Alice In Clubland

 We had such a chilled out Christmas this year.  No one was really in the mood to make a bit deal about it so we didn’t put any decorations up apart from one piece of tinsel wrapped around one of Jemma’s vases.  We bought each other a couple of little gifts to exchange in the morning but had decided to keep it simple.  We did have cocktails and snowballs for a couple of days before, but other than that didn’t bother getting into the whole thing.  They don’t make as much of a fuss about it all here and it’s a bit odd it being 35 degrees for Christmas anyway.  The funny thing is that the shops that do put decorations up still tend to use snowmen and snowflakes etc, even though it’s the middle of summer and they don’t get snow in winter anyway.  We still had a Christmas dinner but just bought a turkey crown (which didn’t taste at all like turkey) and didn’t even start the Christmas pudding until a few days later.  It was lovely not to get so embroiled in it.

For New Years we booked tickets to go a party called Alice in Clubland.  The theme was to wear a hat, presumably based on the idea of the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland.  I bought a bowler hat and added the 10/6 plus a feather and ribbon to make one similar to the Mad Hatter, while Jemma added a queen of hearts card to hers and had a gold mask to match her dress.  Glenn had red braces, a red hat and a multi-coloured mask.  After the last fancy dress party we’d been to we weren’t going to be caught out again.  The party was advertised on the radio constantly, so I had an idea in my head that it would be a bit like the Maid in China party we’d been to a few weeks before.  When we got there we were given a handful of mini glow sticks each, a UV sticker on our cheeks and a mini bottle of champagne.  The entrance was decorated with huge neon hangings that glowed in the UV light.  We were then given mini tea cups containing some kind of shot, possibly Apple Sours which I drank whilst sitting on a toadstool.  This is going to be awesome I thought… until I stepped foot into the actual club.  It was not at all as I’d imagined; they hadn’t bothered decorating any of the inside of the club and the place was tiny.  The music was ok but people hadn’t really made much effort with their hats so it was all a bit half arsed.  We had a couple of drinks and chatted to a few people then after a while decided we’d go and check out the Ministry of Sound party at the CTICC.

We got back into the car and jumped on the highway towards the venue, only to get stuck in traffic.  We sat there for what seemed like ages with the clock slowly ticking towards midnight.  I had images of us being in the car in traffic when we hit new year, but luckily it sped up just enough to get us their with 15 minutes to go.  Having parked the car, dumping our hats and practically running to the ticket office we were told that they had sold out and the venue was full, try again in an hour.  Gutted.  We headed up to the entrance to see if there was anything we could do and I noticed that the security checking people’s stamps and tickets were all a bit flustered by the amount of people trying to get in.  In desperation I suggested to Jem and Glenn that maybe we could just walk through with purpose and if we get stopped then at least we will have given it a good shot.  We went for it and amazingly all three of us managed to walk straight through without even being looked at by any of the security.  The place was no where near to what I’d call full.  Not only had we got in with 5 minutes to spare but had also saved ourselves 350 Rand each (that’s about 30 quid).  Bonus.

Managing to get to the bar and grab a drink we immediately joined in the countdown until midnight.  After the clock struck 12 we had a look around to see what was going on and discovered that the layout was still set up similar to the Maid in China party.  It turned out to be a really good night.  There were plenty of different djs in the different rooms again and plenty of bars to keep us entertained.  Towards the end of the evening we took a seat outside on the floor to watch the people with fire poi before heading home.  So it seems my blagging skills work internationally (well more like breaking and entering - minus the breaking).

Table Mountain

 Table Mountain is a huge looming mountain that is a backdrop to the sky of Cape Town.  It’s called Table Mountain for obvious reasons as unlike most mountains the top is pretty flat.  It’s about 1km high and has a nature reserve at the top.  When it’s cloudy there tends to be a layer of clouds that sits on the summit of the mountain which people call the Table Cloth.  One sunny day we decided to take the cable car up to the top of the mountain to see the incredible views of the city.

As I’m not a huge fan or heights or cable cars, by the time we’d got to the front of the que to get in the metal box that would take us up to the top, I was freaking out a little.  They’ve recently installed a new system so the actual cable cars are very flash; they have a rotating floor so you get to see the immense view as you go up.  Not my idea of fun.  I thought I’d give it a go but within a few seconds of slowly rising into the sky I thought better of it and sat down in the centre so that I wouldn’t be on the rotating floor (plus I couldn’t see out the windows from there) and pretended I was on a bus.

