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JoBurg
Johannesburg, South Africa
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JoBurg
Johannesburg, South Africa
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From the forests of Uganda to the savannas of Tanzania, nothing has posed more of a challenge then what lay before me now…the concrete jungle! A cement vortex of humanity where the only things wild and unpredictable are traffic and crime. Welcome to the sprawling metropolitan of Johannesburg, South Africa.
Loathing most cities I visit, Johannesburg was not a planned stop. An unexpected detour on a 2-week long Busse Family vacation through Botswana and Zimbabwe. Nonetheless, here we were, rolling with the punches and determined to make the most of our time in JoBurg.
First item to overcome, or better yet, give into…luxury. After months of rock hard mattresses, chilly showers, subpar internet and limited privacy, I found the adjustment to, “western living", all too easy. Relishing comforts like never before, I indulged in steamy, 20-minute long showers, soaked in the AC from beneath a big fluffy duvet, brain drained with a few late night movies and gorged myself on more then a few, "free", hotel breakfasts. Bacon, eggs, cereal, toasts and real (not instant) coffee! Somebody pinch me. Surely something so grand would cost my budget conscious, backpacking family heaps of coin. Nope. The benefits of traveling in groups paid off once again. Splitting room costs 4 ways lessened the overall blow and only cost each of us 10 bucks more then we would have paid for an overpriced 8-bed dormitory. Again I say, it pays to travel in groups. |
Second city obstacle, crime. Considered one of Africa's most dangerous cities, JoBurg is notorious for theft and violence. Tourists are heavily advised to stay inside after dark and if you must travel at night, always take a registered cab or premium coach. There are also an array of neighborhoods, districts, and slums which tourists (and locals alike) should stay well clear of. Yay, yah, I thought. I’ve backpacked alone through 8 African countries and never once encountered a dodgy situation. That was, until landing in Johannesburg's, O.R. Tambo International Airport.
Bumping between hoards of other eager arrivals, my family and I made our way from baggage claim to the arrivals lounge. First order of business we thought, money. Onto yet another currency, the South African rand, we located a wall of a half-dozen or so ATM's. Dad attempted one machine, while I tried another, but both our cards were declined. "Exceeded daily limit", the machine replied. 200 USD is hardly exceeding our limit, we thought, but that's at home. South Africa must have their reasons for small withdrawals…like theft. Little did we know, while punching our pins into the machine, a passerby was punching them into his memory.
Approaching a different ATM, we tried one more time for a larger withdrawal. "Denied". Dad, who had been standing directly over my shoulder the entire time (bless him and his paternal security system), and I conversed about withdrawal amounts while our sneaky friend moved in. Kindly approaching from behind, he offered to help. Pulling us in with his suave demeanor, I didn't realize he was reaching for my ATM card. In one fluid movement he plucked the card from my hand and promoted his cause, "You must insert the card a different way. These machines are tricky.” Dad, Alicia and I all gave him the benefit of the doubt. Surely he wouldn't try anything funny with three of us adamantly watching. Switching my card from his empty left hand to his busy right hand, the thief appeared to insert my card from below a mountain of outstretched bills. Using the colorful bills to camouflage the theft below, I realized the only thing "tricky", was him! He never put the card in at all. Planning to scamper away with card in hand and pin in head, he confidently stated, "Just wait one moment for the card to read. Then it will work. Have a nice day." Good try a**hole! Seizing his slimy wrist, I grasped tighter then a cobra around prey and flipped his hand over. There she was. Wells Fargo plastic, resting vulnerably below the bills.
Snatching my card back I yelped, "Get away!" But he was already off. Disappearing into the crowd as quickly as he arrived. It wasn’t until a few moments later that we realized the gravity of our situation. Why didn't I yell police? Kick him in the gut? Chase after him? Why, because I was so dumbfounded by the situation, I could hardly breathe, let alone think. I was in the safest environment possible. A heavily guarded airport with my Dad and sister standing within a foot of me yet we fell prey to a robber . Even Dad and Alicia, who saw him tottering closely behind, offered him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was just waiting to use the ATM. Maybe he did wear shaded aviator glasses and an oversized glitzy coat because he loved Michael Jackson. And maybe he was just trying to, see what our ATM problem was in order to “help”. Lesson learned, never give anyone the benefit of the doubt.
