Dubious Durban

We woke up in St. Lucia knowing that there was more to see in Durban, so we headed out early, hoping to beat the Women's Day holiday traffic and see a little of the city before meeting up with Toukam's childhood friend from Camaroon, Patrick. On the road, we found ourselves yet again on an extortionist toll road, made acceptable by the fast speed at which we could drive on it. It was only about 250km to Durban, which meant about a 2.5 hour drive.

The guidebook that we had mentioned a sunday flea market that promised to wow us with its smorgasbord of local items, so we made our way to the sketchy and dirty city center, where we parked Aslan and set out on foot to the Durban exhibition center. It was only after a couple circuitous reroutes that Toukam and I found the flea market, which sprawled across the city center. The guidebook was indeed correct about the large amount of goods, but misled us about their diversity and quality. Unfortunately, it was all the same stuff we had seen sold at tourist shacks across the country. There was one delicious exception, though, and those were the freshly made Indian Samoosa's that we had for breakfast.

The Fleamarket

Still having a couple hours to spend before our rendezvous with Patrick, we walked to the beach which, though touted as a mugger's paradise, was pleasant enough and provided a distinct mark of progress when compared with the landlocked beginnings of our dual adventure. We relieved ourselves with some cool ice cream and talked about the large group of uniformed Methodist women, who had been singing gospel songs in front of the city hall in remembrance of Women's Day. Women's Day in South Africa memorializes a day in the 50's (?) when a huge group of women, both black and white, marched against the government, which had proposed making all women carry passes in order to move around the country. They were successful in the effort, and women around the country celebrate the victory each year.

The Beach

Toukam and I were starting to get nervous about the dubious surroundings of Durban's city center, so we quickly took some photos of a famous mosque and cathedral (separate buildings) and drove northwards to the Berea, a more upscale suburb and the home of Patrick. After unsuccessfully searching for an internet cafe in a mall, we drove to a nearby park and had a pleasant lunch on the grass, and I even snuck in a quick nap. Soon, though, it was time to head to Patrick's place.

As I mentioned, he lives in the Berea in a tall apartment building that proved to be quite stringent in its visitor policy. Right after we parked Patrick, a stout and taciturn Camaroonian, came out to greet us and I witnessed yet another longtime reunion between Toukam and one of his friends. He helped us with our bags and took us up to his third floor apartment, which had a good amount of windows. After getting comfortable, Patrick served us wine, cookies, and cake while catching up with Toukam and keeping the TV blaring the latest episode of Australian "Biggest Loser." We learned that he is a civil engineer and likes living in Durban, despite its grime.

By the time we had finished our homemade snacks, the door to the previously shut bedroom, which had been blasting music for the previous 30 minutes, opened and out came mPome, Patrick's live-in girlfriend. She greeted both of us with bubbling affection, embracing us warmly and allowing her facial expressions to fully convey her excitement at everything we said. Her eyes popped at the description of our past route across the country. Her mouth dropped, agape, at our descriptions of Kruger. Her shrieks of delight accompanied our tales of transnational drives. In short, she was a master of theater. Such lively responses were punctuated only by Patrick's shushing at intervals.

After some brief discussion about what to do that evening, mPome decided on the Box Bar, a hip and contemporary place up the coast about half an hour. Along the way, we listened to the beautiful music of Adele and got to know each-other more. At the bar, which featured two white guys playing Bob Marley and Johnny Cash covers, we had some delicious food and listened to mPome's dubious Zulu dating advice, which included admonitions to "experiment" around with other girls while dating one, as long as you don't get caught. Taking such wisdom with a grain of salt, we left the restaurant and Patrick brought us to a mall where we made some phone calls and saw the latest Harry Potter film, which didn't disappoint too much. By then it was late and we went back to the apartment, where I slept on a very comfortable futon.

Patrick

It was yet another early morning when we left Durban, getting back on the same toll road and heading south along the coast. Passing beach after beach, we couldn't resist pulling off and exploring one, which proved to be a nice diversion. Among the tidal fisherman and bold morning swimmers, we glimpsed yet another area where South Africa proves to be incredibly beautiful. Such relaxing settings must have had a powerful effect on us, because we soon found ourselves off course after missing a turnoff. It was relitively easy to fix, and we took a shortcut that brought us through a bunch of little villages and gave Aslan yet another workout. All was well, though, when we got back on the N2 after about half an hour.

The Stop on the Way

The rest of the day was made up of an excruciatingly long drive that took us up and down hills and through more villages. We had a brief roadside lunch and eventually, as the sun was going down, got into East London. It was a brief search before we got to the Sugar Shack, our accommodation for the night. It turned out to be a wonderful place- it was on the beach and nearly empty, so Toukam and I got to enjoy amazing views of the water and listen to the waves as we slept. We suffered yet another unsuccessful search for an internet cafe and comforted ourselves with some large grilled subs. The rest of the evening was fairly low key, and I got a little closer to the end of Karamazov.

The View from Sugar Shack

Sugar Shack