Camel Riding, Cave Exploring, and a Feather Baron's One-Night-a-Week Home

We've had no difficulty filling our four days in Oudsthoorn.  In fact, Debbie and Paul were up and out at 4:30 a.m. on our first day here to have a meerkat encounter at the local sanctuary and were absolutely chuffed for days.

Our 'bucket list' activity was far less sleep-depriving but did involve desert animals - camels, riding them to be precise.  Try as I might, I could not find any racing options over mountain passes to the strains of the sound track from Lawrence of Arabia.  Darn!  And I'm not sure if what we're about to do actually qualifies as a 'ride' since this is one of the offerings at the local kiddie park but what the heck.  They're here, we're here, and who knows the next time we'll have the opportunity to go camel riding.

There were a total of eight camels lazing about in the shade, and our camel wrangler chose two he thought appropriate for these greenhorns (only the males are ridden).  Plus there is a riderless, lead camel - no idea why.  The camel seems kind of like the ostrich, an ungainly, awkward, somewhat anachronistic creature who survives in the most demanding environment and is good for everything from transport to milk, hair, hides, and ultimately, steak!

First step, get on.  Easy, right?  Little step stool and just swing a leg over ala horseback riding.  Except horses don't have to get up off the ground after you get on.  Our wrangler tells me to hold on with one hand on the front iron grip and the other in the back.  Then he utters some incomprehensible command, flicks a switch on my camel's back legs, and I suddenly pitch forward.  Not off, just forward - as my camel unbends its rear legs, gets purchase on the sand, and gets its posterior in the air.  Just as I manage to adjust to that position, the front legs come up, and I pitch backward.  OK - I'm still in the saddle, the camel is upright.  Tim and his camel are upright - let's ride!!

It is a very strange feeling to be riding an animal, sitting in a saddle, and not having any reins to steer with.  Note, Tim, Mr. Cool, while yours truly appears to be clutching the iron grip like the steering wheel of a Formula 1 racing car.  No chance of hitting high speeds on this ride; this is strictly the ultra slow walk ride and I have to admit, not all that comfortable.  The saddle has two big pads, one under each upper hip area, no stirrups, and pretty much no padding over the camel's hump.

These camels were imported from Namibia and can go up to 20 days without eating.  Contrary to popular myth, the hump does not store water - it stores fat.  They're actually quite remarkable creatures. I read somewhere that if the load that's put on their saddle bags or their saddle or their camel carrier is too heavy, they just refuse to stand up.  'Not getting' up - no way - this is too flippin' heavy!'  And they spit and bite when cross.  Reminds me of some mules I've known . . .

Once we finish our circuit - all 8.5 minutes of it - and we're back at the oasis, our wrangler tells us it's fine to give them a hug.  And yes, they accept hugs quite graciously.

Next time I want to do this in Morocco or India!!
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Our other adventure for the day is a trip to the Cango Caves, a well known local attraction and considered by many to be the best caves in all of South Africa.  These caves were actually 'discovered' by the local San or Bushmen people long before any white men set foot on this continent.  The large, outer opening became a safe haven from the climate and animals, but they never ventured farther inside.   They believed their ancestors lived deep in the mountain, and it would be really bad juju to disturb them.  Then sometime in the late 1800's, some intrepid and non-ancestor worshipping whites started poking around and, lo and behold, they found passageways, big 'rooms' and a whole lot of really unusual stuff they'd never seen.  Early on, they just broke off stalactites and mites as souvenirs and even left their graffiti on the cave walls.  But soon they realized what a treasure they had and began efforts to protect and preserve it.  Since then, exploration has continued and new branches and passageways continue to be discovered.  The caves are now administered by the municipality of Oudsthoorn.

You can take the 'regular' tour which lasts an hour or the 'adventure' tour which lasts an hour and a half and is not for the chubby or claustrophobic.  The last part of that tour involves wriggling through a passageway that is 15cm high - you would be able to hear my screams in Tucson!

Regular tour it is, and well worth it.  The tour guide is enthusiastic and very well-informed.  Photo of one of the majestic formations in the very first room we enter.  The green is actually algae which grows on the stalactites as the result of organic material being inadvertently introduced into the caves and interacting with the ambient moisture.  Interestingly, here the biggest contaminant is biltong which is a jerky-like snack that's sold everywhere and consumed by the ton.  Everybody seems to have a piece or three in their pocket or mouth or handbag.

These are truly not 'living' caves like Kartchner in Arizona, and the guide was fascinated when we told her of the strict entry procedures for getting into Kartchner.  There were no 'Do Not Touch' signs, no prohibitions against flash photography - which really surprised us.  There are probably bats here in Cango, but we didn't see any guano or any upside down daytime sleepers.

What we did see were these otherworldly sculptures of limestone, accreted over millions and millions of years . . .

This room was dubbed the honeymoon suite for its array of columns that appeared to surround a bed.

