Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!*

On Friday, all of the mountain passes in the Eastern Cape were closed because of snowfalls.

After a 3-hour power cut on Friday and another one on Saturday morning (Eskom must have seen my previous post), we were ready to head for the hills...

En route via Maclear, we passed a familiar sight.  Wherever there is a river or stream, you will find people washing their vehicles.

As we headed further inland we encountered a herd of cows, with herder, out for an early morning jog

Spring is in the air!  Lots of little lambs frolicking in the fields - and on the road.

Good to see some corporate social responsibility.  Many power lines in the area are adorned with dingle-dangles like the one in the top right of the notice. We saw a field with about 20 Crowned Cranes later in the afternoon.  Awesome sight.  Unfortunately, by then the light was too bad to take a pic.

There are of plenty of pine plantations in the area.  Brilliant idea for otherwise unusable land.  Good to see some four-footed creatures other than sheep, goats, cows, donkeys and stray dogs.  These Mountain Reedbuck** stayed around for a while before rushing off, tails in the air

One of the advantages of driving in a mountainous area is that you can come eye to eye with a Jackal Buzzard**.  This one  doesn't look like he agrees with the sentiment though.

Oops.  We thought we would be driving on tar the whole way. Those horizontal gashes on the mountain?  That's the road.  The snow looks like an elaborate Danish pastry with icing sugar sprinkles.

We came across this little memorial a few kilometres from the top.  I'd love to know its history.

Made it!  Okay, it's not a very glamorous snowman. And his nose kept falling off.  But I made him, and he's mine.  Until he melts.

Off we go, down the other side of the mountain.  Who made these hundreds of kilometres of roads and why? How long did it take, who decided where they should be and who maintains them? 

 I must confess to doing a bit of yodelling while up here (much to the distress of Bob and the dogs [who were not impressed with the snow either])

When we reached Rhodes at the bottom of the mountain, we were famished.  It was 4pm, and all we wanted was tea and scones.  No luck anywhere.  No café, no restaurant, no service station. Nothing. Nada.  Rhodes is back in cotton wool after last month's Rhodes Run.  Makes me wonder how the village copes with 300 ravenous runners.

Loving this landscape!  The area around Rhodes is full of Weeping Willows**.  I haven't seen any Willows anywhere else, not even in gardens.  Come to think of it, when last did you see a Weeping Willow?

Some of the farms had fence posts made from dressed stone.  The mind boggles at the time and effort to create these. And why is good old wood not good enough?

When Bob and I go on an adventure, we do it Properly.  Including a puncture in the middle of nowhere. A white bakkie (that one in the distance) stopped to help us, but fortunately Bob had all the necessary bits in Hagrid (yes, we name our cars), so we survived.

A flock of sheep watched Bob change the tyre.  They were very vocal in their observation.  I had no idea sheep talked so much!  Some of the bleating  was quite comical, sounding much like a hearty burp after a good meal.

Ken*** (the GPS) had given up the ghost a few hours previously, as the fuse in the lighter socket had blown, and then the GPS battery went flat.  In true adventurer style, we hadn't brought a paper map backup, but eventually we reached Barkly East.  We got sustenance for the rest of the trip from a service station, and headed for home...

Charming.  Just what we need at dusk, with 90km to go.  We're still debating what is more dangerous in the dark - mobile livestock or stationary potholes.

Conclusion:  Even though an 'easy-peasy' 470km round trip turned into a 9-hour all day epic trek, we're still totally enamoured with the Eastern Cape - its people, its landscape, and everything that goes with it.

Except for the potholes.

* Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!

**If you disagree with my identification, please feel free to say so

***Ken - want hy weet alles

Nando's to the Rescue!

When power cuts are a regular reality, Nando's to the rescue.  (Circus Triangle is the name of a shopping centre in Mthatha)

Back to Book Club

Book Club is one of the highlights of my month, just as it was in Cape Town.  Not only do I get to chat to a wonderfully diverse group of women, eat great food that I didn't have to cook, and drink wine I didn't have to shop for - I also get to choose books that I haven't read, at a fraction of the price I would have had to pay for them.

It's like Christmas every month. I can't wait to savour my presents.

My choices for July were:

Queen Camilla (Sue Townsend of Adrian Mole fame). If you don't have an understanding of the English psyche, you probably won't enjoy this.  And even if you do, it becomes a bit much at times.