Once we were up I was fine with the height, as it tends to be being up high on man made things that can break, rather than the actual height that bothers me.  We walked around the path for a little while then Jemma decided to go off and have a coffee while Glenn and I continued looking around the nature reserve.  You are told to stick to the path when you leave the cable car but as with most things in Africa, no one pays much attention so most people were scrambling up on the rocks to get a better view.  There are no safety barriers or anything so if you slip it’s your problem.  I wanted to see the view and get a few photos of the city below so Glenn would go to the edge first to judge whether I’d cope with the height before calling me over (luckily for me he is fine with heights).  We wandered around the reserve while Glenn explained some of the facts about the wildlife to me.  We found a couple of Dasies which aren’t found in very many other places but they seem to like the habitat at the top of the mountain.  They are strange looking creatures, a little bit like huge hamsters.

The view from the top is absolutely incredible.  You can see all the bays below you plus you get a good view of Robin Island which is where Nelson Mandela was imprisoned.  You’re so high in fact that the view is quite surreal, it doesn’t really feel like the city below you is actually real.  Surprisingly there was no wind the day we were there so it was very hot.  We all caught the sun a little and ended up with beautiful panda eyes (mostly Jem and I though).  We caught up with Jemma and all got ice creams before joining the que to the cable car to take us back down.  This time I was really sure I’d stand up and look at the view, but again within a few seconds I’d changed my mind and sat back down again.  The member of staff noticed how scared I was and decided to embarrass me when we got to the bottom by asking everyone over the microphone to give me a round of applause.  For some reason one guy sang happy birthday to me in German leaving me looking a little confused then sang it again in English.  I’m not sure why he thought it was my birthday, maybe he misunderstood the announcement.  Looking up at the towering mountain above me, I was happy to have my feet firmly on the ground again.

Maid In China

For Glenn’s birthday we decided to go a party we’d seen advertised at the CTICC.  We booked the tickets, went to the beach, and then Jem and I went shopping to see if we could find an outfit to wear.  We went to every shop selling women’s clothes in the mall and tried on every dress we could find.  We discovered that perhaps going to the beach on the same day wasn’t the best plan as we were both striped with burnt skin and ridiculous tan lines.  Eventually when the mall was about to close we went back to the first shop we’d been to and bought a dress each, a clutch purse each and shoes to match.

After getting ready we set off to the party and on arriving realized that maybe we’d missed some part of vital information about the dress code.  There we all were smartly dressed when the people queing to get in were mostly dressed up as something to do with China.  There were a hell of a lot of people dressed up as pandas and also strangely a lot of men just wearing pants.  Feeling slightly out of place the person in front of us in the que looked at us and said ‘I don’t get it’ (referring to out outfits).  He was wearing some form of dress and had a feather duster.  It seems Maid In China was the theme and not the name of the party.  We obviously didn’t get the memo.  When we got inside we each got a Chinese temporary tattoo spray painted onto our skin as an attempt to fit in a little better.  Jem and I got a Chinese dragon on our cheeks while Glenn got a dragon on his chest.  He did seem to get a lot of attention from the gay men who all seemed a little disappointed when he introduced them to his wife.

The venue was huge.  The CTICC is a lot like the NEC and has huge rooms with concrete floors that can all be opened out to form a maze of different rooms.  They had really gone all out with the decorations and each room was hung with Chinese lanterns, decorated with dragons and had a different dj playing various styles of music.  There was a large stage outside with live bands including Kissy Sellout and various others that I can’t remember as some parts of the evening are a bit hazy.  When I got chatting to an English guy outside he explained that this was a gay party held every year with a different theme.  That would explain the amount of men dressed in bizarre outfits then.

It was really good fun.  There’s nothing like a gay party to have a good time at, everyone was so friendly and just out to have a laugh.  We danced all night and drank a fair amount until we ran out of money.  Unfortunately the cash point had broken by that time so I decided to try to persuade the guys at the Jagermeister stand to give me a free shot.  They were very charming but were reluctant to give me a free drink, until their very lovely manager (and boyfriend of our landlady) paid for it himself.  They also gave me a vest top, hat, key chain and stuck Jagermeister letters across my back.  After this we were starting to run out of steam (and decided Jemma had had enough to drink) so decided to head home.  Thinking it was still early I was disappointed with our performance, but then realized it was 4am.  Not so bad after all.

