Namibia - The Spectacular Namib Desert, Skeleton Coast and Much More...

This summer two good friends and I decided to join an overland, safari style tour of Namibia, the country best known to North Americans as where Brangelina gave birth. But movie stars aside, Namibia is actually one of the most dramatically beautiful countries in the world. The scenery is amazing!

The tour got off to a less than perfect start when hung over Fabian missed the bus. What ensued was a high cost, high speed taxi chase up the coast in an effort to catch Luke, myself and 20 others before we entered the wilderness. Luckily he found us 80 km north of Cape Town, but not so luckily it cost him R800. Our ‘bus’ was actually a large scale safari vehicle named ‘Ella’, built for African off-road driving and yet having zero suspension; our tour group was an international mix dominated by Swiss. After a brief stop in a traditional bushman’s camp, we headed hundreds of kilometres north to the Cedarburg Nature Reserve where we camped in a vineyard under a full moon, then through serious Boer farm country, through little mining towns, over Namaqualand and the Orange River to the Namibian border. Along the way we stopped in small dorpies and camped by the Orange River where we swam against the strong current while trying to avoid leaches, surrounded on one side by the barren, black flat top mountains of the Namib Desert and on the other by the cultivated agriculture of South Africa.

The next morning we crossed the border into Namibia, which was a slow and needlessly bureaucratic endeavor. On the other side, the massive Namib Desert (90,000 square km)and the world’s second oldest loomed, all black stone flat top mountains and grey parched plains (the area receives less than 10 mm annual rain fall- take THAT Vancouver!) that eventually transition into red and then golden sand dunes. The desert is completely flat, in some directions as far as the eye can see, except of course for the mountains, which are also flat topped. While it is really beautiful in a totally lunar way, the idea of ever being stranded there is terrifying, worse so because it is riddled with snakes and scorpions - and this was to be our home for the next week.

First stop was Fish River Canyon, the world`s second biggest and Africa’s largest. So often in Africa I see the most incredible places and I wish there were words to do justice when describing them to my friends back home…but there just isn`t the adequate verbiage; this is one of those places. To give you an idea of the size, the canyon is 160 km long, 27 km wide and 550 m deep, and as with its Grand American counterpart, a river runs through it. In summer, temperatures reach 48 degrees, but luckily for us there was some overhead cloud on this particular day. We ended up braaing (BBQ-ing) dinner on the rim of the canyon, entertained by the most incredible sunset of my life.

The next day, we collapsed our dusty two-man (but three occupied) tent and headed off on a ride so bumpy it was almost concussion inducing, across rock strewn desert trails to the 50,000 square km Namib Naukluft National Park, Africa’s largest game park. Here the colours turned golden – the rocks were gold, the (dead) grass was gold, the earth was rust red, the trees were a golden green. From here we hiked into another canyon, this time called Seisrim, which was also amazing but in a different way. It looked like it should have been in the Middle East rather than Africa with it high, strangely shaped walls. It was like walking through a sun dappled crevice in the earth. The canyon isn`t even visible from the surface until the last couple of feet, and then all of a sudden it opens beneath you. That evening we camped in another desert spot, complete with tumble weeds and whirlwinds, enjoying a bottle of wine and another gorgeous African sunset over the distinct flat top trees…and watched as antelopes and springboks crept into our camp to forage for food. Later that night we had a visit from a brown hyena and one camper was lucky enough to find a large black scorpion… which brings me to the fact that when you wake up in the middle of the night in a tent in the desert and nature calls, it is not only annoying but kind of scary. Since tents must be zipped at all times, the scorpions can’t come in…but they, and snakes, can both be waiting for you in front of your flap and if you are bare foot…well…I don`t want to think about it.

The next morning`s 4 am wake up call was painful. Thirty minutes later we were waiting at the entrance to the famous Sossusvlei Dunes, the world’s tallest and basically the model sand dunes you see in most calendars, posters, post cards and magazines. Dune 45 in particular holds the title of world’s most photographed sand dune. Our mission: to hike to the top to watch sunrise over the towering red dunes of the Namib. From the base it looked like an easy 200 metre hike up. No problem, I thought. Wrong! Hiking 200 plus metres up a steep 170 metre high dune with powder fine sand falling away under your feet is exhausting! But when I finally reached the top and surveyed the scene below, it was worth the pain. We were surrounded on three sides by massive red dunes for as far as the eye could see, sparkling under the golden rays of the sun as it began its daily climb. Below us spread a massive ancient clay pan. When we were done taking a million photos and the sun had risen, we tumbled down the steep side of the dune, falling and rolling and laughing in the sand. At the foot of the dune we hopped in a little safari jeep for a ride through the desert to Deadvlei, an ancient flood plain covered in fossilized tree stumps. Along the way we passed ostrich, oryx and springboks seeking shelter from the blistering sun under the few scarce trees. Hiking through more desert to the plain, I felt like a character in a ‘lost in the desert’ movie. Even though it was barely 8 am, it was already more than 40 degrees, and the sun reflecting off the red sand was relentless. Deadvlei seriously looked like the surface of the moon, a really bizarre sight well worth the hike. On the drive back we again spotted plenty of game: flocks of ostriches, antelope, oryx and Mountain zebras.

Later that day we headed to a private farm, set between golden mountains for a final night of desert camping. Here we met a bushman guide who took us though the fields tracking micro desert life such as baboon spiders (as much as I hate spiders, these are kind of cute – they live below a trap door in the ground which they pull shut) and told us about local bushpeople traditions. That night, surrounded by kokerblom and aloe trees, zebras visited our campsite, walking between our tents as they sought their watering hole. A leopard has also been known to hang around the site but luckily decided not to pay a visit on this particular date.

By this point in the tour everyone was suffering from horrendous desert dust inhalation allergies…the wheezing, sneezing and sniffling was getting pretty out of control, as were the snoring noises coming from most tents at night.

Throughout the tour we stopped in lots of funny little desert villages with populations less than 20, such as Solitaire (another stop off on the Jolie-Pitt Namibia trail), famous for it’s apple pie, and another dorpie whose name escapes me but was filled with excessive amounts of taxidermy and famous for its biltong.