The Hundred-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out of the Window and Disappeared (Jonas Jonasson) What a fabulous book!  It's in the same mould as The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry, which I thoroughly enjoyed.  I see they've just released the movie.  I hope it does the book justice.

The Lacuna (Barbara Kingsolver)  Interesting, but rather long-winded.  An amusing coincidence is that there are historical similarities with 'The Hundred Year-Old Man...', but on very different levels.

Sycamore Row (John Grisham)  This was my favourite for the month.  Especially as I had the luxury of starting it at dawn, and finishing it before sunset on the same day. Just couldn't help myself.

On to August:

In the time since I joined this Book Club in June, three new members have joined, so I'm no longer a newbie. I think there are about 18 members now, which would normally be quite cumbersome. But, because of other commitments (aka Real Life), I still haven't met everybody. There have been about ten members at each meeting, which is ideal for getting a chance to chat to everyone.  I met one of the founding members this month (the club has been going since the 70s), for the first time.  She lives in Grahamstown (a 5-hour drive), but she tries to make a plan to come to book club in Mthatha each month.  How's that for commitment? (In Cape Town, one of our members used to go home to Paarl each month, and that was impressive enough!)

August book choice:

The Son (Jo Nesbo) I almost started hyperventilating when I saw this one.  Published in May this year, it's Brand New.  And it was another fabulous day-waster...accompanied by copious amounts of popcorn and Savanna while Bob was Doing Important Stuff in Pretoria.

The Little Old Lady Who Broke All the Rules (Catharina Ingelman-Sundberg) This genre seems to be the latest fad. I was really looking forward to this, but it is a pale imitation of  'The Hundred Year-Old Man...'.  Even though the story was amusing, I found the writing to be inconsistent and stilted in places.  I thought perhaps it was because of the translation, but Rod Bradbury also translated 'The Hundred Year-Old Man...', which was a very easy and enjoyable read. 

Talking of translations, I see that I have a definite leaning towards the Nordic.  Translations are becoming more popular, and it seems as if a whole new world is opening up for fiction readers.  Yippee!

The Secret Daughter (Shilpi Somaya Gowda) I'm usually hesitant to read Chick Lit, but this one went a long way towards changing my mind. Powerful stuff.

And finally, The Language of Flowers (Vanessa Diffenbaugh) More Chick Lit.  But I woke up at 03:00 this morning (Mthatha mozzies don't know it's winter) and started reading it.  I'm absolutely loving it - so refeshingly different, yet very real.

I'm hosting Book Club in November, and have no idea what books to buy.  Food is easy - Vegetarian and Banting (Yes, it's reached Mthatha).  The closest Exclusive Books is 220km away, and the ONLY bookshop in town is in a shopping centre I have been told that it's only safe to go into with an armed chaperone (Bob's got arms, two in fact - so we're going there on Sunday morning). 

But...I'm lucky enough to be visiting Cape Town next month, so would be most grateful for any book ideas.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm being called by my book - I really need to find out more about The Language of Flowers.

Did you got a licence?

My driver's licence came up for renewal last week. 

To avoid queues, several people advised me to go to one of the traffic departments in one of the outlying areas.  But I wanted to experience what the majority of Mthatians go through, and went to the main traffic department with a friend who could help me with language and procedures.

The traffic department overlooks Mthatha.  In the foreground is the area where learner drivers take their tests.  Just beyond the fence you can see a large area of burned grass - a sight I am now getting used to.

We arrived at 08:00 and there were already over 60 people ahead of us in the queue. I had done my homework and brought a copy of my ID with me, but not a copy of my driver's licence. No problem. There was a man in a container offering all the necessary services - so I had my photos taken (grim, as expected), and made a copy of my licence.  I didn't have the exact change though.  No problem.  Moses, in the queue behind me, was willing to help out.

In the middle of the pic is a building site - a brand new shopping centre which will have a Woolies and lots of other fabulous chainstores.  I hope the access road gets upgraded too - if you're not avoiding potholes, you're looking out for killer speedbumps.

The queueing process was very orderly, and everyone was patient and understanding. It was rather fluid though - people got up and came back half an hour later, and their seats had been kept for them.  Sometimes people left and didn't come back at all.  Very little was said, and I'm still trying to work out if there was an elaborate signal sytem that I wasn't aware of.