The Secret Bus Service

So after the longest journey by road I’ve ever done, we had finally arrived in Cape Town to the beautiful new house in Sonkring, Brackenfell.  A million miles away from the bug-dropping, electric shock giving, power cutting out house in Katima.  The first couple of days were of course spent unpacking and organizing whilst getting to know the area.  Cape Town is very American feeling; the buildings and streets look like they’re straight out of Florida and the feel of the place is quite American too.  Being a fairly new city that suddenly multiplied massively in size the transport isn’t that great unless you’re in central Cape Town.  The surrounding areas have been zoned into massive residential areas where there are all sorts of different houses as everyone seems to build their own (it is so much cheaper to build a house here).  I haven’t really seen estates of identical houses anywhere.  The good thing is that each residential area seems to have its very own mini-mall so you’re never to far from a shop.

One funny thing is that there are ‘English’ areas that have windy lanes and have a very British feel to them, and there are the Afrikaans areas that feel very American, with everything in between.  It’s not like Birmingham for example which has a similar feel throughout (albeit apart from the posh bits and poorer bits); every area in Cape Town looks and feels completely different.  There is the Victoria & Alfred Waterfront (and yes it is Alfred and not Albert - Alfred being their son) which is the harbour with a huge shopping mall and plenty of coffee shops to boot; this is very modern, well kept and touristy.  Then there’s Table View which surprisingly enough is on the opposite side to Table Mountain so you get the view; it’s trendy with lots of bars and restaurants.  If you venture further out into the vineyards it is a lot more picturesque with pretty white villas.  The time I’ve been here we seem to have been in areas from one extreme to the other.  It being difficult to use the public transport we’ve driven to the destinations we wanted to go to so have managed to see quite a bit of Cape Town.  The good thing is that unlike London it is very easy to drive around the city, even in the centre and the parking is ridiculously cheap and easy to find.  On our travels I’ve seen picturesque beaches with the mountains towering behind the bay, really rundown areas that remind me a lot of the scummier parts of Birmingham, huge modern malls (and plenty of them), windy lanes, massive motorways, mountains and the Cape Flats which are the ‘slum’ villages.

On the whole it’s an astoundingly beautiful place with the mountainous backdrop, vineyards spreading for miles, skyscraper city centre and gorgeous beaches but it still lacks a few creature comforts.  For example when we went into a shop to enquire about internet they only seemed to offer internet via a dongle.  When asking if they had broadband the reply was that they haven’t got it yet.  Is it me or have we had wired internet for about 20 years?  That’s the funny thing about Cape Town, on some levels it’s really advanced and seems super hi-tech, but on other levels they seem years behind.  The internet and mobile phone prices are ridiculously expensive, it’s like the few providers have the monopoly so can and will charge whatever they want.  The cinemas (in Cape Town and Namibia) don’t have surround sound; it took us a while to work out why the sound quality was so rubbish but when we finally did it seemed really strange.  I guess it’s something we just take for granted but when you’re then sitting in a cinema it feels like you’ve got back in time.  One explanation for this is perhaps that the weather is so much nicer here that there isn’t the market for indoor activities like in Britain, so maybe they’re not willing to spend the money on it as they certainly have the technology, who knows.  Generally anything electronic seems either on par with us or a lot more expensive depending on what you’re going for, but the food prices and other things are loads cheaper.  You can easily get a nice lunch in a good restaurant for 3 people with 3 coffees for less than 10 pounds, it’s a steal.

One thing that the Africans in general seem to have that we don’t are basket trolleys.  Genius.  They are small trolleys that hold your basket in the supermarket so you don’t have to lug one round and they even hold up to 3 at a time, why haven’t we thought of that?!  Also the men in the petrol stations that fill up your car for you, I know we used to have a similar operation but these guys also do your oil, water and tyres for you, without you even having to get out the car.  To think what better condition all our cars would be in if we had a service like that.  The parties I’ve been to here have also been awesome, generally very friendly and lots of good fun.  The men seriously need to work on their chat-up lines though; at one party I had a guy that first told me he was gay, then admitted he was straight and continued to go on saying he thought we were made for each other without having even asked my name.  When I pointed this out to him he seemed a little flustered and so I showed him my driving license to give him a clue to which he exclaimed Lizzie!  Not the sharpest tool in the box.