Next up, we headed over more desert trails, crossing Henry Miller's Tropic of Capricorn en route to the Atlantic coast. It was strange scenery with the desert continuing right to ocean’s edge, so there is no real ‘beach’. And from the ‘beach’, there is nothing but flat desert for as far as the eye can see. The first stop was Walvis Bay, a nondescript little seaside holiday town where we found a massive red jellyfish washed up on the shore. The Atlantic here is a deep, twinkling sapphire blue, a really beautiful colour that contrasts against the caramel coloured sand…but the seashore itself was nothing special.

Thirty km down the road lies Swakopmund, a place Fabian and I (as Germanics) found hilarious. I should start by telling you that Namibia is a former German colony dating back to the scramble for Africa. So here in the middle of the desert and wildest Africa, surrounded by thousands of km's of sand dunes and with mostly unpaved sand streets lies this perfect little German town, and I mean straight out of Deutschland. The people are German, the language is German, the food and beer is all German, streets and buildings have German names, and the buildings are all Bavarian. For someone who has spent a significant part of her life in Germany…well, I couldn’t believe my eyes. It gets incredibly foggy here and is actually cold by Namibian standards, never more than 25 degrees. The town is filled with quaint historic buildings, and has an old red lighthouse and picturesque seaside cottages. On one side you can see the massive sand dunes of Sandwich Harbour which lead right into the ocean, on the other the Skeleton Coast stretches out for hundreds of miles. We explored this awesome little town for a few days (civilisation was welcome after sleeping in desert tents for a week) and ventured up the Skeleton Coast to visit one of the famous shipwrecks. The Skeleton Coast earned its name through the many, many wrecks caused by stormy Atlantic waters. When sailors lucky enough to survive made it ashore, they perished instead from thirst in the Namib Desert. The same applies to animals – many starve to death in this region. On the day of our visit a baby jackal lay dying on the sand. I desperately wanted to help but it was too far gone. There were also random bones (probably seal or whale) scattered on the beach. Such is the harsh reality of life in this treacherous but beautiful region.

Because Swakopmund is the adventure capital of southwest Africa, we decided to spice up our lives by going quadbiking on the sand dunes outside of town. I should have known that having personally never operated a quad bike (I back-seated once in Santorini which was awesomely fun), the massive golden sand dunes of Dorob National Park were probably not the wisest place to start. I almost set a new record for stalling (*ahem* nine times) though was told not to fret because ‘Chinese people are worse’. Manoeuvring those things through sliding sand is hard, and I kept feeling like I would tip as I scooted across the sides of dunes. Some dunes had sheer drops of more than 100 metres, and on these I wimped out and asked the very cute and terribly flirtatious guide…hmmm...to take me down on the back of his. It was so much fun but really scary at times. The desert looked like the setting for Lawrence of Arabia. As the sun began to set over the dunes we headed towards the ocean. Perched atop the last hill overlooking the water we watched as the bright pink sun sunk over the golden sand and sapphire water. It was so breathtakingly beautiful.

With our adventure drawing to an end, we headed to Namibia’s capital Windhoek, about five hours east of Swakopmund. En route we were stopped by one of the ubiquitous road patrols – they were everywhere and we couldn’t figure out what all these road checks could possibly be for. Turns out it was power tripping local ‘police’ looking to procure bribes. Despite being in the middle of the country they made us show our passports and we had to sit for 20 minutes while they passed them around. They even threatened one guy who only had South African ID saying they were going to throw him in jail. The way these men were posturing was really pathetic – good to see BEE at work. I have to say, we encountered a lot of really sour people of all denominations in Namibia. In fact, we could only really recall two or three people who were even friendly by trip`s end. Between us we had a German, a South African and a Canadian, so it’s not like they were expressing a dislike for a particular accent or country. Perhaps the desert hardens the people. Who knows, but they provided the singular disappointment on an otherwise fantastic journey.

Anyway, we were in for a surprise in Windhoek: it was spotlessly clean. If you have travelled in Africa at all, you know this is not the norm for a city here. It is a very pleasant (though uncomfortably hot) little place full of pretty churches and boulevards named for autocratic dictators internationally despised yet admired by the Namibian government. We walked around the government buildings and visited a historic fort and museum, but eventually the heat of the day drove us to the local shopping mall for respite.

On our return trip the national border was once again a total nightmare. At 4 am the authorities made all 50 people debark our bus, searching every suitcase one by one until no bag remained unopened. Obviously the border staff were bored.

For the most part, we loved Namibia. It is so spectacular, dramatic and remote – the scenery in both the desert and on the coast is incredible. It may be the most stunning country I have visited and is a really special place. It`s a shame about the people. But even they couldn’t ruin an utterly magical trip, taken with good friends and on which more friends were made. I feel privileged to have visited Nambia – it really is that amazing.

The Seychelles- Mahe, Praslin, La Digue, Moyenne and Cerf Islands

The two month summer break provided a good opportunity for further exploration of Africa. Itching to use my new snorkel, craving the obscure and intrigued by the settlements off Africa`s east coast, we decided to head for the Seychelles, a chain of 115 equatorial islands 1600 km beyond Kenya in the Indian Ocean.

Spread over one million square km, the Seychelles archipelago is comprised of tiny islands with a total population of just 88,000. While technically Africa, they feel far more Caribbean in flavour. The people are Creole, a blend of French, Indian, African and Asian spanning hundreds of years and many generations, and the three official languages are Creole, French and English (the latter two thanks to colonisation in the 1800s) – with Creole being the most widely used. With their Rastafarian dreads, love of reggae, laid back manner and exotic looks the people made me think most of Jamaica.

The equatorial location makes for an incredibly steamy, humid climate – on any given day there is generally a mix of thundering tropical downpours, low hanging cloud and brilliant blue skies. This translates to lush, verdant, almost teeming plant life – including banana trees, frangipani and hibiscus and the Coco de Mer x-rated palm trees, which I will explain later. The larger islands feature narrow two lane roads characterized by hairpin turns that wind, twist and turn through rainforests. These roads are not for the easily car sick.

Mahe and Praslin are very mountainous, with granite peaks towering above the tree line and giant boulders casually scattered throughout the islands – in people’s yards, by the roadsides and along the beaches. More than 50% of the (very few) inhabited islands are dedicated national parks and nature reserves, so plants, bugs and animals run the show. Regarding wildlife, giant Aldabra tortoises can be head groaning loudly throughout the islands, and lizards and geckos are constantly underfoot – and in your food, since I found a gecko hanging out in my cookie box while snacking one evening. While there are lots of colourful birds flitting around, bats are far more common and can be seen flying overhead at the beaches and heard twittering in the trees after dark. The islands are also rife with massive snails. At first I wondered why there were giant seashells scattered around non-beach areas, then I realized they were in fact giant snails.