By 11:00 it was all done and dusted (fingerprints taken electronically - no messy black ink).  But after three hours in the queue, my bladder was protesting, so I thought I'd see if the toilets were usable.

Mistake.

The first toilet had no lock on the door, no seat, no toilet paper, no cistern lid and no water in the cistern. Decided to give that one a miss.

The second door was locked

Let's see what's behind door number three.

The door was slightly ajar, but there seemed to be something in the way of opening the door fully...

Ah.  Now I see why I can't open the door.

I looked behind me to see if there were any other doors, and yes, there was another cubicle.

 However, it too, seemed to have been turned into an impromptu filing room.

There seemed no other lavatorial alternative, so I grit my teeth and left for home.  Quickly.

Hello Grahamstown!

This time last month, I had just returned from a magical week at the National Arts Festival.  I filled my fill of whatever needed filling - 30 shows in 6 days.  (Seeing as there is no cinema in Mthatha, let alone a theatre, I had to overdose on all things theatrical*).

I had the pleasure of staying with family:

On arriving 'home' after my first day of theatre (seven shows)  I was met with this on my bed:  fresh towels, flowers from the garden, a Festival Programme, and best of all - the electric blanket had been switched on - essential in Grahamstown.  How precious!

Some of you know that I am a War Horse groupie, and would give my left hoof to meet Joey in person. He visited us on the Drostdy Lawns and kids were given a chance to 'feed' Joey.  A few lucky ones even managed to hitch a ride.

Joey spent about half an hour on the Drostdy Lawns, to the delight of children and adults alike.

I spent quite a bit of time (and money) at the Village Green Market (The Hare Krishna chickpea fudge is to die for, doll).  I enjoyed the variety and quirkiness of the stalls, but was very aware of the claim that the Village Green is 'The Rich Man's Market'.  There was very little evidence of local traders.  I had to trek to the other end of town so see their wares, and was disappointed by the mass-produced, cheap imports that were on sale, much like many other markets around the country.

If you wished, you could hitch a ride to your next venue on a donkey cart, in style

It was awesome seeing friends from all over the country in Grahamstown - on stage, in the audience or over a rushed cup of coffee.  It was especially special reuniting with Robert, whom I haven't seen for a decade or two. It was also wonderful to meet his gorgeous daughter, who has a passion for all things theatrical, but is leaning towards the film industry. 

Who, you may ask, is Robert...?

...well, this is a pic of Robert (on my right) and me as part of the cast of The Fantasticks - the 1982 HHH production.  Robert and I played the leads (Yes, people paid to hear me sing).  Those of us in the show who are still in touch, have very happy memories of the show.  (I think I had a bit of a crush on the teacher, but can't really remember now.)

No trip to Festival is complete without a visit to the Monument.  While I was there, there was a performance in the arena, and the sound of traditional music resounded throughout the building.

Also at the Monument was an exhibition of some of Handspring Puppet Company's work.  The versatility, imagination and talent was mind-boggling.

Topthorn dominates the entrance to the Handspring Puppet Company exhibition.  Look here for some fabulous pics from the production.  Go and see it if you can, the tickets are well worth the price.  Take tissues.

There are several of these mime artists outside the Monument.  If you put a coin in the box, he will dance for you for a few seconds, much like a wind-up doll.  There are a couple of kids in Mthatha who do this sort of performance art at robots.  Unfortunately, word has it that they use the proceeds to feed their Tik habits.

What a perfect way to end a week of theatre - sitting on the floor in a school hall surrounded by kids laughing at The Wacky Wizard.  And I even know how he did some of the tricks!

So, until next year, back into the theatrical cotton wool I go...

*Performances and talks I attended:

Another Day

Are You Kidding?

Bench

Big Boys II

Big Girls

Burning The Floor

Dirty Words

Going Gooding

HeLa

Hovering

I Came, I Taught, I Left

Illusive

Lake

Memory

More Oom Schalk Stories

Real Meal Revolution – Book Launch

Salt

Same Time Next Year

The Belgian

The Epicene Butcher

The God Complex

The Snow Goose

The Things You Left Behind

The Three Little Pigs

Undone

Undermined

WhatWhat

White Guilt

You Bet Your Life

Wacky Wizard Comedy Magic Show

What a Load of Bull

A few Saturdays ago, Bob and I were pottering around the house and garden (as one does), and he called out to me:  "Hunnee, they're back!"  I looked out of the window and saw nobody.  "Look in the road!"  he yelled.