And this was just so grotesque or beautiful.  These stalactites have taken millions or years to develop and as we stood there, we could hear the drip, drip, drip of water, slowly adding to this beauty.

One more travel note . . . I can't leave Oudsthoorn without a bit about our museum visit.  It was a remarkable building - formerly a boys school - and chock-a-block full of neat stuff about local history.  And most remarkably, it includes a synagogue which is still in use!  Oudsthoorn had and still has a significant Jewish population and at one time was dubbed 'Little Jerusalem'.

The museum is right in the center of town and occupies a place of honor; the local ladies have set up shop right next door with a brilliant array of ostrich feather treasures and decorated eggs on offer.

Museum admission includes a visit to one of the 'feather baron' houses - the Le Roux family home -which was used for 65 years, one night a week. They came to town on Saturday afternoon, had dinner, went to church on Sunday, and returned to the farm after their midday meal.  The last surviving relative lived here until 1969 and on her death willed it to the town as a museum.  Modest as baronial digs go, but it was their one night a week house!

Oudsthoorn has been a delight and an education - great fun!  On to Barrydale, a funky little art community on our way to the wine route.

One of South Africa's Iconic Drives

We're a ways in from the coast (Indian Ocean), on the other side of a mountain range where the climate and terrain change abruptly from lush and tropical to high desert or karoo.  These were truly hardy folk who made their way here and managed to farm, ranch, and build a life for themselves and their families.

These early karoo settlers and entrepreneurs had the enormous challenge of getting raw material from the big city ports over the mountains and then getting finished goods (and, of course ostrich feathers) over these mountain passes to one of the ports at Knysna, Port Elizabeth, or even as far as Cape Town. While it doesn't look terribly far on the map, getting over these mountain passes is a challenge.  In fact, the most daunting passage from Oudsthoorn - the Swartberg Pass - has a 17km section that is still unpaved!  And that's by design.  The entire route starting just outside the charming town of Prince Albert, up and down into Oudsthoorn, has been declared a national monument and a UNESCO World Heritage Site.  Easy to understand.  This is no longer a commercial conduit; it is a national treasure.

This is not only jaw-dropping scenery, it is mind-bending geology, and truly impressive engineering. Our first stop is at Meeringport Falls.  Interestingly, the warning signs at the side of this gorgeous pool say 'No Diving' rather than 'No Swimming'.  Legend has it that years ago someone did dive into this pool and was never seen again; their body was never recovered.

Truly gorgeous spot and the promise of what's in store.

This amazing road was built between 1881 and 1888 by a team of 250 convict laborers under the direction of Thomas Bain who, having apprenticed under his father - an equally famous road engineer in South Africa - was certainly the perfect man for the job.  In fact, the dry stack reinforcing walls he installed in the late 1800's are still in place today over 130 years later.  We were both reminded of the CCC/WPA roads through Glacier National Park which, much like these roads in Swartberg, are still in use today.

Yes, that little ribbon on the lower left is the road!  The road snakes through numerous valleys but Bain had no choice but to climb various mountain sides.  Removing rock was a most ingenious, albeit somewhat imprecise, process:  the workers would boil water, pour it on the rock, and immediately follow it with a dousing of cold water.  The rock shattered (hopefully without taking any workers with it) and then they just had to remove all the rock rubble.  Sounds a lot easier than it was, no doubt.

At this view from the road side of one of Mr. Bains' remarkable dry stack retaining walls, you can barely make out a couple of cars down below.  It was difficult to get very many photos as there were very few places along this narrow dirt track where we could actually pull off.  In fact, in a couple of places, it was a good thing we were a fairly small car passing another fairly small car!  Campers are expressly forbidden from even starting (or thinking about starting) this transit!

And we thought our 550' cinder block wall around our front yard of the New Mexico house was impressive!

The payoff is this gorgeous view from the crest of the drive . . . would make Renoir swoon!

Views along this astonishing drive include some fascinating flora, notably fields of South Africa's national flower, the protea, or the end of season remains of same.

And we know we're back in Oudsthoorn because we're surrounded by ostriches!

Wow - what a day, what a drive, what a road!!

Ostriches - Feathers, Eggs, and Burgers!

Oudsthoorn is a booming town in the Little Karoo (also called the Klein Karoo) known as the 'ostrich capital of the world'.  I thought mmmm . . . after Mardi Gras and Rio's Carnivale and yet another remake of 'La Cage Aux Folles', there can only be so much demand for ostrich feathers.  Feather dusters, boas, funky Halloween costumes but wait . . . think handbags, shoes, wallets, belts . . . and burgers!

Ostrich filet, ostrich burgers, minced ostrich, ostrich steak, ostrich carpaccio . . . is there no end to the things one can do with ostrich??  Honestly, this is a divine meat without all the 'bad stuff' of beef.