We chose to make our home base on Mahe, the largest island (which is still tiny) and from there visited four other islands: La Digue, Praslin, Cerf and Moyenne. Mahe is covered by a comprehensive bus service which makes it easy to explore. The buses are old, blue and slightly rusty (with zero suspension) and barrel along the narrow roads taking the steep hairpin turns at top speed, mowing down passing motorists. Taking the bus was like riding a roller coaster- at times terrifying, but always exhilarating. Plus, at five rupees a trip it was the only bargain to be found in the islands. We did opt to rent a car one day, and driving with these buses turned out to be a pretty intense experience.

We stayed at a little beach front guesthouse in Beau Vallon, a small town three km from the capital city of Victoria. It was a nice area though the food selection was not great. Then again, the food everywhere was ridiculously overpriced and mediocre at best. From Beau Vallon we visited some incredibly beautiful beaches, including Anse Major, Anse Takanaka and Anse Intendence. Most are quite hard to access and include hour plus hikes along lush, overgrown rainforest trails, where a sudden clearing through the trees reveals a beach spreading before you. The beaches were a little different then I expected, and swimming could be challenging thanks to really strong currents and undertow. Many people, including one of the Seychellois prime ministers have drowned or been dragged out to sea. It is definitely the strongest I have yet to feel. Also, the waves are huge, so shells and coral wash up on the shores crushed, unlike in Zanzibar where you find really incredible intact seashells on the beaches. The sand is more golden than white and is not as fine-grained as I had hoped. Because the main islands are granitic, there are massive rocks and boulders strewn on most beaches, some in really outlandish, almost lunar shapes, which makes them totally unique and unlike anywhere else. There is a lot of greenery and plant life since most are surrounded by rainforest, so you feel much more in nature. On the more protected snorkelling beaches, the water is so crystal clear you can see tropical fishes swimming around your feet almost immediately. Medium size crabs skittering across the sand are a common sight, as are massive sea turtles and flying fish that skim across the surface of the water at high speeds for up to a minute at a time. We were lucky enough to see hundreds of the flying fish on a boat trip between islands – they make for an unusual sight, and at first I didn't quite believe what I was seeing.

As Victoria is the hub for all traffic through the island, we ended up there for brief periods on most days. When it rained the hardest – intense, roof crushing tropical downpours - we decided to explore the city since beach visits were futile. It’s cute and clean though not an exciting spot – there are no hotels or nightlife, but this is hardly surprising since no one travels to the Seychelles to see the city. It is still very colonial – there are French and British influences including a miniature Big Ben, an old mission and stone clock tower and typical 19th century tropical architecture. It also has a really nice botanical gardens with giant tortoises and lovely flowers.

We tried to visit Le Jardin du Roi spice garden in Les Canelles, which entailed a 1.5 hour bus trip to the south of the island and then a 1 km hike up a hill so steep, it could have been a black diamond ski run. When we finally reached the top, we were feeling pretty good about our accomplishment in 37 degree steamy heat. But upon arrival, the owner decided she didn’t feel like opening that day…so that was a painful bust. More successful was a visit to the ruins of an old slave school in the Mission just outside of Sans Soucis at the very top of Mahe. From the lookout you could see any number of the islands below and gorgeous beaches and lush rainforest for miles. Down the road we found an old tea plantation and factory, also an interesting spot to visit. And on our last day we lazed around at the Ephelia Resort just past La Misere, set in a mangrove forest with a tiny private beach called Anse L’Islette.

Praslin, the second largest island feels even lusher than Mahe, which is pretty difficult to imagine. It is about an hours sail by catamaran and has one small town, Baie St Anne. Again, it is mountainous and very steep and is covered in thick rainforest. Even the water around Praslin seems emerald coloured – adding to the effect that the whole island is shades of green. From the ferry dock, you can see thousands of tropical fish in the water below. The traffic at the port is a mix of gypsy style Creole ships and massive, luxury catamarans rented by wealthy visitors for island hopping. Praslin`s main attraction is the Vallee de Mai National Park rumoured since the 1700s to be the location of the biblical Garden of Eden. Besides being stunning, the park’s claim to fame is that it is the home of the rare Coco de Mer palm tree. What is so special about this palm tree? Well, it has male and female versions; the male is large and extremely…phallic. The female…cannot even be described politely.

We also took a boat to the tiny, tropical paradise of La Digue, which I loved so much that I am at a loss for words. There are no vehicles on the island other than utility trucks, so all transportation is either by ox cart or rented bicycle. It is populated with quaint little guest houses interspersed with vanilla plantations and rainforests. A reef surrounds the beaches, making the water calm enough for really great snorkelling. Sadly, the coral is no longer as colourful as other spots due to lingering damage from the tsunami and climate change, but the fish are gorgeous and if you’re lucky you might spot a giant sea turtle. There is also a scattering of historically important buildings and of course, an Aldabra tortoise colony. We rode on our rusty old bicycles through the historic park, vanilla plantation and old cemetery to the main attraction, the world’s top rated beach Anse Source d’Argent, and….wow. It was so beautiful, we just stood there laughing for the first few minutes. The whitest sand, the clearest water through which you could see the coral and fish just from standing on the shore, massive palm trees providing much needed shade, and huge granite rocks carved by the tides to resemble giant shells and providing miniature private inlets all along the beach. La Digue is unarguably paradise. One local sat on the beach weaving hats from palm leaves, another sold fresh coconuts, papayas, start fruits and mangoes. We spent much of our time there snorkelling and managed to burn our back sides so badly neither of us could sleep on them for a week. It literally broke my heart to leave and I hope I make it there again some day. Sailing back to Mahe, our boat was accompanied by flying fish for the duration and we watched one of the most spectacular sunsets I have ever seen. It was another one of life’s perfect moments, and I felt lucky bearing witness to something so beautiful.

