While traveling along the N2 Freeway, we passed Jeffreys Bay. If there’s a place that most American surfers know of, this is the town. Whoever we have spoken with in the past about surfing, which we know very little about, the person always mentions the intention to go surfing in that part of the world. We welcome it. However, in all humility, we hate it when people spell our name incorrectly. Get rid of the ‘s’ or at least, insert an apostrophe. Is that too much to ask?
In the beginning of a visit to South Africa, it is a strange feeling. For instance, when walking in a shopping environment, (one of us could easily do without but we won’t say which one—keep you guessing), the voices sound strange. Naturally, we recognize them as South African. However, we are not used to hearing so many—after all, nearly every person speaks that way. When in America, the local accent is now natural so it does not stand out at all. What this all means is when we are in a familiar place like our former home we feel out of place but comfortable; whereas in our new home we might feel less comfortable as we sound out of place but don’t feel uncomfortable. Seems a bit odd you might be thinking but difficult to explain. Taking it a little deeper, when we talk to a local in Johannesburg, we know we are visitors but they don’t, or that’s the way we perceive it. After reading this, should you think we need therapy, please don’t be bashful—we can use all the help available.
Ignoring the behavior on the roads, the people are generally polite, helpful and of course, talk funny. Naturally, our strong San Diego accents are impressive and everyone knows where we are from once we open our mouths.
It seems the airports are making quite an impression upon us these days. We remember when it used to be a most pleasant experience to fly. In fact, flying is still a miracle; the challenge is the system. We were talking with Hilary and Ernie Saks about it recently. We give our ages away when we speak about the occasional visits to the airport, not to fly away, but have a coffee and watch planes land and takeoff. Sure sounds like a different age or maybe, strange people. At San Diego Airport, the TSA (security) have a sign reading: ‘No jokes, please’. They’ve taken the fun out of life. No wonder they look so miserable. Each time we approach a security entrance, to take our minds off the upcoming grope, we feel like saying to the officer, “You heard the one about the rabbi and the priest…” No longer. This is a serious age. We proceed like dummies, well programmed, shunted about carrying our laptops, belts, hankies, wallets, coins, tickets, cell phones and little, clear packets containing small bottles of gels and liquids in one hand and our bags in the other. We throw away our remaining Coke at the entrance and replace it after completing the 'obstacle course'. Plane travel is a blast—oops, bad joke.
‘Let’s take a canoe up the Keurboom River,’ our editor suggested. Why not, we thought. After all, we will be hiking five days in a row; this will make a nice change. Besides, we need to build our upper body strength.
“Good idea,” we answered, "It’ll develop our chests, too.” Then we looked at our lovely editor and colored a little. “Perhaps, we’ll do the paddling. Your chest looks very good from this angle.” We guessed she must have done a lot of canoeing before we met her.
The beaches in this part of the world are pristine. The sand is off-white, in keeping with the rainbow nation, but spotless. We wouldn’t be surprised to find a team of cleaners each morning with brooms, rakes and once–a-week, vacuum cleaners. There’s not a butt to be seen, either human or otherwise, well only a few of the former. Although we notice many smokers, they discard the cigarette ends somewhere other than on the sand. Perhaps it’s off-season but it is very quiet at the shore.
We can’t remember seeing residential parks before in the country but then again our memories are in a state of rest. We are staying in a chalet, which is comfortable although the concrete floor is as expected, hard. Maybe that’s how they make our fellow Africans so tough. Anyway, the management operates the RV-park for permanent residents and alongside, the chalets for holidaymakers. Whereas living in an RV park might not be ideal, the setting is idyllic. You can’t have everything, we suppose.
Finally, before getting out and doing some serious hiking, a little emotional stuff that moved the writer as he watched and listened, once again showing an example of the world perceived by children. Jenni and Ellie had just finished playing and were heading upstairs. Holding hands, the nearly four-year-old turned to her grandmother and said, “Gaga, you are just like a mommy.” Life does not get better than that.
Cheers,
Jenni and Jeffrey
Pointed mountain tops abound
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