And there they were.  This bull had obviously spread the word about our luscious grazing, and brought his whole family along (which takes Spur Family Meal to a whole new level).

Yes, a HERD of cows grazing in our road.  At least three are in hidden in the long grass. The dogs were not sure how to respond.

Each family member brought a feathered friend along

I haven't mentioned yet that our landlord subdivided his property before we moved in, and is building accommodation for travellers in what was his back yard.  Building started about a week ago, and I'm sure it will provide much blog material in the months to come.  But I digress...

The old buildings have been demolished and the site is being cleared for construction

As I returned home from renewing my drivers' licence today (more about that, later), the cows were back in our road, perhaps not realising that blackened grass  is neither tasty nor nutritious.  However, our garden is looking rather lush, and I had a Eureka moment which I thought was a win-win situation.

I asked some of the builders from next door to herd a cow or two into my garden.  They thought this was a
 delightful diversion and tackled the project with gusto, but not much success.




We managed to 'encourage' one cow into the garden, but without her mates around, she got stage fright, and lost her appetite.

Then she caught sight of the pool, and this was the final straw - she left.



There was much merriment among the builders as they worked out that if we got MORE cattle into the garden, they'd be more likely to graze.  But I decided to call it a day, as the thought of fishing a cow out of the pool was not too appealing.

So the builders went back to work, laughing and chatting - probably dying to tell their wives about this mad umlungu next door.  The last I heard before I went inside was, "Nee man, daai koei is useless.  Hy wil fokkol eet."*



* No man, that cow is useless, he wants to eat F-all

Twitching

It would be an exaggeration to call myself a twitcher, but I do appreciate birds, and admit to getting overly excited when I spot a lifer.  I also enjoy attracting birds to my garden, but have been disappointed in Mthatha, as the golf course over the road provides ample food for the local birds.  As this is a summer rainfall region, I've discovered that the best way to attract birds is to make sure that the birdbath is full.

Here is a selection of birds I've seen in and around the garden in the last three months:

The hadeda is everywhere.  The noise as they head home at sunset can only be described as raucous.  Not a pretty sound.

The mousebird is one of my favourites, with its clumsy landings and 'Hey, what's going on?' approach to life - not first in the queue for common sense.

The mousebirds often visit in large groups.  When I mentioned my fondness for this Village Idiot of birds to a local, he told me that he shoots about ten a day, as they destroy many crops, including the green tops of carrot plants (I've seen what they can do to a fern).  The problem with shooting them, he says, is that the next day, fifty of them turn up for the funeral.

Leaving the door open can attract curious visitors

...and their partners.  Good thing the dogs are deaf, or there could have been carnage

This Collared Barbet was a lifer for me. 

And because he's so pretty, you get another pic of him

The trouble with Cattle Egrets is that they tend to attract cattle.  Which can be a problem when they settle down outside your driveway, and you're a city girl who's not used to this sort of thing yet.

These tick birds looked like something out of a Disney movie, about to launch into a dance routine

An egret contemplating a dip in the pool.  Yes, it's still green (to match the steps, of course)

I think this chap is another reason why I am experiencing an avian stayaway.  The Butcher Bird is really a feisty fellow, and when he's in the mood for a bath, no-one else comes near. Since I took this photo, this tree was severely damaged by the fire.  Let's hope it survives.

At last!  I lowered the feeders, and that seems to have worked.  I am now working on getting the local birds addicted to sugar water and peanut butter.  Bulbuls, barbets, and white eyes have sampled my fare.  I have seen robins, thrushes, weavers, tinker barbets, and the usual assortment of pigeons and doves in the garden.

I was so excited when I let the dogs out for their morning ablutions last week and saw this 'owl' sitting on the tree stumps over the road.  Only when I got the camera with its zoom lens did I realise that I seriously need to upgrade my specs.

Okay, this isn't strictly a bird.  But I really enjoyed this description on the menu of one of the better restaurants in Mthatha. If the chicken had been marinated in white wine instead of green Thai curry, 'legless' could have taken on a whole new meaning.