After eight days of in depth exploration Johannes was exhausted by my travel Nazi antics, so I left him at the hotel and joined a tour on a tiny glass bottom boat to two further islands, Cerf and Moyenne. Moyenne, the only privately owned island in the Seychelles, is held by Brendan Grimshaw, an 86 year old Brit. He bought if for 10,000 GBP in the 1970s, and has since devoted his life to creating a nature reserve and sanctuary. Media refer to him as the real life Robinson Crusoe, which seems pretty apt. On his little island, tortoises rule and have the right of way at all times which is sweet but means that the smell isn’t great. There are also a number of old pirate graves dating back hundreds of years, and the standard accompanying legend of hidden treasure. They suspect it is buried with a pirate but it is illegal to dig up a grave and therefore will remain a mystery.

Surrounding Iles Moyenne and Cerf is the protected St. Anne Marine National Park. Here there is some great deeper water snorkelling which I enjoyed except for cutting my ankle quite badly on the ship's propeller, leading to remembrances of Praslin's fatal bull shark attacks last year. From the boat we tossed bread into the water and watched the tropical fish feeding frenzy that ensued beside us.

We also cruised around Ile Longue, until recently the jail island from which prisoners often swam to Victoria to buy booze and cigarettes. They have since relocated the facilities, realizing that imprisoning criminals in a tropical paradise with full beach access doesn’t exactly discourage breaking the law. We finished our little tour at Ile au Cerf , a small island in the Marine Park with average beaches, where we had a locally cooked Creole buffet lunch. I was sad that on the second last day of our stay, I had finally found the best food – local coconut fish curry, squash salad, papaya ice cream…it was really good.

On the final day we rented a car and drove the circumference of Mahe, and through many of the rainforests and mountain ranges in between. It is impressive how non-touristy the Seychelles have remained. Even Mahe, the hub of the islands is more than 50% protected rainforest. Driving, one passes through many tiny local villages, past beautiful old churches, mangrove forests and of course amazing beaches, many of which feel totally undiscovered and pristine. The locals live well and the Seychelles have the highest HDI ranking in Africa. There are no townships, but rather sizeable, colourful colonially inspired houses with lovely gardens and long, steep drive ways often at 100 degree angles. You will need a good set of brakes to live here!

In conclusion, I loved the Seychelles. It felt really relaxing to be so deeply immersed in nature for ten days. The beaches are spectacular and the rainforests so dense and alive. To visit feels as if you have discovered a secret tropical hideaway, far from mass civilisation. Plus La Digue might just be the most beautiful tropical island in the world. However, to travel here is really, really expensive. The tourist board has carefully selected a target market of honeymooners and wealthy Europeans in an attempt to retain both exclusivity and stop the environmental ravages that accompany mass tourism. The value for money isn`t great – you pay Euros for most items and even by Euro standards they are expensive. And there is no justification for the terrible state of the food (Ile au Cerf excepted). But if you have the money and feel like travelling to islands that are literally thousands of miles from anywhere, these would be the ideal place to come.

Dynamic, Delicious, Dreamy Dubai - UAE

We decided to fly Emirates to the Seychelles, mostly because I don’t really trust obscure African airlines with names like Air Seychelles but also due to the fact it meant a free stopover in Dubai. In my opinion this more than made up for the extra ten hours of flying time our little detour added…though Johannes seemed less thrilled. Probably because he didn’t have sleeping pills and I did.

Let me start by saying that while Dubai is not for everybody, it is definitely for me. How do I even begin to describe this crazy place? It has a touch of the Las Vegas about it, though of course alcohol, scantily clad women and casinos are totally illegal and the UAE is a Muslim country. But it has the same vibrancy as Vegas – it is incredibly international with 85% of the population comprised of immigrants, 50% of whom are Indian, and there’s an electrifying energy in the air. Plus everything here is built in both grandiose scale and style – there must be a governmental decree of some sort demanding everything be the biggest, the best and the most luxurious.

The shopping is some of the best in the world and cheaper than in international counterparts like London, New York and Paris. Dubai brings together the best of these cities into the ultimate shopaholic’s wet dream: there’s a Galleries Lafayette and Laduree (with my favourite pistachio macarons…heaven) from Paris, a Bloomingdales and Saks Fifth Avenue from New York, and a Harvey Nics , Jo Malone etc from London…as well as a giant flagship boutique from every designer you could possibly think of. Then of course there’s the gold souk in Bur Dubai, where you find stall upon stall, block after block of fine jewelry hawkers where you can negotiate mad bargains on all that glitters. Our visit to the souk coincided with the arrival of a Bollywood star looking to expand his bling collection, causing mass pandemonium and confusing me because it looked like an emergency scene.

While I like to shop, I generally hate malls and prefer buying online or visiting Nolita style boutiques. But in Dubai the malls are on a completely different level to anywhere else. For instance Mall of the Emirates has the Ski Dubai indoor ski slope complete with chairlift, as well as a Sega World fun park (and Harvey Nics –yay!). The Dubai Mall, the world’s largest, spans more than 50 football fields and boasts a shark filled aquarium and skating rink. It also features an Armani hotel housed within the world’s tallest building, the Burj Khalifa. At nearly one km tall, the 160 floor Burj looks almost unreal. We had to laugh when we heard the call to prayer blasting through the malls, and saw the store directories flashing the message "time to pray". Even my boyfriend, the ultimate non shopper with the exception of book stores and golf boutiques fell in love with the malls – those who know him won’t believe it, those who don’t must understand that this is beyond momentous.

This isn’t to say that we spent the entire trip trawling shopping malls, because we didn’t. We explored Bur Dubai, checking out the old town and more traditional souks, we ferried across the creek in the little wooden water taxis, we visited the Grand Jumeirah Mosque and drove along iconic Sheikh Zayed Road, home to some of the world’s most impressive skyscrapers. We also visited the Burj Al Arab hotel, the famous sail shaped building with the satellite tennis court, which impossibly claims to be the world’s first seven star hotel when the absolute maximum score is only five. But our highlight was a trip to the top of the Burj Khalifa, which I had to book online well in advance due to it being a perpetual sell out. The view from the observation deck is unreal – and makes your realize what an odd city Dubai is. In between pockets of skyscrapers, you see that large gaps of sandy desert still line the streets, and the waterways (besides the Creek) are really just giant swimming pools. It looks as though Dubai could be swallowed up by desert within a few years if it was ever to fail as a city. Towards the (real) water you can also see manufactured island development The World, which is an odd looking, spotty collection of sandy shapes in the water that look nothing like planet Earth. I was more impressed with the two Palm Jumeirah islands which we saw from the plane as we left on our journey home. The deck even featured a gold vending machine, where various gold coins and bars could be purchased by inserting your credit card. By night there is a fountain show set to dramatic Arabian music at the base of the Burj, and while a little tacky, it was worth catching for the spectacle.

