The trip here was bearable. I stayed over in a chalet type thing that I would have loved to call quaint, but just can't. Neat and tidy, but pretty much a place to sleep and get cleaned up, it was. They did have a pool, which was highly appreciated after a tiring drive. This was in Colesberg. A place that seems to be one big bed and breakfast. Just about every house there has a B&B sign on the gate. Apparently I am not the only person to think that it would be a good place to split the Cape Town-Jo'burg journey and the residents are making the most of it. As my impeccably neat lodgings didn't offer much in entertainment and buggerall in food, I went in search of sustenance in the bustling metropolis of Colesberg town. After walking through the whole length of the town, I went back to just about where I parked the car and entered a lovely little English pub called The Horse and Mill. I have to call something quaint in this post and this little pub qualifies. They do a very good lamb curry (mild, like the tannies at the kerkbazaar used to make it) and their Guinness isn't bad either. Oddly enough, they had their first pub quiz night, in aid of the local cricket team, on the very night that I was there. Seeing as I am missing out on pub quiz in Cape Town, I promptly requested a pen and piece of paper from the sweet waitress and ninja'ed in on their quiz. The people were great. Very friendly. They very quickly invited me in to play with officially. There was a 6 pack of beers up for grabs and as I joined in late, I would pay a reduced entry fee. I couldn't refuse. I don't know if I'd mentioned this before, but the Guinness was good and a friendly person there, bought me some more. In the end I didn't do too badly. I think I came in second, bearing in mind that I played on my own and the rest all had teams. Slept very soundly that night.
The next day was horrid. I have never in my life seen so many big trucks on one stretch of road. Also, about 50 kilometres after Bloemfontein, there is a toll gate. I stopped at an Ultra City at Bloem, got some breakfast at Steers and proceeded towards aforementioned toll gate. I get to the front of the queue, whip out my red, football player emblazoned Absa debit card and the gentleman looks at me and says: "Only cash and credit cards sir." I go: "Excuse me?" He repeats his sentence and I say (as I have no credit card - banks have finally discovered that giving me those things is just a bad idea for everybody): "So, where's the nearest bank machine?" He mumbles a reply of something about "turn around, 2 kilometres", I couldn't make out much. As he then closes his lane, directs the long queue of cars behind me to go to the next lane, so I can reverse out of there, I think to myself that nobody bloody told me about this. Yes, I was told about the speed cameras, about the staggering amount of trucks and that there are toll gates, but somehow, nobody thought it a good idea to let idiot boy know that these damn things don't take debit cards! So, as surreptitiously as I could manage, I extricated myself from the lane and traffic jam that I caused and headed back towards the nearest ATM. I scanned the immediate area. I scanned the horizons. I did not see anything 2 kilometres back. The gentleman at the gate must have been ever so slightly mistaken. I did not see anything for about 30 kilometres. The friggin toll gate is in the middle of nowhere. I had to drive back, almost to Bloemfontein again. Which, charming as some of its previous inhabitants might believe it is, is not a place that I wanted to visit twice on my journey. I eventually found a bank machine at a garage called the Sunny Hill Star Stop. Is it just me, or does that seem a little contradictory? After drawing more geld and refuelling the car, which I had planned on doing a bit later on the trip, but had to reschedule due to unplanned detours, I set off once again. At the toll gate, I was warmly received by the same attendant that made me turn around. I did not swear at him... Thereafter followed 50 bajillion more trucks until I arrived, pretty gatvol of driving, at our Honeydew branch.
Now, I have no idea how the roads work in this part of the world. There is no mountain or sea to assist in navigating, so the boss's father had to lead me to my lodgings for the night. Their pool house on their property in Bryanston, as it turns out. Very posh, darling. The boss's parents also took my colleague (who I am relieving from his duties) and I for dinner at their local seafood restaurant, which was grand and very kind of them. The colleague left the next day, after he quickly explained the goings on and gave me the keys and the Tom-Tom GPS thingy (this is essential. Without this machine I would have been so lost here). I moved to my lodgings for the next two months that night.
Before he left, my colleague did tell me that I should make a turn at Hooter's. Which is a restaurant. Apparently their food is good and the service is great. And the Jo'burg Hooter's is supposedly the largest one in the world. I figured it's probably one of those themed type of places. The theme being about old cars or horns or something. Oh boy, was I wrong. It is a themed restaurant, yes, but it's not about old cars at all. It's about the tight, white vest thingy, bright orange, short hotpant, white socks and sneakers-wearing Hooter's girls. Oh man. The food, albeit a bit pricey, is very good. Very chicken wings and prawns orientated, massive burgers, you get the idea. But the Hooter's girls... ...they are extremely well trained. Really. Very well trained. Those girls make so much money for that restaurant, and I have a feeling they don't do too badly with tips either. I couldn't help myself. Had to go back the next night as well. After having met friends for drinks at another pub (I had worked 'till 7, drove from Pretoria to Johannesburg - this takes about an hour - eventually found the place I was supposed to be), I decided it would be a splendid idea to see what the R50+ sandwiches at Hooter's tasted like. I found my delectably cute waitress from the night before - who seemed genuinely happy to see me, probably because she thought: "Hey, it's that idiot from last night that blew so much cash, let's see what I can make him spend tonight!" Still it was nice to be remembered and the hug wasn't too bad either. I looked at her and with my most charming smile said: "Please give me food, I am sooo hungry." And she looked at me with those pretty blue eyes and said with the cutest frown on her face: "Oh, I'm sorry, the kitchen closes at 10." My heart just dropped. So, I did what every warm blooded South African man would do and said: "Well, get me an Amstel then." When she came back with the beer I asked where I could then purchase some form of nourishment at this time of an evening and she directed me, admittedly begrudgingly, to Macdonalds. So much for my plans for the night. Still, I left with a smile on my face, a song in my heart and a growing fondness in my...
Anyway, I also did get horribly lost in this city on Friday. Although I can't really call it getting lost. To get lost, one needs to move from a point of known location and gradually work one's way towards a point of unknown location. I start from not knowing where the hell I am. Being somewhere else where I don't know where I am doesn't make all that much of a difference. Although being in the wrong place where I don't know where I am can be somewhat inconvenient. I took a turn-off into a highway, in the wrong direction. It took me about half an hour or so to figure out I was going directly the opposite way of where I needed to be. I had to reschedule the appointment for Monday and took about an hour and a half to get back to the office. Lovely. Oh, yes and these people are hugely into their road maintenance. There are roadworks going on everywhere. You're beetling down the highway at whatever the speed limit allows and suddenly the lane just ends. No road signs telling you it's about to end, just a few cones packed out over the lane. And the people drive either like maniacs or like they are in a funeral procession. It is lunacy.
Last night I spent at a braai at a mate's house.We've been friends for 24 years now. We phone each other 3 times a year. He phones me on my birthday. I phone him on his and one of us phones the other on Christmas. We kind of take turns with that one. It was great to see him and his wife and kids again. I ate like a pig. It was awesome.
The people here are, in general, really nice and friendly. I think it is because they don't have a mountain or a sea. They have to be nice to each other. In Cape Town we can afford to be clicky snobs. We don't need friends. We have a sea. And a mountain. I miss them. And my mates.
TFLNOTD:
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