (everybody was telling the best about it and we really can confirm it), we had to cross the last river. So shoes off and let’s go!

On the other bank, we met a (Xhosa) guy who was offering us mushrooms – fresh! I wondered what kind of mushrooms he meant. Then he offered a weed. So now it was clear. The rumours about Coffee Bay I heard seemed to be true :D

So we arrived to Coffee Shack and it was time to say good bye to Delegate and Wanda. Everybody was friendly in the backpackers, admiring us we walked all that way with our heavy backpacks. One (Xhosa) lady told me: “You walked that with that heavy backpack and your broken feet?” (I still had my ankles bandaged since they were really sore at the end of the hike) And she continued: “I couldn’t do it I can carry it on my head but not on my back” Well, I wouldn’t manage to carry it on my head… cultural differences.

At the end of the tour of backpackers, the employee led us to the bar: “We have a free welcome drink for you! What do you want? Beer, …” “Beer!” The choice was evident. She had to hear me when I said to Mouna few kilometres before arriving that I would take the beer of victory when we arrive. I definitely like this backpackers :D

Then we built our nice broken tent – first time at the day light! We managed it easily, it still was standing. And it was not raining so the hole didn't matter.