Eating in Dubai is gastronomic heaven and you are totally spoilt for choice. Anything and everything from anywhere imaginable is available. I (but not my waistline) really enjoyed reuniting with some of my favourite French pastries, and the chocolate selection was overwhelming. I was tempted to sit and eat all day though shopping demands meant that this fantasy remained unrealised – at least until my next visit. Strangely, with all of these options the hardest food to find was traditional Arabic which is what we craved. We managed to find one spot in less touristy Bur Dubai for schwarmas, but even there most of the restaurants were Indian which is my least favourite.

Dubai is massive and covers a huge area, and is therefore not a walking city. What looks like two city blocks on a map is actually a multi-kilometre, hour long trek under a scorching sun – think 37 degrees in the middle of winter. Anyway, you will be too exhausted from the shopping mall marathons to wander any streets. While taxis are reasonably priced and easily found, it is definitely worth taking the Dubai Metro because the stations themselves are tourist attractions. This must be the nicest metro I have ever seen: spotless and featuring sparkling marble and gleaming metallics, Dale Chihouly inspired chandeliers, glass escalators and elevators… they look like some kind of futuristic luxury space port as imagined in the pages of Architectural Digest.

In typical Middle Eastern style there are massive photos of the ruling UAE Sheikhs plastered everywhere – on buildings, awnings, road side billboards and posters, pieces of jewellery, passing cars...seriously, everywhere. The English language newspaper is full of complimentary stories covering their most excellent and generous good deeds and all around amazingness. Of course, these papers are also full of stories on female sorcerers and their spell casting, and the joys of polygamy…so, while entertaining and good for a chuckle, perhaps not the best news sources.

With Dubai being the least strict Islamic centre of its region, female visitors are asked to dress respectfully but are not required to cover themselves from head to toe. However, this dress code proved difficult to understand for some of the more chavtastic British females and many Russian…’ladies’ who seem convinced that dressing like a prostitute circa 1995 is the apex of style, especially in a Muslim country liberally sign posted with guides on acceptable attire.

Dubai is both tacky and terrific. It isn’t the destination for an extended holiday but spending four jam packed days there was perfect. From now on I will fly Emirates to take advantage of free stopovers and am even contemplating spending a year there once I finish in South Africa. I was really impressed with the marketing campaigns and design work I saw, and see some future potential for myself. Not to mention, I am starting to develop a bit of a crush on the Middle East. With the exception of some male attitudes, I find it exotic, mystical and somehow alluring. I can’t seem to quite get enough and am now thinking about Oman, Qatar and Kuwait as possible destinations.

...and I finally make it to Abu Dhabi, UAE

Throughout the past year I have sustained mild annoyance over the fact I wasn’t allowed into Abu Dhabi en route to South Africa. Nothing pains me more than foregoing a free travel opportunity, particularly one deemed unworthy of dedicated destination status…and especially when it is Air Canada’s fault. But in one of life’s little ironies, I finally made it there almost exactly one year to the day later. And…well…it turns out I hadn’t actually missed much.

To be honest, after the excitement of Dubai, Abu Dhabi is kind of a snooze. As opposed to its neighbour, which is where Emiratis and the rest of the world come to spend their money and eat like gluttons, Abu Dhabi is very relaxed and overwhelmingly (or maybe under-whelmingly is more appropriate) beige, lacking the showiness and dynamic energy of its younger neighbour. While they are building skyscrapers at a shocking rate, these tend to be conservative in design and the city mostly comprises pleasant parks (no small feat when you see the bleak desert and oil refineries that surround this place), offices and smaller scale shopping malls. It is the city where most Emiratis chose to live and seat of the UAE government and is therefore more conservative and more strictly Muslim. Like Dubai, life here also centres around a shopping complex, this time the Marina Mall and I must hand it to the Emirati: they do shop like champions.

Express buses run between the two cities every twenty minutes, and the drive takes around two hours. Upon arrival we caught a taxi straight to AD’s purported highlight, the Corniche, which is their answer to Vancouver’s seawall. While it offered a pleasant stroll past the city centre via the waterfront, construction was underway along the beach blocking us from the sand. There were views of the Marina Mall and government buildings but other than that it was not outstanding. Quickly bored, we headed for the CBD in search of souks and skyscrapers. I was surprised to find a lot of poor, decrepit apartment buildings which while ubiquitous across the rest of the Middle East were surprising to find in the world’s wealthiest country. These people are mind blowingly, vastly, filthy rich. Unfortunately the CBD didn’t appear to have much to offer either, so we made an executive decision to head back to Dubai and enjoy our last day there instead. The only things I was disappointed to have missed were the museum containing the sheik’s car collection and Ferrari World theme park, both of which appealed to my inner tomboy.

One Year Anniversary - Time Flies!

Boy, how the time flies. On Christmas Day I celebrated my leaving- Vancouver-one-year which means I have officially been away for a long time. As to be expected, I have completely forgotten what Canadian life feels like and am rather starting to feel like a South African, albeit one who has a better passport. I am also apparently starting to sound like one as certain words and phrases enter my lexicon, unnoticed by me but endlessly amusing to my local friends.

The last few months of the study year were hectic so I have fallen a little behind in my blogging. I have settled in well, having just moved into a gorgeous new apartment in the historic area of town and have acquired yet another South African boyfriend, Johannes, an extremely sweet philosopher who lectures at the university. He is finishing his second PhD from Cambridge University and is genius enough that I don’t actually understand what he is talking about some of the time. I suppose he is amused by my endless stream of nonsense talk and ability to find amusement in the simpler things. However, we travel well together and are heading to the Seychelles, Dubai and Abu Dhabi in a couple of days. While I do still really miss my friends from home I have at least established a solid base of people who I really like here which also helps with the settling process.

I have managed to undertake a few activities of note, including cage diving with great white sharks off the coast of Ganesbaai. It wasn’t as terrifying as one might expect and turned out to be a really interesting experience. It’s a shame the visibility is so bad in the waters though because you can only see the shark when it is about a metre from the cage...and your face. It makes for a pretty up close and personal encounter, and one’s tail even managed to slip between the bars while we were in there, as did an overly friendly sea snake which then proceeded to wrap itself around my leg. If there was one thing shark cage diving taught me, it is that I will never go swimming off the coast of South Africa again. We were maybe 350 metres from shore and were surrounded by ten sharks, some of which were five metres long and one of which had a giant bite out of its fin (her name was Demon and she is known to be a real bruiser). With the terrible visibility you could be swimming two metres from a massive shark and have no idea, which is not an appealing thought.