I would definitely recommend a visit to this beautiful place if you ever have the chance, but whether I’d want to live here long term I’m not too sure.  If you’re doing the touristy thing there are loads of places to go and see, plus with the amount of malls (Century City, Tiger Valley, V&A, N1 City to name just a few) there are certainly some opportunities to do some shopping.  Table Mountain is worth a trip as are the vineyards.  You’re spoilt for choice with beaches; some on the Atlantic perfect for surfing with others on the Indian which are great for sunbathing and swimming.  It’s worth checking out what’s on at the CTICC (a bit like the NEC) as both the events I’ve been to there have been amazing.  There are also the gardens and plenty of historical sights to see too.  The only thing really that makes me debate about a life here is the pure difficulty to get any information about anything.  Why not use the internet you say?  Well we have tried that too but if you’re lucky enough to find a website about what you’re looking for then it’s usually not up to date.  We tried for weeks to find out if there were any busses running in our area.  We asked at tourist information (which took us 3 attempts to find in the first place as the maps and websites were out of date) but although they were very helpful, they didn’t know much about the transport.  We finally found a website for the busses but it didn’t state where or when they ran so we rang the enquiry line, which referred us to the website.  We are were starting to think that it is some form of secret bus service that only very particular people could use and have contemplated just standing on the road until we see one (if we see one) and trying to flag it down.  We even found lay-by type things that look a lot like bus stops but don’t have a sign or a timetable so we’re not entirely sure what they are.

The secret bus service pretty much sums up the attitude here about information.  If you don’t already know what you want to know then it’s unlikely you’ll ever find out.  So as a tourist destination, definitely, but to live permanently, maybe not.

The Neverending Journey

After a restful few days in Windhoek with Glenn’s family and much enjoyment of the civilized amenities, we set off for Cape Town.  The cats were being left behind as they needed to have had their rabies jabs for over a month before being allowed into South Africa, so Glenn’s mum was going to look after them and put them on a flight when they were ready.  Amazingly, Glenn’s mum had managed to re-pack the car for us so that Jemma could fit in as well, meaning that we hardly had to leave anything behind; just an old suit of Glenn’s and the kettle (in hindsight we probably could have chosen something less needed).  It was like watching a master at work, she carefully filled the vases and glass jars with anything that would fit, and used a tactical approach to wedging everything in like a jigsaw.  My space in the back was not much larger than me, I had things piled up to the roof on my right hand side, a quilt to sit on and even things under my feet, it’s a good thing I’m not claustrophobic.  It was quite cosy though, and surprisingly comfortable to sleep as I had the pile of objects to rest my head on.

We set off at 3am again with Glenn driving after a minor panic that Jemma couldn’t find her passport.  Of course Jem and I promptly fell straight to sleep leaving Glenn holding the fort.  After I don’t know how many hours I awoke and continued to read my Harry Potter book.  We planned to drive straight the way through with no sightseeing stops (although we were allowed to ask for toilet stops) as the drive from Windhoek to Cape Town is about 16 hours on a good day, although we did stop early in the morning to grab some breakfast at Wimpy, which for the record is a hell of a lot nicer over here than it is in England.  As we drove further into southern Namibia it struck me how similar the landscape is for miles on end.  From Katima to Windhoek it changed quite constantly going from bush to hills to mountains, but this time it was just flat bush as far as the eye could see.  The roads are incredibly straight, they make our ‘Roman roads’ look pathetic.  These ones go on for hours with no bends, no change to the landscape and no villages or towns.  They’re not fun to drive on because there is nothing to keep your attention as nothing changes for hours on end.  You’d be a bit screwed if you broke down.

After many more hours of the same landscape and me nearing the end of my book in between naps, the scenery started to change.  There were mountains in the distance and the road became more bendy, winding in between the slopes.  After a quick stop at a service station to fill the car with yet more petrol, Glenn warned us that we were approaching the South African border.  When we finally reached it we were immediately told to turn round and go back to the petrol station we had just been to, to buy a ‘Nam’ bumper sticker to show which country the car had come from.  On the second attempt at the border we were let through and did the usual tedious filling in of forms.  The border here was definitely a lot different to all the ones I’d seen in Zambia and Botswana, which looked mostly like run down huts with big scary looking black men who didn’t really pay much attention to you.  This one was clean and modern, and had well-ironed suited men behind the counters who looked at us with interest.  After explaining our trip they stamped our passports and let us through.