Bumping between hoards of other eager arrivals, my family and I made our way from baggage claim to the arrivals lounge. First order of business we thought, money. Onto yet another currency, the South African rand, we located a wall of a half-dozen or so ATM's. Dad attempted one machine, while I tried another, but both our cards were declined. "Exceeded daily limit", the machine replied. 200 USD is hardly exceeding our limit, we thought, but that's at home. South Africa must have their reasons for small withdrawals…like theft. Little did we know, while punching our pins into the machine, a passerby was punching them into his memory.
Approaching a different ATM, we tried one more time for a larger withdrawal. "Denied". Dad, who had been standing directly over my shoulder the entire time (bless him and his paternal security system), and I conversed about withdrawal amounts while our sneaky friend moved in. Kindly approaching from behind, he offered to help. Pulling us in with his suave demeanor, I didn't realize he was reaching for my ATM card. In one fluid movement he plucked the card from my hand and promoted his cause, "You must insert the card a different way. These machines are tricky.” Dad, Alicia and I all gave him the benefit of the doubt. Surely he wouldn't try anything funny with three of us adamantly watching. Switching my card from his empty left hand to his busy right hand, the thief appeared to insert my card from below a mountain of outstretched bills. Using the colorful bills to camouflage the theft below, I realized the only thing "tricky", was him! He never put the card in at all. Planning to scamper away with card in hand and pin in head, he confidently stated, "Just wait one moment for the card to read. Then it will work. Have a nice day." Good try a**hole! Seizing his slimy wrist, I grasped tighter then a cobra around prey and flipped his hand over. There she was. Wells Fargo plastic, resting vulnerably below the bills.
Snatching my card back I yelped, "Get away!" But he was already off. Disappearing into the crowd as quickly as he arrived. It wasn’t until a few moments later that we realized the gravity of our situation. Why didn't I yell police? Kick him in the gut? Chase after him? Why, because I was so dumbfounded by the situation, I could hardly breathe, let alone think. I was in the safest environment possible. A heavily guarded airport with my Dad and sister standing within a foot of me yet we fell prey to a robber . Even Dad and Alicia, who saw him tottering closely behind, offered him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was just waiting to use the ATM. Maybe he did wear shaded aviator glasses and an oversized glitzy coat because he loved Michael Jackson. And maybe he was just trying to, see what our ATM problem was in order to “help”. Lesson learned, never give anyone the benefit of the doubt.
Joburg's final big city challenge, what to do? Johannesburg is MASSIVE! Home to 8 million people, a simple jaunt across town could take hours. And that's if you are one of the privileged to have a car. This is where organized tour companies thrive. Operators know tourists want to capitalize on their time and budget, offering an array of day tours, museum visits, and safaris. They also include pick up and drop off services at your particular accommodation, saving the hassle of organizing separate cabs, buses or train rides. Customarily, I would only book such tours with a cheap hostel but, as my research yielded, JoBurg tour prices don’t fluctuate much. Backpackers, guesthouse or hotel, you’re always paying a fare chunk.
Our family activities first included a day tour of Pretoria (South Africa’s capital city), complete with a visit to Paul Kruger's House and the popular Voortrekker Museum. |
Paying a small fortune for this day long, private guided tour, we expected the best! Our guide, however, was not capable of anything close. New to the company, he was genial, but his knowledge base lacked severely. Commentary…what commentary? Government buildings, statues, and town squares all clumped together into a hodgepodge of undistinguishable tour drive-bys.
Accepting the driver for what he was, terrible, our family focused on the knowledge we could find at our museum stops. The first of which, the Kruger House, not even on the original itinerary. Listed in the day schedule as a drive by with commentary, we flexed our, "private tour", authority and demanded a stop. |
This original 1800's home, has been preserved as a museum and memorial to the life and works of Paul Kruger, President of the old Zuid-Afrikaansche Republiek (ZAR). An iconic figure in South Africa's history, Kruger led a mass migration of Dutch settlers, boers, away from Cape Towns overbearing British Rule and into South Africa's wild interior. The museum is a memorial to him and his life’s work along with his family. A loving wife and 10 surviving children. One of my favorite parts of the museum, was a document drafted just before Kruger's death. Calling for freedom without force and a unified South Africa.
