Swakopmund - Round One

I arrived in Swakopmund last Tuesday and since then have been indulging in what feels like a real holiday.  I stayed two nights in a hostel and am now staying at an Airbnb belonging to the hostel owner, Betsy.

The hostel was fun on the first night as a family of Bostwanans arrived and left their teenage girls in charge of cooking.  They taught me to make pap.

And then some Italians rocked up and cooked pasta (each nationality confirming to expected norms re: diet).

It's been a quiet few days.  I haven't been up to much - I take myself out for brunch occasionally, potter around tourist shops, have a wine out and read.

So far I have read 6 books since I've been in Africa, more than I read in the whole of the Autumn and very unlike me.


Swakopmund is small and relatively safe (for a me).  I've wandered down to see the sea most days, strolled along the beach and paddled.





Geo truck!

I've discovered a wool shop owned by a lovely lady, Amanda, who has offered me coffee and a chat if I want to pop in and crochet there one day.

I'm still not really meeting people.  However on my return from the coast today I walked into Betsy's kitchen to make a cup of tea and was invited to join her, her son Wilhelm (14) and Nichol (new to me) for lunch/supper - it was 1530, we couldn't decide what meal to call it.  Anyway, it was lovely.  Nice to eat with people. Most of the time I cook/dine alone. I'm not out in the evenings here as there seems no point eating out alone, and I'd have to get a cab there/back for my security which is a phaff.

I may explore the aquarium tomorrow.  It looks small but sweet and even as a foreigner it's ~£2 entry.    And on Monday I have a 'living desert' tour planned which is a holiday treat.  And it'll be good to meet some new faces. This is the desert view from just outside Betsy's house ;-)

Windhoek

I landed in Windhoek on Friday 29 Dec and leave tomorrow.  I'm staying at the delightful Rivendell Hostel  which is secure and small.  It is easy to self cater and I have a single ensuite room which suits me fine.

I have a friend here, Sari, who I met in July and I've visited her and her family twice since then.  We kept in touch and it was her idea that I holiday in Namibia.  I couldn't stay with her but that suited me fine as I'm near enough the city to be able to come and go during daylight hours.  However Sari not only scooped me up Friday night for supper with their family, but Saturday and Sunday too which is beyond the call of duty!

Windhoek

On Saturday I took a short walking tour around the city centre. On it too were a German couple, two Finnish women and myself. I learnt more about the history of Namibia and new facts such as its close links to North Korea due to its uranium deposits.

We started in Zoo Park which used to hold animals but is now only a landscaped water park, without the water. There is also a German war memorial but, as you can imagine, the Germans don't fare too well in the telling of the recent (last 100 years or so) of Namibia history. [I noted the Germans didn't give our guide a tip].  We then strolled up to the Lutherian Church, the oldest in Namibia.


We headed up to the Parliament and learnt that over 40% of Namibian parlimentarians are female. Our guide (male) kept telling us that was because women are more intelligent but I think he was only sucking up to the women to get a greater tip.

Parliament Gardens.

We walked to the Namibian Independence Museum which I left to visit on Sunday.

Memorial highlighting the struggle for independence from the South Africans.



I am getting used to Namibia again.  Used to when people knock foodstuffs onto the floor in a supermarket they don't think about picking it up but move off.  People who leave some of their food by the till as they realise they don't want it/can't afford it. People who just put the shopping basket down on the floor and walk off, rather than finding the stack of others.

I'm also getting used to oddities such as the Tourist Information being closed at the weekends (if anything the opposite to the UK) and quite a few cafes here are closed for the summer.  The museum, which was due to close at 1300 on Sunday, closed at 1030 (lack of customers?) just as I turned up.  What can you do?

As a solo female traveller I know I stick out.  As Watze, Sari's husband pointed out, I stand out like a tourist a mile off.  It's not necessarily because I'm white, but because of the way I walk: I stop and look, ponder, linger past tourist shops - not what locals do - and that makes me a target.  I had my first taste on Friday.  I was walking past a group of guys when I felt my rucksack being tugged at.  I span around and he put both his hands in the air showing me they were empty.  "What are you doing?" I shouted. Someone stopped their car to see if I was OK.  Yes I was fine as I never leave my important stuff easily accessible, esp when I'm abroad.  He had unzipped a pocket that had my business cards and railcard in (that would have been a tad annoying if it had gone) but my keys, camera and wallet are always buried right down inside my main rucksack compartment.  I also never take all my cash or cards or, indeed passport, out with me, only what I need for that day.  It could happen to anyone.

Sari's Family

On Friday I went to Sari's house just as my niggling cough started to turn into something grown up and throaty. It didn't stop me from hopping in the pool with the rest of the family which was refreshing in the whacking heat of the afternoon.


Tess had an ex-ball that she would nudge into the pool and you would throw it back for her to fetch. Repeat. Endlessly.

It was also the evening that their youngest had a tick on her back. You suffocate it with vaseline and it eventually drops off. I can imagine many 7 year olds would freak having one of those on their back for a couple of hours.

Saturday saw us make pizzas.

We also had to chase Sari's escapee chicken back into the pen and other random fun moments.

Sunday, New Year's Eve, was another pleasant evening there. I was still coughing my chesty cough, which had been keeping me from sleeping, and my 10+ mossies bites were irritating me. These are two specimens on my ankle.  Sari stuffed me with vitamin C and antihistamine.

I hopped back in the pool briefly then played games with the kids. Sari thought it amusing how, from being a bit poorly and sick when I arrived, I totally perked up when presented with a pack of cards. Who wouldn't?