Thinking that now we were over the border we must nearly be there I took to checking out the scenery, this lasted about an hour before I got bored and went back to my book (Jemma had mostly been asleep so far).  The landscape continued getting more and more mountainous with each minute we drove through it.  It looked like someone had super-imposed the mountains in the background as there were so many they just became dark shadows against the horizon.  After at least 14 hours of driving, I was starting to get incredibly bored and uncomfortable in my little cocoon in the back of the car.  I can’t imagine how Glenn felt.  With Jemma successfully awake by now I decided to persuade her to teach me some more Afrikaans.  She chose to go with animals and started by telling me the names of them and then quizzing me over and over, with Glenn correcting our pronunciation occasionally.  Soon becoming tired of this and me quite good at remembering the names of animals in Afrikaans, Jemma and I started getting a bit delirious with the boredom and started asking Glenn ‘are we there yet?’ over and over again whilst slotting in random words like ‘owl’ in strange voices.  Boredom can do strange things.

As we drew nearer to Cape Town the scenery was beautiful; we were completely surrounded by mountains and started to see signs of the vineyards that take over the whole outskirts of the city.  It really is an extraordinary sight, they spread out below us for miles with rows and rows of well kept green vines.  When we were about half an hour away Jemma rang to arrange the collection of the keys to our new house, only to find that the landlady was away and her mother didn’t think her husband would be too pleased with her venturing out to give us the keys.  Why they didn’t tell us this beforehand as they knew we were coming that day and why that seemed ok to leave us with nowhere to stay after a 17 hour drive is beyond me.  After some negotiation we agreed that we would book into a hotel which would be paid for by the landlady.  We found one reasonably near the area of the house and booked in to stay the night.  It was nice to spend the evening in the restaurant after such a long trek, with a waiter that was so keen to impress he even suggested with some force to order a passion fruit and lemonade instead of just lemonade, as obviously this was far too bland (and probably a lot cheaper).

The next morning we met the landlady’s mother at one of the malls near the house, where she gave us the keys and drove us to the door as we didn’t know the area.  The house is beautiful; a huge 3 bed-roomed modern house on a quiet estate in Brakenfell.  There are huge walls around the boundaries with an electric gate and garage door for security.  There are armed response vans that patrol the area day and night for extra security, which seem a little extreme as the place is very quiet, but I guess it’s better to be safe than sorry.  The interior is all tiled with new kitchens and bathrooms; in fact I think the whole house is only a few years old.  The area has a lot of plots that you can buy to build your own house so each one in the road is different which makes a nice change from the similar-looking houses in towns in England.  Definitely a good find by Glenn.

Windhoek Voyage

Jemma and the cats having safely been packed off on a flight to Windhoek in the afternoon, Glenn and I packed up the rest of the stuff from the house into the car.  Glenn had arranged for a friend of his to come round to collect the furniture that he had bought, although he turned up about 4 hours late.  By this point we were sat on the floor with hardly anything left in the house.  He came in and started loading everything onto his bukki with the help of his brother and 2 young boys.  Whilst simultaneously asking me to be his wife (he actually already had a wife but his religion allows him to have more than one), he packed everything up and tried to haggle with Glenn for a few of the other things left.  Finally when they had cleared everything and given up trying to buy the TV screen, they left us to it.  There was nothing left except the airbed I was sleeping on and Glenn and Jem’s bed which was being left behind.  Glenn and I headed off to our beds as we had an early start the next day.

