Back in the fall a long lost friend from my Bucknell days messaged me on Facebook. Scott was a year behind me so we only went to university together for a year before I transferred to Maryland to pursue nursing. I couldn't tell you the specifics of a single one of our interactions back there, but once a Bucknellian, always a Bucknellian... Scott has been living in Johannesburg, South Africa for the last five and a half years. He first told me about a massive road trip he was planning from Johannesburg to Nairobi in the spring, then he invited me to Thanksgiving dinner.
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| Bucknell Outing Club Officers 2004-2005 Me to the Right of Jim the Advisor and Scott to the Left (baseball cap) Taken May 2005 |
And thus, the rebirth of a friendship started. I didn't go to Thanksgiving dinner, but happily offered our guest room on his journey. As my time here passed we kept in touch, me essentially providing what little knowledge I have of the region when asked and he completely debunking my ideas for this week vacation and convincing me to do something different. I originally was thinking about going to Cape Town. It's beautiful and I would love to see it and sit on a beach. I can't remember the last time I sat on a warm beach (San Francisco doesn't count). But I was informed very unceremoniously that Cape Town is cold and Easter is not a great time to visit. Why not come to Johannesburg? Because I want to sit on a beach. And yet somehow, about 30 minutes later I'd agreed and bought a ticket. It wasn't very long before Scott's, "I'll take a long weekend trip with you" turned into him taking the entire week off and planning one of the best vacations ever.
Not only did I get the beach, but I got great food, zero stress, beautiful scenery, camping with wild animals, and I didn't have to lift a finger and do anything but show up and have fun. Well I dropped the ball a little on my responsibilities. I didn't show up.
At least not on time. Delays in Kigali and a forgotten time zone change lead me to miss my connection in Nairobi by twenty minutes. I ran through the entire airport in flipflops and my backpack praying that for the first time everything was running on "african time." For once, things were running on time. I was deflated, sweating, and completely out of breath. Kenya Airways just bought me a two hour wait for my bag (I certainly wasn't trusting them to get it on the right flight the next morning), three hours of sleep in a hotel, and a whole lot of disappointment. (Read Scott's short rendition of the start of our adventure in his blog!)
But have no fear! On the bright side, I got to see the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro since I was flying in daylight and I finally arrived in Johannesburg, 12 hours late, but in one piece. Scott was exactly where he said he would be, propped against a pillar reading Atlas Shrugged on his Kindle just outside customs. Ten years hadn't changed him much. We loaded the car, he handed me a cold Miller Genuine Draft and a sushi lunch, and we immediately hit the road. I was in heaven. Best. Surprise. Lunch. Ever. Then again, since moving to Africa, the way to my heart is through my stomach, it doesn't take much these days.
The plan had always been to get on the road the second I landed, Easter weekend means lots of travelers and we were headed to Mozambique. I was going to get my beach fix and finally get to see (and swim) in the Indian Ocean. The queues to cross the border can be insane so we were in for a long drive around Swaziland to the southern most border crossing at Kosi Bay. As we drove I loved how South Africa looks. Parts look very similar to the midwest United States. Then randomly you would see zebras and ostriches fenced in someone's yard and recall that you really are in Africa. Scott had rearranged our schedule and booked a tented lodge just 4 km from the crossing. The staff was lovely. We showed up after eight hours on the road (I was quite impressed that I hadn't fallen asleep) and an hour after dinner was served. The staff stayed and cooked dinner just for the two of us. It was so sweet and delicious. Proper salad, scalloped potatoes and chicken breast without bones. It's the little things in life that mean so much.
We headed out early nervous that the queue might be extremely long taking our place in line at about 6:45 am... Turns out everyone who wanted to go to Mozambique for the holiday weekend had already crossed. We would have cruised through the crossing if the South African side hadn't attempted to apply common sense to Scott's permanent residency. But once the gates opened at 8 am it only took us an hour to get everything accomplished.
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| Ever so serious with Atlas Shrugged |
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| I was pretty excited... another stamp in my passport! |
I looked at the road before us... It was sand. Not gritty dirt, but pure sand dunes. I couldn't help but laugh as Scott put his car into four wheel drive and off we went and miraculously never got stuck.
We drove into Ponta do Ouro, a little beach town with a similar market and a few shops and bars and lots of craft kiosks. At the very end of the road, right on the water was our accommodation. The Whaler, is a reed room dive camp. Did I mention we were going scuba diving?
I became certified during my freshman year at Bucknell. I had gone diving in the Caribbean during my friends wedding but that was going on seven years ago. I was excited and then nervous as within an hour of our arrival we were on the beach suited up and headed for the water. I'd forgotten what a pain in the butt wet suits can be and it took Scott and his friend Barry hoisting it up and ultimately lifting me off the ground (I felt as though I was in a rugby match) to get the thing on. It was quite comical. In my first six hours in Ponta I did two dives and absolutely loved it. By the time I surfaced on my second dive the wind had kicked up and it was a little rough getting back into the boat. It was at this point that Hilton, one of the owners of The Whaler asked me, "Why didn't that husband of yours come on this dive?" I just about choked on my lollipop. Apparently in approximately 24 hours of seeing each other for the first time in ten years Scott and I were hitched.