I also made the trip to Robben Island, a notorious former jail situated off of Cape Town and best known as Nelson Mandela’s home from 1964-1994. As far as prisons go, I found Alcatraz more interesting. The idyllic location and relatively comfortable surroundings actually make this one feel more like a resort. Though it has been a prison for more than 400 years, in its 20th century heyday it housed a lot of ANC political prisoners, particularly those involved in the fight against apartheid. I couldn’t help but think it wouldn’t be a bad idea to return some of the current crop of outrageously corrupt and inept ANC politicos to the island. To be blunt, I worry for the future of this country. Beyond the crime, illegal immigration and seriously flawed policies supposedly promoting equality (BEE does not work in anyone’s best interests)…the general ineptitude and greed of the ANC may well see South Africa head the way of Zimbabwe. Living here, it’s hard not to develop strong opinions about the farcical state of the government.

I have also visited Cape Point National Park on the Cape of Good Hope, which is the southern most point of SE Africa and a notorious ship wreck location containing an old lighthouse and other historic buildings as well as the usual baboons, bokkies and wildlife. It’s a stunning spot! Simonstown, a small coastal settlement has turned out to be my favourite local area with its penguin colony and pretty setting sandwiched between ocean and mountain. I made the trek to Franchoek a couple of times, a town setteled by French Hugenots in the 1700s and with some of the best wine farms the area has to offer, which is no small feat when you consider there are literally hundreds to choose from. In Johannesburg I went to the Joberg Day music festival and learned that there are a lot of great South African bands…which led me to reflect on just how much crap music Canada produces (Lavigne-Bieber-Dion-Nickleback anyone?). We also drove up the wildflower route through a bizarre little drag queen and farmer village (odd combination, I think?) called Darling to the coastal towns of Langebaan and Paternostre, which boasts some pretty impressive fields of colour in springtime.

I’m sure the next year will hold more adventures, especially as I plan to head out further into Africa.

Lesotho: Africa's Mountain Kingdom

The month-plus torture exercise otherwise known as final exams has concluded, just in time for the onset of African summer. With the weather turning and the first of my three years in South Africa drawing to a close, my boyfriend and I decided the time was right for a road trip. I had heard nothing but fantastic things about the Kingdom of Lesotho, described as ‘the Switzerland of Africa’ so without further ado, the destination was decided.

Lesotho is a solid 1100 km or 15 hour drive from Cape Town. Riddled with road works and stretching through the Karoo desert, it is not the most scenic motorway – but it was a great opportunity to see more (or rather most) of South Africa. Tired, sweaty, sunburnt and suffering from a serious case driving overdose, we crossed the overland border into Lesotho’s capital city Maseru.

Maseru is not the star attraction in Lesotho, but rather a necessary evil situated en route to the six-plus mountain ranges, national parks and nature reserves that comprise its countryside. It would be safe to say that Lesotho is in fact all mountains. Don’t quote me on this, but I actually think it statistically qualifies as the world’s most mountainous country... I remember having heard something to that effect. Even the lowlands where Maseru is situated are more than 1000 metres above sea level. The heights made for challenging driving and hiking at times and I did notice my pace was much slower…not to mention the puffing , panting and dramatics (mine) that accompany uphill exertion were just a little worse than usual.

Maseru is really just another African city, full of corrugated metal shacks, stray animals and garbage strewn streets. There are a few remnants of the 1860's British colonial period including a police station, post office, courthouses and the King’s palace (yes, Lesotho is still ruled by a King who lives in a heavily guarded palace – how typically, quintessentially African dictatorial), but otherwise it’s just a quick supply pit stop before heading for the hills. While we saw very, very few white people anywhere on this trip, oddly we did see hundreds of Chinese who are now conducting serious business in Lesotho, including diamond mining and clothing manufacturing. The Chinese contingent was especially concentrated at the local casino where we went to find food during what I now realize is an African standard: all day, city-wide power outages that effectively shut down an entire region. I had a hunch that somehow the casino would have ultra-powerful generators running in order to keep the money flowing, and I wasn’t wrong.

We headed out of Maseru asap, following what can only be described as one of the grossest yet expensive meals in recent memory, and straight to Thaba Bosiu, the mountain top fortress ruins of legendary Basotho King Moshoeshoe. The fort, considered impenetrable back in the day, has nothing on Masada but provided some seriously stunning views and a fun if slightly precarious climb scrambling over rocks and lizards. There were some interesting ruins at the top, though slightly less grand then expected, and we even made friends with a man we found hiding behind a rock. I thought he was going to mug us but instead he launched into a story about his life as a poor orphan whose siblings had died of HIV. He asked for a ride to the next town, and when we said ‘yes’, ran home to change out of his tattered rags and into designer jeans and an expensive sports jersey…and to grab his mobile phone, which was nicer than mine. Obviously this beggar was not quite the tourist milking mastermind he fancied himself to be.

By this point a serious thunder storm was brewing, so we decided to head for the university town of Roma where we spent the night in a little thatched roof hut at the Trading Post Lodge, which I loved but Johannes kept combing for spiders. Thankfully the power had returned at this point as I was not keen on the combination of candles and straw.

The next morning we climbed another mountain (as you can see, a pattern is starting to form) to check out some preserved dinosaur footprints. While the footprints themselves were a disappointment, the views were spectacular and I enjoyed hiking through the dirt village and being chased by seriously cute children demanding “pompoms”, their name for sweets. We were happy to oblige and I have to say that I was smitten with more than a few of those kids. The Basotho are generally really friendly, and everyone greets you, though of course very little English is spoken. They are simple country people who still dress in traditional blankets and hats, ride horses and donkeys for transport, and often delight in seeing their photos taken on the digital camera. Almost everyone in rural Lesotho is a sheep/goat/cow/donkey herder, and there are very, very few modern buildings. It is like taking a trip back in time – for the most part the modern world doesn’t exist, which I actually loved because I was craving a ‘getting away from it all’ experience.