At 2.30am my alarm went off, having had all of about 2 hours sleep.  I got up, had a quick shower and crammed the rest of my stuff into the car.  It was absolutely jammed full.  After getting petrol and some drinks we set off on our long journey to Windhoek.  I promptly fell asleep and woke up just as the sun was rising at about 6.30am.  We stopped by the side of the road to have a toilet break and as I walked back to the car I noticed Glenn trying to remove a very brightly colored dead bird from the grill.  He quickly told me to turn around so I wouldn’t have to watch the gruesome sight, then once all was sorted we set off again.  Unlike the UK where there are towns and villages everywhere, Namibia has hundreds of kilometers of nothing but bush, so it is quite common to see people weeing at the side of the road as there’s nowhere else to go.  Apparently it’s not rude to do it, but it’s rude to watch someone.  It was quite a fun journey, we chatted a lot and I read my Harry Potter book which I was quite engrossed in by then.  I certainly got to see a lot of Namibia.  We stopped at one of the small towns called Rundu on the way to have breakfast.  It was interesting to see how different the towns were compared to Katima, which really is the back of beyond.  I took photos of a cow-pulled plough, a small boy rolling a tyre, the pottery markets all by the side of the road etc, pretty much all the things you wouldn’t see in England.

Our first planned stop we’d decided on was to see the Hoba meteorite near Grootfontein.  After a good 8 hours of driving already behind us we started to draw near to the destination of it so took a slight detour from our journey to make this stop.  It is the largest known meteorite in the world that is still in one piece.  The crater it made is immense… it’s so big I didn’t notice that we were driving through it until Glenn pointed out that the valley we were in was formed by the collision.  It was quite interesting to see, and being Africa there weren’t any restrictions so I happily went and stood on it.

After a few more hours of driving, lots of reading, smoking and chatting, we stopped off at a petrol station in Otavi to grab some more drinks and also see if we could find the camel farm I had heard about and wanted to see.  It turns out it is not actually a farm but a private house who’s owner is particularly fond of stray animals.  After some gentle persuasion from Glenn the manager of the petrol station rang the owner of the house and he agreed to meet us.  He was a really lovely guy.  He took us on a tour of his own garden and introduced us to all his animals.  He liked to give them good homes if they were hurt etc so had gradually built up a small collection of strange pets.  He first took us to see the blue wilder beast which was in a large enclosure with a zebra.  He strolled right up to the fence and let us stroke him through the wire, but apparently the zebra had got very bad tempered over the years so we were advised not to attempt to touch him as well. The wilder beast was really friendly though and stayed next to us the whole time we were there, enjoying the attention.  Next the man took us through his back garden to his huge beautiful house and introduced us to a mini deer like thing called a Duiker which was sitting in his kitchen.  I thought it was a baby but apparently it was at it’s full size, they just really are that small.  Next we headed out into the garden and saw two alpacas.  They were a little scary due to them being as tall as me, and it seemed they weren’t that fond of me either.  They let the man stroke them and seemed fine with Glenn but were wary of me.  With some encouragement I shuffled up to one of them and attempted to stroke it, but he seemed more interested in my foot.  I was wondering whether the alpaca would bite me when the man confirmed my theory by warning me not to let him sniff my foot.  He showed us all around the rest of his animals which included some more deer like things and an ostrich or two then we thanked him and said our goodbyes.  It was amazing that he’d just given two complete strangers a tour of his house and garden, especially as he refused to accept any money from us.

After a further 3 more or so hours of driving and the total now racking up to about 14 hours, I was starting to get rather bored and uncomfortable.  It was definitely the best way to see Namibia as we drove straight from the northern most tip to the centre, but it was by far the longest drive I’d ever done, and I wasn’t even the one driving.  I was relieved when we reached Otjiwarongo where we stopped to see the crocodile ranch, my patience with being in the car was quickly running out.  I’d found this place in my Lonely Planet guide and thought it would be a good place to check out as I had never seen a full size crocodile before.  All the ones I’d seen on the boat trip with Mum and Dick had been babies, although I was quite glad of this at the time.  The ranch breeds the crocodiles to be used for meat and their skin, but also to help with the population as crocodiles are quite often poached or killed for fun.  It is the only place in Namibia that breeds them so I thought it would be worth stopping there.  I was expecting it to creep me out at first as I’m usually a bit funny about the subject of things being bred for meat etc, but it didn’t actually bother me and they seemed quite happy.  We had a private tour around the ranch and the lady showed us the adult crocs which were immense.  The thing that surprised me was how still they are; I thought they might be thrashing around a bit but they don’t move unless they’re attacking something or being fed.  We were told all about  the eggs they lay and their lifespan etc, then showed into a building where all the baby crocs were.  There were hundreds off them.  After the tour we had a look at some of the bags and other products made out of their skins and were also given a whole skin to hold.  It was basically like leather but with a scaly pattern on.  Glenn had ordered a crocodile steak on our way in so that we could take it with us to try.  As soon as we got back to the car we had a mouthful each and surprisingly it tasted a lot like chicken.  Aside from the thought of it, it was actually quite nice.

