Finally out of Namibia. Daniel and I planned to head down to Cape Town, South Africa early in the week by bus. At the hostel we met Carly, a Canadian from Vancouver, who was driving down to Cape town as well and offered us a ride. Or at least we suggested the idea of having us for company in her car.
We left on Friday morning making it through more desert with dry and long straight roads. It took us almost 8 hours to reach the border into South Africa.
At the border we stopped to go through customs. We parked our car and then proceeded to the numbered doors. Behind door number one was immigration. Door number two, customs. And finally, door number three, police. Behind the third door, numbered with a big red number 3, the police asked us who the driver was. Unsure if it was a serious question we hesitated as both Daniel and Carly were drivers. I had the luck of leaving my driver's license in Tanzania giving me the privilege of sleeping in the backseat. The police told us that whoever was driving should check the note on the driver side door. What did they leave for us? I tried making a joke out of it by asking if our car was too dirty to cross the border. Carly has a black car and after eight hours it had turned a brownish tan.
We walked back to the car and looked for the note left for us. No piece of paper, but on the hood of the car in big finger cursive the words, "Please wash me!" were traced into the dirt. Through the window of the police station I could see the officers laughing and we laughed back. Imagine crossing into the U.S.A. with a good laugh!
That evening we were told to visit Fiddler's Creek just into South Africa. A tour guide from Windhoek had suggested it to us. Twenty minutes down a dirt road and through farmer's field we found the campsite and Orange River, one of the longest in Africa. These are the kinds of places you wouldn't find unless someone pointed you in the right direction.
Fiddler's Creek is mainly an overlander campsite, but the season is slow now and there were only two trucks there. Daniel even bumped into a tour guide he met in Swaziland.
We arrived just before sunset without food or a tent. We asked for any leftover dinner, which they generously offered us. Before dinner we went for a quick dip in the river. Nice and warm.
Without a tent we grabbed our sleeping bags, found a lush soft spot of grass and camped out under the stars. The resident dog curled up next to Daniel.
The next morning we headed down to Cape Town. The landscape changes from dry land to mountainous rock spotted with wineries and citrus trees thanks to the river flowing through the valley.
After 6 speedy hours we made it to Cape Town with Table Mountain setting an impressive background.
With penguins, mountains and great white sharks....when will I leave?
We left on Friday morning making it through more desert with dry and long straight roads. It took us almost 8 hours to reach the border into South Africa.
At the border we stopped to go through customs. We parked our car and then proceeded to the numbered doors. Behind door number one was immigration. Door number two, customs. And finally, door number three, police. Behind the third door, numbered with a big red number 3, the police asked us who the driver was. Unsure if it was a serious question we hesitated as both Daniel and Carly were drivers. I had the luck of leaving my driver's license in Tanzania giving me the privilege of sleeping in the backseat. The police told us that whoever was driving should check the note on the driver side door. What did they leave for us? I tried making a joke out of it by asking if our car was too dirty to cross the border. Carly has a black car and after eight hours it had turned a brownish tan.
We walked back to the car and looked for the note left for us. No piece of paper, but on the hood of the car in big finger cursive the words, "Please wash me!" were traced into the dirt. Through the window of the police station I could see the officers laughing and we laughed back. Imagine crossing into the U.S.A. with a good laugh!
That evening we were told to visit Fiddler's Creek just into South Africa. A tour guide from Windhoek had suggested it to us. Twenty minutes down a dirt road and through farmer's field we found the campsite and Orange River, one of the longest in Africa. These are the kinds of places you wouldn't find unless someone pointed you in the right direction.
Fiddler's Creek is mainly an overlander campsite, but the season is slow now and there were only two trucks there. Daniel even bumped into a tour guide he met in Swaziland.
We arrived just before sunset without food or a tent. We asked for any leftover dinner, which they generously offered us. Before dinner we went for a quick dip in the river. Nice and warm.Without a tent we grabbed our sleeping bags, found a lush soft spot of grass and camped out under the stars. The resident dog curled up next to Daniel.
The next morning we headed down to Cape Town. The landscape changes from dry land to mountainous rock spotted with wineries and citrus trees thanks to the river flowing through the valley.
After 6 speedy hours we made it to Cape Town with Table Mountain setting an impressive background.
With penguins, mountains and great white sharks....when will I leave?
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