We then hopped in our rented VW Polo – possibly the most ridiculous car to take to a country where there are two paved roads and everything else is mud, gravel and boulder dotted – to head deep inland through some of the higher mountain ranges. Needless to say, everyone else tackles these roads with huge trucks and 4x4 SUVs, but we decided to do it differently (read: like total clueless tourists). There were a few times where we nearly got stuck, and once we just had to give up and walk. Next up was some bushman cave paintings located down the roughest, rockiest, muddiest seven km road cutting through a valley that itself looked like a painting. The setting was beautiful, and the paintings were found on colourful rock faces lining a river and yet again there were no tourists anywhere – just a couple of shepherds and one extremely ripe smelling guide who led the way but spoke no English. We then headed deeper into the mountains over the Bushman’s, Molimo Nthuse and Blue Mountain passes towards the Mohale Dam, driving through settlements with unexpected names like Nazareth. The dam is part of the Lesotho Highlands Water Project, which wouldn’t be the type of attraction that usually catches my eye when traveling – but I am so glad we went. It looked like a giant crystal lake contained between a number of green mountains --and when you are trekking through extremely rural parts of Africa something like this makes for an unexpected sight. The drive alone makes the trip worthwhile because the views are seriously out of this world.

Our ultimate destination was Semonkong, a mountain lodge located in Lesotho’s central highlands by the Drakkensberg range and found at the very end of a dirt and gravel road running through another series of mountain passes with fitting names such as ‘God Help Me”. The drive is only 120 km, but takes between 4-5 hours to complete thanks to the treacherous climbs (average height is 3000 metres) and road conditions that prevent driving at speeds greater than 30 km/hour. I’m not going to lie: we were often scared. There were moments when we discussed fast evacuation strategies should the car slide over the side of a cliff. For once a seatbelt didn’t seem like such a good idea. The drive is considered one of Africa’s most stunning, and takes you past the “Breast Mountains” (they have nipples...maybe you need to see them to understand) and through lush green peaks and valleys. Apart from the occasional shepherd and his sheep/mountain goat flock (you should see the cliffs those things climb – unbelievable!) and a few thatched rondavel hut villages built on steep mountain faces, we encountered no other humans. I can’t ever recall a time I felt more in the middle of nowhere. Not that we minded since it was so incredibly beautiful…however, one small problem was that we underestimated the length of the drive and the sun was quickly setting. Soon we were enveloped in total blackness, in a region with no electricity, no people and no legible road signs…oh yes, and a one lane rocky gravel road with no guardrail. It was starting to look like we would be spending the night in the car with nothing but mountain goats for company. The route seemed to wind on forever, and we have never felt such relief as when we finally found Semonkong, which was completely non sign posted. It ended up being this tiny oasis in the middle of nowhere, with a South African chef (food, let alone edible food is hard to find outside of Maseru so a meal that wasn’t a stale bag of chips was welcome) and an electrical generator that was running for a whole hour! Bliss.

Lesotho is the skiing capital of southern Africa, and is covered by a thick layer of snow much of the year, which meant we were actually staying at a little thatched roof winter lodge complete with down bedding and a miraculous sight: indoor heating. It is located on a rushing river and is built on a steep mountain side, with little cottages dotting the hill – we loved it, and will definitely return though next time we will be making the drive in a 4x4. From the lodge we explored the Thaba Putsoa mountain range, with its rolling green hills dotted with the standard huts, donkeys, horses and flocks of sheep. The highlight was a hike to Maletsunyane Falls, which are southern Africa’s tallest at 150 metres, found in a narrow crack between two mountains and so tall that the bottom isn’t even visible from the top. Such an incredible area! The drive back was equally stunning, past farms with rust red soil fields, colourful people in traditional dress, and of course…sheep.

My final thoughts on Lesotho: While the roads and mountain passes are rough, winding, crumbling and at times terrifyingly steep, they provide some of the most dramatic, scenery of mountains and valleys to be found anywhere. And surely the population of sheep and goats is hundreds of times that of humans. In all, it is a really special place, friendly, laid back and primitive in the best possible way. Just bring a 4x4 and decent food should you go.

Next up: Namibia.

The Exotic Isle of Zanzibar

Zanzibar has always intrigued me. I think I had a romanticized notion of it dating back to childhood, from stories of slaves and pirates, of Sultans and their harems, and spices. And it didn’t disappoint.

While not exactly clean, and predominantly third world, the word that best sums up Zanzibar is exotic. It’s also eclectic in the sense that your surroundings make it hard to pinpoint where exactly in the world you are. Technically it’s Africa yes, but both the population and the architecture are a diverse mix of Arab, Indian, Malaysian, as well as African – though the people are predominantly Muslim and dressed accordingly no matter their racial denomination. To disembark from the ferry into the crazy melee at the terminal wasn’t a terrible experience. I actually found it enhanced the sense of adventure and reinforced the knowledge I was thousands of miles from home.

Zanzibar comprises two islands, and is two hours by high speed ferry ride from Dar Es Salaam. It is surrounded by the clearest, bluest waters imaginable and is bordered by beaches of the whitest sand I have ever seen – it has the consistency of talc and felt like clay between my toes. Add to this coral reefs, colourful fish and gigantic seashells – and what you get is paradise. It has so much to offer: it is so astoundingly rich in culture and history, and the natural physical beauty of the place is truly breathtaking.

The main city is Stone Town/Zanzibar Town, a UNESCO World Heritage site. The settlement is extremely old, and still has a colonial (German, British) vibe. Zanzibar, a Rastafarian I befriended on the ferry told me, doesn’t consider itself part of Africa or Tanzania and in fact has its own separatist movement. Up until the 1960s it was actually presided over by the ruling Sultans of Oman. The city is a jumble of old Indian, Arab and colonial buildings that feature the most intricate architectural detailing – there’s old palaces, an old dispensary, the old slave market (so sad what happened there), the old customs house, old mosques and churches, and bustling spice and produce markets. There’s also a market where you can watch them slaughter chickens as a form of entertainment, but I had neither the stomach nor heart to partake. The Old Quarter is a maze of narrow, winding alleyways lined with small mosques and market stalls. You really need to hire a walking guide for navigation, otherwise you will get lost – and possibly robbed. The buildings are crumbling, but feature carved wooden balconies and shutters, and most famously, massive, elaborate doors. These I learned are what Zanzibar is famous for. The doors are either Indian or Arab made - the Arab version features only ornate wooden carvings, while the Indian ones feature large metal spikes originally designed to stop elephants from charging them. The city’s hotels are built in old mansions painted brightly and with mosaic tiling and ebony embellishments, as well as little balconies and large arch shaped windows. In typical Middle Eastern style every building has a rooftop patio – an amazing venue from which to watch sunset over the roofs of the city (there are no buildings exceeding five floors here). One of the big attractions is the house where Freddie Mercury grew up. I had no idea he was from here and Queen isn't my thing, but it seems to be a huge tourist draw.