"Not my husband."
"Oh, so your weekend shag?"
"We're friends from university." That ended the speculation and the conversation was steered towards what the heck am I doing living in Rwanda and not South Africa (Hilton is South African). By the time I was back everyone else was waking up from their afternoon snooze session and we wandered out into town. The boys went to buy prawns for dinner after they dropped the ladies and I at the craft kiosks. We may or may not have ridden on the runner board of the SUV and jumped off as the boys continued on their quest for food.
I woke up a little early on Easter morning so that I could battle my wetsuit. With plastic bags on my feet and I was able to slide into it a little easier than the day before. Scott had to help me remove the bags but not before taking some photo evidence of my 5:30 am struggle.
After a thorough dive briefing and plan we were off. I was more than a little nervous. I have never done a deep dive and here I was about to do my first in the ocean with sharks. Because after all, that's the entire purpose of doing a deep water dive, to see sharks. It was about a 30 minute boat ride out to the reef and before I knew it we were suiting up and Johnny, the skipper, gave the 1-2-3-Go! And I rolled off and descended. My dive buddy was Marlo, the dive master so I made sure to stick close to him. We had reached our second depth marker when I had calmed myself enough to look around and marvel at the amount of deep blue water above me.
That's when I also noticed one person at the surface and another still way above us. I glanced at the group. Scott and Barry weren't with us. I had to quickly force myself to not worry, which for anyone who knows me, is just about impossible. I worry and over think the dumbest things. But the thing with a deep dive is that you can't worry and you can't surface quickly, so reminding myself that they are both way more experienced divers than I am, I started to focus on what I was seeing as we approached 40 meters. It was a crazy sensation being down that deep. You keep looking down and forget how deep you are. There were some massive fish and a large sea turtle, but no sharks. I was a little disappointed. You can only spend 9 minutes at a depth of 40 meters and we stuck to the dive plan of only staying down there for five. Just as we were at our second safety stop on our way to surface a manta ray swam by and we all started to head back down a little to catch a better look.
I was keeping a close eye on my oxygen and realized that I shouldn't go any further back down, because I was hitting the low marker indicating I needed to surface. I notified Marlo I was at 50 bar and slowly started up the buoy line to do my final stop and then surface. Apparently, while I was just finishing my final stop and surfacing a hammerhead shark went by the group. I was extremely jealous that I missed it. But on our way back to land we had a couple of dolphins swim beside us briefly, which made up for the lack of shark slightly. Barry and Scott had both had equalizing issues to start, Scott was able to join us, but Barry missed out but was fine. Once back we were wiped. Craig and Theresa were up so we all had breakfast and then split to do our own things. I was done with diving and probably a little dehydrated so I went to take a nap. Our reed room was sweltering so I finally gave up and went out to the beach.
It was hot but the wind was so fabulous that it felt wonderful to be out there. I swam, read a little, and then went for a walk out to the point. As I was coming back Scott had emerged and we jumped back in the ocean for a bit. Barry and Robin came back from their dive and Craig and Theresa from snorkeling and we all headed into "town" for a late lunch. They took us to Fernando's Bar, which wasn't much more than a hole in the wall and we decided to munch on bread and garlic hot sauce and cook a big dinner.
After Fernando's we went to negotiate with the fisherman for some lobster or crayfish for supper. It took awhile, but finally Scott and Craig were happy with what they bought and leaving the rock lobster behind, we headed back to have a braai, or in other words, a barbecue.
"Not my husband."
"Oh, so your weekend shag?"
"We're friends from university." That ended the speculation and the conversation was steered towards what the heck am I doing living in Rwanda and not South Africa (Hilton is South African). By the time I was back everyone else was waking up from their afternoon snooze session and we wandered out into town. The boys went to buy prawns for dinner after they dropped the ladies and I at the craft kiosks. We may or may not have ridden on the runner board of the SUV and jumped off as the boys continued on their quest for food.
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| Craft Kiosks Photo Credit: Barry Tanner © |
The group consisted of six of us. Scott and I, Barry and Robyn, and Craig and Theresa. Barry and Robyn are two of Scott's best friends in Johannesburg. Had I attended Thanksgiving I would have met them there. Barry is a freelance photographer (Check out his website at http://barrytannerphotography.com), Robyn and Theresa are both physiotherapists, and I honestly have no idea what Craig does. We never got around to talking about it. Anyway, they were all awesome, sweet, lovely, and didn't mind that my delayed flight had held Barry and Robyn's scuba gear hostage a night. We had a really nice time together. Eventually, after bargaining for some pouffy pants made in Thailand the ladies and I found the boys at a local bar and joined them for the local "famous" drink, R&Rs. To me it tasted like cough syrup, but when in Rome, right? Actually, I waited until Easter Sunday to sample an R&R. After the boys attended dive planning and then disappeared to watch rugby, Robyn, Theresa and I wandered down the beach and shared some loaded chips before returning to find Scott cooking a fabulous meal for all of us. After feasting on prawns, chips, some Easter candy, and listening to Scott's Afrikaans while reading trivial pursuit questions, which required multiple translations at times for anyone to understand the question, we called it an early night so that we would be ready to go on our early morning dive Sunday.