Back on the road again for another couple of hours we eventually started seeing signs of Windhoek.  It looks a lot like Florida, very clean looking and all American style buildings.  After the 16-17 hour drive it was nice to finally be nearing our destination.  When we reached Glenn’s parents house we were greeted by Jemma, Glenn’s parents, Glenn’s sister and her two kids.  It was lovely to meet them but also a little exhausting after such a long drive.  We all ate dinner together and then crashed out for the night.  We spent the next few days enjoying the civilisation of Windhoek compared to the bush of Katima, making the most of the malls, cinemas and bars, knowing that in a few more days we had another mega journey to do.

Cats on Valium

Our journey to Cape Town was going to be done in 2 parts; the first a drive and flight to Windhoek, the capital of Namibia, then after a week long stay there with Glenn’s parents we would start the journey into South Africa.  With the plan for the cats and Jemma being packed off on a plane to Windhoek so there would be enough space in the car to pack everything, we needed to find a sedative to give the cats for the flight (although it probably would have been a good idea to give Jemma one too).  Having no luck at the vet and quickly running out of ideas with Katima not exactly being the hub of civilisation, someone had suggested we give them a small dose of valium.  We thought it would be a good idea to test this out before the flight.  The night before they were due to fly we got hold of some from Brent, the pharmacist that Glenn worked for, and gave it a go.

We split one pill into quarters and surprisingly easily got the cats to swallow a bit each.  Thinking the hard part was over we let them wander round the house for a bit, having blocked off all their possible escape routes.  It seems valium doesn’t work that well on cats.  Henry (the tom cat) decided he didn’t like the feeling very much so turned his frustration into anger, attacking everything in sight; the sofa, Oscar (the female cat), our legs, in fact anything that came within reach.  After many scratches and a good half an hour we put him on the bed and Jemma lay with him trying to calm him down.  I sat with Oscar in the living room while she waddled around with lazy back legs looking as if she was drunk.  Having tried to jump up onto the table 3 times with no success (she kept jumping upwards instead of across), she decided to make a break for it and jumped head first into the window.  With a loud clunk she fell back down to the floor looking slightly dazed, it was definitely a sight to see.  Amazingly she went for the one window in the living room that had glass, all the others were made of mesh and she probably would have gone straight through them.

Meanwhile Henry was slightly dozy laying on the bed with Jemma, chewing a toy bird.  When the wings and tail had disappeared from said bird, we were trying to work out where they had gone only to realise that Henry had actually swallowed them.  Having removed the bird from Henry’s grasp we brought Oscar onto the bed too, to see if we could get them to go to sleep.  I lay stroking Oscar while Jemma was still with Henry.  They started to doze off, but at the slightest noise would wake up and attack anything within reach; me, Jemma, each other, they weren’t too fussy.  Realising this obviously wasn’t working to plan, we decided to separate them and take one of them to bed with us each.  I took Henry while Oscar still roamed about the house for a while.  I got into bed taking Henry with me, and tucked my mosquito net in all around the mattress as usual.  For a few minutes the plan seemed to be working as Henry dozed off on my lap.  Oscar, who was still wandering around decided to get onto Jem and Glenn’s bed so took a run up and made the jump.  She missed, hitting the bed head first as she had done with the window.  After a little help and now safely on the bed she settled down for a while.

Henry by this point had woken up and was attacking the moths and beetles landing on my net from the inside.  He kept jumping up and going for the bugs but couldn’t understand why he wasn’t able to catch them.  Having seen what he had done to Jemma’s net as a kitten and with no wish to spend the next few nights with huge holes in mine, I kicked him out.  He didn’t seem to mind and continued to take his aggression out on the bugs.  I finally fell asleep but was rudely awoken in the middle of the night by Henry jumping onto my net again trying to catch a moth.  He was right above my head and ended up hanging there for a few seconds until I managed to unhook him and shoo him away.  If you’ve ever seen the ‘Simon’s cat’ videos on youtube you’ll understand what I mean when I say he looked exactly like a sketch from one of them.  It was not a restful night.  So if you ever need to sedate a cat for any reason, don’t bother trying valium; I’ve still got the scars to prove it.