The harbour is a mix of yachts, freighters and old wooden dhows, one of which I took to Prison Island, about 30 minutes out. These dodgy wooden boats (I watched them bail one out with coffee mugs before the passengers boarded) seat 5-8 people and have non appropriate names painted across the sides like “Gladiator” or “Jambo”, and the crews are smelly, salty old seadogs in filthy tattered clothes. Anyway, Prison Island was both tranquil and amazing. It houses the ruins of an old slave prison, long since closed and now painted bright colours – it’s the happiest looking prison I have ever seen. It’s a prime diving and snorkeling spot with a deserted beach and best of all a giant tortoise sanctuary. The oldest is age 150 years and the others range from babies to more than 100. There are just over 150 tortoises, and you can wander among them, feed them (they love pineapple and cabbage), pet them, play with their babies – it’s like a petting zoo. They have far sharper teeth than I imagined, and they are massive – also, they can move damn fast when they want to. But they are so gentle, and their skin feels so leathery; they are very docile really. And just like dogs they enjoy a good chin scratch.

I also toured the old buildings and Sultan’s Palace in town, and bought the autobiography of national heroine Princess Salme, the Arabian princess who eloped with a German (oh the horror) in the 1800s, escaping the repressive life of a royal Muslim female. These places, which haven’t changed since the colonial period, effectively transport you back in time. The nightlife isn’t bad – we hung out at various cafes and a rooftop bar, sitting on pillows surrounded by Arabic flourishes and an arched roof watching the sunset, drinking watermelon,lemon and sugarcane juice, listening to the ‘call to prayer’. Being a Muslim country, alcohol is prohibitively expensive so we forewent booze. Most eating is done on rooftops, including breakfast for which we had a traditional Zanzibari spread– Papaya, special fried breads and Tanzanian donuts – oooh, and they make the BEST coffee, but damn it’s strong. In general, the food was really good though everything tastes like curry. There was one exception: I bought a peeled mango that looked so tasty at a street stall – but didn't realize that Zanzibar people don`t care for sweet things. So with fruit such as mango, they pour cayenne pepper and loads (seriously-loads!)of salt all over it. Lesson learned: salted, spicy mango is disgusting and not something I`d recommend.

Zanzibar is an incredibly lush place –it's nickname is the `spice island`. I went on a spice plantation tour with some Germans and a Dutch doctor I met, which took us far up the west coast of the island. Once you leave the city, it just has such a feeling of peace and calm, and your body automatically relaxes. The sound of the wind rustling in the palms, the dappled sunlight shining through the spice and fruit trees, the beautiful plants and the smell of spices and flowers in the air… and the locals, so friendly and laid back and in their colourful traditional clothing - there’s something really unique about it. The popular local saying is 'hakuna matata' which means ‘no worries’(you know it from the Lion King I’m sure) and that really is how they live. I have found very few places in the world that make me feel this way. I’m not the type to relax when I travel (always too much to see and do), but here, Uruguay, the French Riviera, Tel Aviv, Macau and Byron Bay have all had a similar vibe about them that I can’t quite articulate. The plantation was fantastic in that they literally picked everything fresh off the trees for us to try – the bark of the cinnamon tree smells amazing! The climate is so conducive to growth and the soil so rich that they can, and do, grow almost everything. We ate pepper corns, fresh cacao, jack and bread fruit, star fruit, vanilla, grapefruits, cayenne, cumin, cloves, cinnamon…and the food was great. A little hot - they use the spices and mix them with coconut milk and vegetables I have never seen before – and it tastes a little like some Thai foods. Unfortunately, Tanzania is also well known for parasites and food poisoning. I fared relatively well but definitely had stomach ‘issues’ for a solid week after returning to SA.

I was also lucky enough to be on the receiving end of a serious marriage proposal from a toothless old Muslim as we finished up the spice trip. Apparently the women of Zanzibar are ‘nasty’ and `a handful` but he had heard that Canadian women were well behaved and obedient. I had to decline – probably worked out best for him as well – I’m not sure many of my exes would describe me in those terms...and I like my men with teeth.

Next up, I headed along the East Coast (the deserted coast) to a thatched hut cabin for a couple of days of seriously needed peace and quiet. It was located between the villages of Paje and Jambiani, right on the beach. I didn’t love the miniature jumping spiders that looked suspiciously like tiny tarantulas, or the constant power outages – but did love pretty much everything else there. For three days I wore no shoes, didn’t comb my hair and basically just lived in a bikini on the most incredible beaches. Yes, I looked like a filthy hippie but I didn’t care. There were a few small hotels along the beach, and a kite surfing school, but otherwise it was quiet except for some annoying Masai from Kenya who lived in a tent and spent their days lying on the beach (sun tanning???) and harassing girls. I had to make up a fake husband to get rid of them – maybe I should have brought my toothless suitor along. I spent the days beach combing and found some incredible shells, as well as swimming, and lazing on the white sand or lying in a hammock listening to the waves and reading about the renegade princess. I also spoke with a few locals about living conditions in Zanzibar, and was even invited to a birthday party one night – but in the interest of my safety didn’t go though I really wanted to (sometimes being a girl sucks). I also trekked out to a super remote village to snorkel with dolphins, but as luck would have it a massive storm hit that morning. At 7 am I was not stoked to be on a rickety wooden boat with two non English speakers in gnatty speedos, chasing dolphins through massive waves that were totally unsnorkle-able. I ALMOST lost my breakfast over the side. So after beating a hasty retreat, I instead visited some small villages and saw how the people lived and played with local children. And then later in the day, I lay on the beach surrounded by a random herd of cows that just wandered down to sit at the water’s edge. Nights were spent socializing with the other guests – there were ten of us in all, dining by candle and star light on the actual beach, with millions of twinkling stars lighting up the sky. It was magical.