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| The Ladies L to R: Robyn, Theresa, Me |
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| The Boys L to R: Craig, Scott, Barry |
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| Ten years after the last photo was taken of us... eek! |
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| Chef Scott cooked some fabulous prawns for dinner our first night in Ponta. |
That's when I also noticed one person at the surface and another still way above us. I glanced at the group. Scott and Barry weren't with us. I had to quickly force myself to not worry, which for anyone who knows me, is just about impossible. I worry and over think the dumbest things. But the thing with a deep dive is that you can't worry and you can't surface quickly, so reminding myself that they are both way more experienced divers than I am, I started to focus on what I was seeing as we approached 40 meters. It was a crazy sensation being down that deep. You keep looking down and forget how deep you are. There were some massive fish and a large sea turtle, but no sharks. I was a little disappointed. You can only spend 9 minutes at a depth of 40 meters and we stuck to the dive plan of only staying down there for five. Just as we were at our second safety stop on our way to surface a manta ray swam by and we all started to head back down a little to catch a better look.
I was keeping a close eye on my oxygen and realized that I shouldn't go any further back down, because I was hitting the low marker indicating I needed to surface. I notified Marlo I was at 50 bar and slowly started up the buoy line to do my final stop and then surface. Apparently, while I was just finishing my final stop and surfacing a hammerhead shark went by the group. I was extremely jealous that I missed it. But on our way back to land we had a couple of dolphins swim beside us briefly, which made up for the lack of shark slightly. Barry and Scott had both had equalizing issues to start, Scott was able to join us, but Barry missed out but was fine. Once back we were wiped. Craig and Theresa were up so we all had breakfast and then split to do our own things. I was done with diving and probably a little dehydrated so I went to take a nap. Our reed room was sweltering so I finally gave up and went out to the beach.
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| Ponta do Ouro, Mozambique |
After Fernando's we went to negotiate with the fisherman for some lobster or crayfish for supper. It took awhile, but finally Scott and Craig were happy with what they bought and leaving the rock lobster behind, we headed back to have a braai, or in other words, a barbecue.
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| Negoitiations Photo Credit: Barry Tanner © |
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| Rock Lobster Photo Credit: Barry Tanner © |
We all chowed down, had many a laugh, and eventually called it a night. It wasn't that late, but I felt as though it was 3 am when we finally hit the sack. I think it was actually closer to 10 or 11 pm but regardless, it was a great Easter Sunday.
We slept in, and by that I mean 6:30 am, Monday morning, fixed a great breakfast of leftover fillet sandwiches and then Scott and I hit the road. He had heard stories that it could take up to 10 hours to reach Maputo, the capital of Mozambique, and with the early morning rain, he wasn't going to chance it. Off we went in 4WD over sand, which eventually turned to mud and lots of it. At the end of the day, Scott's white SUV was a lovely shade of tan with at least 4 inches of mud caked on in certain places.
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| Road to Maputo Scott needed a cat nap, I needed a stroll. |
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| Hippo in the water!!! |
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| He was not photographing the hippo. Not quite as excited as I was. |
Maputo is a busy city and I was amazed at all sorts of things. For instance, traffic. When Scott scooped me up at the airport we drove immediately out of town and I didn't see Johannesburg at all. The airport is located on the east side of the city and we just kept heading east into the countryside. But Maputo... it's a real city and we were in the middle of it. It was a little overwhelming. Put me in the center of our insane bus station in Kigali and I'm fine. But put me in Maputo and I wanted to snatch Scott's hand and hold on for dear life as we walked a few blocks.
Fortunately, we didn't have to walk far. We hoppped in a tuk-tuk and headed for dinner. I was on a quest for Thai food because I had read that I could get good Thai food in Maputo. I was sold. Our driver was a little bit of a liar and had no idea where the restaurant was that we named, but eventually we found a Thai restaurant and he spoke to the waiters and arranged for them to call him when we were done dinner to pick us up.
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| My first ride in a tuk-tuk! |
After dinner we crashed. It's amazing how exhausting sitting in a car can be. I Facetimed my mom just to let her know that I was alive and well, got the latest Monkton scoop, ignored 99% of the whatsapps, emails, and texts I had received and crashed. The next morning we were headed back to South Africa for Part 2 of our adventure and we needed to rest up.
And as always, it's pointless to plan or get upset when things don't go your way because as soon as we left our hotel a little after 6 am we discovered that both side mirrors had been stolen.
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| One night in Maputo |
1) When flying through Nairobi it is best to have a minimum of a 2 hour layover to avoid missed connections.
2) Never underestimate an engineer.
3) Thank goodness for Garmin and third party Africa maps.
4) Remember your past, Live in the present, Hope for the future.
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| Market Ponta do Ouro, Mozambique Photo Credit: Barry Tanner © |
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