Armed with a new understanding and appreciation for Mr. Kruger, our days final stop would shed even more light onto South Africa's pilgrim past. The Voortrekker Monument, a tall, rectangular building sitting high atop the hills of Pretoria, houses over 3 floors of Voortrekker history.
The Voortrekkers (literally translated as, “those who pull ahead”), were comprised of Dutch immigrants living in the British ruled Cape Town area. In the 1830’s and 1840’s, the Voortrekkers moved inland, in what is now known as The Great Trek, to seek land and freedom from British rule. They’re focus was freedom without fighting and they only wanted to live in peace with whomever they encountered inland. The Zulu, however, had other ideas. If the Voortrekkers wanted to move further inland, they would need to fight. One such battle, the Battle of Blood River, is remembered as one of the greatest and bloodiest fightest in South Africa's history. Another must see JoBurg museum exposes the origins of more then just South Africa but the entire world! The Cradle of Humankind, Maropeng, is a world heritage site and widely recognized as the birthplace of humankind. In essence, this 47,000 hectare site, is one gigantic archaeological dig, unearthing evidence of our species from almost 4 million years ago. Maropengs, Sterkfontein Caves, are probably the most well known dig site for archeologists. Discovering a famous pre-human skull known as, "Mrs Ples" (2.3 million years old), and an almost complete hominid skeleton known as, "Little Foot" (4.1 million years ago). The museum itself takes you back to these times long ago, portraying the evolution and migration patterns of the human species through a series of interactive exhibits. Geeky as ever, we were blown away by this museum and only wish we had more time there. |
Our final tour, the Lesedi Villages, was by far the most colorful and commercialized. You know, tour buses, old folks with name tags and umbrella carrying tour guides. But if you can get past the exploitation, there is a lot to be learned. The Lesedi Villages are a combination of 5 traditional tribal homesteads. Highlighting Zulu, Xhosa, Pedi, Basotho and Ndebele tribes, visitors are guided through each miniature village and taught about their diverse cultures and traditions. A handful of local families permanently live in these homesteads and invite visitors to stay in their homes for an evening. Thatched roofs, mud walls, and dung floors contrasted by the colorful tribespeople milling about within. But to truly learn about South Africa's tribal past and present, we needed music and DANCE! Where the character and heart of South Africa lives!! |
Performing a Giant Ingoma boma, all five villages displayed their traditional dance styles to a rhythmically beating drum. The Pedi women, scantily covered in multi-colored beads and short skirts, swayed and gyrated in a sensual rain dance while the Zulu men danced of war. Reenacting the struggles of battle with heavy steps, loud claps, giant leaps and painful looking falls. Each dance was unique and kept our hearts pounding! Then, all the tribes combined into a finale performance. The star, Us! Bumping, kicking, and jumping we danced to our own tribal beat. Staring across the fire, I saw my Mom and Dad link hands with a Zulu warrior and an extra large Xhosa women. Laughing with one another, they gave into the moment and let the dancers whisk them away! Their smiles and joy in that moment made our time in Johannesburg that much more memorable.
The village tour concluded with a boma, "dinner". This buffet style dinner had all the basics, salads, potatoes, veggies but the diversity came with proteins. Ostrich, crocodile, and South African favorites like biltong (salty, dried meat) and boereworst (a sausage of minced meat and spices; coriander, nutmeg and clove.) A delicious ending to a delicious day.
Our last few days in Johannesburg, were spent exploring the suburb of Melville. A hip and trendy area full of young partiers, thrifty antique shoppers and fine diners. It is one of the safer JoBurg neighbors despite what the high security walls and barbed wire fences might have you think (a quintessential for any JoBurg homeowner) Frolicking through the well maintained neighborhood, my moms Melville highlight was a beautiful, one of a kind, antique vase while my Dad and I's, involved a tee time. A spendy round of golf at a nearby course. Rolling my eyes at the overpriced caddies, "Madam, you need help carrying your bag. You need a strong man," we stepped to the first tee. The first, and only tee, to be marked. We spent most of our round trying to find the next hole because A. We refused to pay for a scorecard and B. The tee's weren't marked. As we later found out, the gold plated hole markers had been stolen by local thieves. A fitting ending to Johannesburg I'd say.
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