2018

And so, today, in New Year's Day, we start 365 days of 2018 and I'm sitting on the stoep keeping out of the sun and reading. I cannot easily leave the hostel today as nothing is open and I have no transport. The other couples here have hire cars/ are on tours but hey ho: no harm in reading (for me).  Tomorrow will be busier with travel (I hope my bites have subsided) and I'll be moving to cooler climes.

Roaming Alone - Africa

I have just started my first trip abroad alone.  Not that I haven't travelled solo before, but I've always been met the other end or had some companionship planned.  These next 3 weeks are very different as, apart from a friend in Windhoek, and a business meeting mid Jan, I don't have a scheduled rendezvous with anyone.  A bit scary for an extrovert who thrives on company.

So, anyway, I packed the essentials - a new book from my brother (oh how apt is that!)

and a 'pick me up' book from Riona. The Little Book of Mindfulness.

And painted my nails ready for Africa.

I set off on a chilly, damp Wednesday and soaked myself (not literally) with views of flooded Devon and Somerset.

It was a long journey.  Flight London to Paris and 5 hours at Charles de Gaulle airport; where I treated myself to lounge access.  Then an overnight flight to Johannesburg and I made my way to a local Protea hotel.  I had decided not to fly directly to Namibia that day as I had time to pace myself.

Well, after my tiring journey this was a welcome site: my room number sign.  It's an aeronautical chart of the Johannesburg area.

And this is similar, chart symbols on their hall carpet.  I have carpet lust!

It was hot so I sat in the shade by the pool and read Pygmalion - now I want to see it on stage.  The hotel appeared to be full of couples which, as a solo traveller, I don't yet find easy (I'm hope I will one day).

Look, a BA view from my seat.

It was a pleasant dinner.  But I'm hoping that I don't have each meal time alone!

Diary of a Black Eye

I came off my bike late on Friday 01 December landing on my shoulder and face.  I ended up in A&E with concussion and a suspected broken shoulder.  Not my finest hour.

Roger kindly came and scooped me up in the middle of the night and I stayed with him for a couple of days whilst the worse of the concussion passed.  Meanwhile, my black eye grew into a thing of beauty.   This is me the morning after the night before.  Not my most preened look.

And this a few hours later.

By the Saturday evening its true colours were emerging.

Awesome!

My first ever black eye - a rite of passage I suppose.  Sunday morning.

Sunday evening.

I received many empathetic comments from others who had been in this state. Monday morning.

Tuesday morning.

And the side of my face, as well as my eye, turned a delicate shade of yellow. Wednesday morning.

A week after it was certainly fading.  Saturday 09 December.

Sunday 10 December.

Thursday 14 December.

Sunday 17 December.

Pretty much gone now. Friday 22 December.

And healed for Christmas ;-)

My shoulder isn't fairing so well. This is it after my accident.

Basically I have 'disrupted' the ligaments between my clavicle and scapula.  My clavicle is elevated around 5 mm (it should be between 1/2 mm from the scapula) and it's also pushed back.   Very painful and pretty impossible to move.

The long and the short of it is that it will probably take between 6/12 months to fully heal.  I have limited mobility but I cannot put any weight on it.  It's mucked up my training regime somewhat.  I had the option of keyhole surgery last week but declined (on medical advice of course) as the doctors believe it could heal naturally.  The fact that I'm doing far more with it after 3 weeks than most people do gives them hope.  If it's still significantly disrupted in a few months time they may still need to operate.  We'll see.

And in the meantime I have to try and behave.  Not over use it - which is a little tricky as I'm left handed.  So I have have to be patient and gentle to myself.  Wish me luck!

Horsing Around in Kent

Last week I travelled to Kent to see a dear friend who has recently moved there.  I can work/study anywhere so it was a good opportunity to shift venues for a bit.  Rachel works for Tregothnan so I parked myself at her pad near Kings Hill.

On the Tuesday she suggested a walk with some horsey ladies who wanted to discuss bridleways access across Tregothnan land.  Rachel was too busy to walk with us so I was happy to attend as her replacement.  We met with the ladies and Rachel explained that she was leaving them in my capable hands.  "So, who are you?" they naturally quizzed - presuming that Rachel had rocked up with a random friend who was just out for a stroll in the sun.  "I'm a chartered surveyor like Rachel," I stated.  They looked a tad impressed.  "Actually I'm a land surveyor if that helps." Even more impressive looks.  "OK," they said, "let's walk".

So we walked across various bridle paths.  I had no idea of the nuances of bridle path, public footpath  etc. It seems that horse people dislike dog owners, dog owners dislike horse riders and every one hates ramblers and the RSPB.  Or that's the hierarchy I understood.  We walked various paths and came across some unfriendly horse barriers.

Double stacked railway sleepers are too high for horses to easily step over.  I'm not sure if they're there to discourage cyclists/motorcyclists but add on effect is that they can't be bridleways.

I suppose it depends whether you mind having an enduring right of way across your land that allows access to pedestrians, horse and cyclists.

Anyway, chartered surveying head off I spent Wednesday at Excel in London on an UAV exhibition. Very small and, to be honest, boring so I didn't spend long there. I won't drone on about it [a couple of my readers may get the joke] so I headed back to Kent via a familiar spot.

I've been in this pub many times and it's like a comfort zone when I'm having a shabby day.  Worked for me.

I headed back home on Friday and lo and behold, when I arrived back in Exeter some bright spark had nicked my suitcase.  So now I'm without glasses (so can't drive), chargers, mouth guard, MSc notes, clothes, gym shoes and all the other gubbins that one naturally carries around with them that isn't 'valuable' but it worth something to you because it's yours.  Someone else has all my stuff and I'm schlepped.  Awaiting the final guillotine from British Transport Police tomorrow (they say wait 7 days for it to turn up) then I'm onto an insurance claim.

So a very memorable week in Kent. But for all the wrong reasons.