Marnie and Pru are off in Mayfair soaking up Somali culture this morning, giving me the chance to recount the weekend’s events.
After a much needed day’s rest on Friday, we drove up to the Manyane lodge in Pilanesburg National Park, just north of Sun City. Cassie and his family had rented a chateau with Pru, and we were to meet up, hijinks and merriment sure to ensue.
We didn’t have too hard a time finding the place, but, to sound a reoccurring note, sign postage is not South Africa’s strong point. We had written down the route numbers from MapQuest, but these are rarely displayed on street signs, even for major motorways, so a lot of educated guesswork was necessary. World Cup travellers- be forewarned.
An additional threat exists from the hawkers selling their bags of oranges and avocados at even the remotest of intersections, with absolutely nothing for miles around. I understand the fellas are just trying to scrape by, but standing in the middle of a lane with an onrushing vehicle is just stupid, and getting whacked by a side mirror isn’t likely to net many sales.
On a side note, I had wondered aloud where they got all those oranges, when we passed a large number of groves around the Hartbeesport Dam area. There were also numerous fields of sunflowers in the vacant, flat tracks around Pilanesburg. Seeing the dry, scraggly landscape, you’d understand why the thought of any cash crops thriving in the area is surprising.
Upon arriving, we immediately partook of some frosty adult beverages and a “light” lunch of boerwors sausage, as per custom (wouldn’t want to be rude, after all). Later, Marnie and I observed very South African traditions, albeit separately; she and Pru went on an evening game drive, while Cassie and I drank beer and watched rugby.
The match was accompanied by a soundtrack of venomous sounding Afrikaans, as Cassie says he’s incapable of swearing at the referees in English, though his daughter scolded him on the few occasions an F-bomb slipped out. The ladies returned after dark from their safari, and we enjoyed fillet on the grill, before a bit of wet firewood smoked us out for the evening. Cassie drove us the short distance back to our own chateau, as Marnie was fearful of being assaulted by rogue baboons. When we arrived, a herd of impala was tramping through the back yard.
The next day, we decided against a visit to Sun City, Cassie informing us that it’s quite expensive to get in if you’re not planning on spending the whole day. On the way back, we drove across the scenic Hartbeesport Dam, but unfortunately we couldn’t find a place to park, so our visit was merely a drive-by. Cars were backed up a good mile in either direction awaiting their turn across the single lane Dam, giving hawkers the opportunity to annoy captive drivers. A guy selling wallets asked me, “What country you from? You look so angry…” How very perceptive.
After a much needed day’s rest on Friday, we drove up to the Manyane lodge in Pilanesburg National Park, just north of Sun City. Cassie and his family had rented a chateau with Pru, and we were to meet up, hijinks and merriment sure to ensue.
We didn’t have too hard a time finding the place, but, to sound a reoccurring note, sign postage is not South Africa’s strong point. We had written down the route numbers from MapQuest, but these are rarely displayed on street signs, even for major motorways, so a lot of educated guesswork was necessary. World Cup travellers- be forewarned.
An additional threat exists from the hawkers selling their bags of oranges and avocados at even the remotest of intersections, with absolutely nothing for miles around. I understand the fellas are just trying to scrape by, but standing in the middle of a lane with an onrushing vehicle is just stupid, and getting whacked by a side mirror isn’t likely to net many sales.
On a side note, I had wondered aloud where they got all those oranges, when we passed a large number of groves around the Hartbeesport Dam area. There were also numerous fields of sunflowers in the vacant, flat tracks around Pilanesburg. Seeing the dry, scraggly landscape, you’d understand why the thought of any cash crops thriving in the area is surprising.
Upon arriving, we immediately partook of some frosty adult beverages and a “light” lunch of boerwors sausage, as per custom (wouldn’t want to be rude, after all). Later, Marnie and I observed very South African traditions, albeit separately; she and Pru went on an evening game drive, while Cassie and I drank beer and watched rugby.
The match was accompanied by a soundtrack of venomous sounding Afrikaans, as Cassie says he’s incapable of swearing at the referees in English, though his daughter scolded him on the few occasions an F-bomb slipped out. The ladies returned after dark from their safari, and we enjoyed fillet on the grill, before a bit of wet firewood smoked us out for the evening. Cassie drove us the short distance back to our own chateau, as Marnie was fearful of being assaulted by rogue baboons. When we arrived, a herd of impala was tramping through the back yard.
The next day, we decided against a visit to Sun City, Cassie informing us that it’s quite expensive to get in if you’re not planning on spending the whole day. On the way back, we drove across the scenic Hartbeesport Dam, but unfortunately we couldn’t find a place to park, so our visit was merely a drive-by. Cars were backed up a good mile in either direction awaiting their turn across the single lane Dam, giving hawkers the opportunity to annoy captive drivers. A guy selling wallets asked me, “What country you from? You look so angry…” How very perceptive.
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