And as if that isn't enough, then there are the eggs!  One ostrich egg is the equivalent of 24 hen eggs and takes between 1.5 and 2 hours to hardboil.  The empty egg shell is marvelously strong and lends itself to all sorts of incising, decorating, and adorning that would make even a Russian czar clutching his Faberge egg swoon!

Our first outing is to the Ostrich Safari Farm (one of three open to the public) just outside town.  We chose this one because it was the very first - established on the mid 1950's by one of the offspring of the 'feather barons' so named because at one time ostrich feathers were literally worth more than gold.  An enterprising Lithuanian Jewish immigrant retrieved some ostriches from Algeria, bred them with the indigenous variety and the result is the Oudsthoorn ostrich that produced the world's most coveted feathers and laid the golden eggs.

Their ancestors, a really, really big version of today's ostrich called the elephant ostrich, can be traced to the age of the dinosaurs over 50 million years ago.  Today's ostrich can top out at 320 pounds and grow to 9' tall!  It is the biggest bird on earth although it is totally flightless.  Each eye measures 2.5" in diameter and is the largest eye of any creature on earth (to get these two big eyes the brain had to give up cranial real estate so the cerebral brain mass is a bit on the skimpy side).  Even with all this, it still looks eerily like its dinosaur ancestors.

It's a rather ungainly looking creature but is capable of outrunning a cheetah at 70mph and can sustain speeds of 40mph.  They have only two toes and the joint that's halfway up their leg isn't a knee, it's an ankle.  The males are black and white, the females a dun grey/brown.  Females get daytime egg-sitting duty on a clutch of as many as 60 eggs from multiple females, and the males take over at night.  Once the chicks hatch they're pretty much on their own, but in fact the whole flock (up to 100 in all) is raising them.  

Not sure what got this guy so agitated, but it resulted in a whole lot of screeching and fluttering.  We did learn that when females are ready to mate, they perform a kind of ground-sweeping dance with their feathers, and when the males are ready to mate, they also do a feather dance. And just so there's no doubt about the male's intention, his beak and shins turn pink and finally bright red.  Alas, we didn't see either of these.  Contrary to popular lore, ostriches do not bury their heads in the ground; when threatened, they flatten their bodies, neck and head so close to the ground that it appears their head is buried.  It isn't.  

Ostriches can live up to 75 years, and their feathers can be cut every eight months.  The market for ostrich feathers isn't what it once was. WWI and the advent of open touring cars pretty much destroyed the market for big hats with even bigger ostrich feathers.  But the enterprising ostrich farmers looked ahead and realized there were other markets for the products of this remarkable bird.

Leather products were the first bright idea and worked well for a while, but not great.  So the creative marketing folk put their heads together once again - or maybe they discovered this totally by accident at the local pub as these things often happen - and realized the meat was not only super tasty but free of the 'bad things' that make beef taste so good.  Voila!  Ostrich farming/ranching becomes a booming business.  All ostrich growers in the Klein Karoo belong to a cooperative and make joint decisions about all issues involved in the care, cultivation, and slaughter of the ostrich; the industry also provides a great many jobs for locals.

Testimony to the strength of ostrich eggs, here's Paul standing on a pile of them!

After watching the free-range flock, we go to a feeding station where Tim no sooner picks up the feeding ladle than an eager male is right there to relieve him its contents.

Then we are introduced to a rare trio - one all while ostrich, one all black ostrich, and one half white/half black ostrich.  The tour guides have named them respectively:  Madonna, Lady Gaga, and Michael Jackson.  Is there any corner of the globe that American popular culture has not had its impact???

Last, but certainly not least for me, was the opportunity to sit on one of these birds.  I lobbied for a quick trot around the enclosure - even challenged Tim to a time trial -  but that was quickly squashed, and I had to satisfy myself with a sitting pose.

This has been a remarkable experience; I have learned to appreciate a bird I once thought of as goofy, awkward, unattractive, and somewhat anachronistic.  No longer.  These birds are wonderful!!

Out and About in Knysna

Happy Thanksgiving to all our dear friends and family in the US!!

Knysna is a totally charming, seaside town with something for everyone.  Eating, shopping, hiking, boating, sightseeing, zip lining, kloofing - kloofing?  A kloof is a high, rocky outcropping, and one of the more popular 'extreme' sports is abseiling down a kloof.  (The same adrenelin junkies who do this also dive off the highest bungee jump in the world.)

We've had unseasonably cold and wet weather while here and scrambled out as soon as the sun made an appearance.  One of our first destinations - the Knysna Heads, a picture postcard setting.

The open sea between the two 'heads' is a very perilous passage; nonetheless, a local businessman and timber baron, George Rex, persuaded the Crown that it should be declared an official port in the late 1700's, all the better to export the seemingly endless supply of gorgeous timber in the nearby virgin forest.

And George Rex and Knysna are inextricably linked and a bit of a mystery.  Is George Rex, the illegitimate son of an English king, or is George Rex (sometimes spelled 'Rix'), simply the clever son of a London distiller who was in the right place at the right time and, as a result, became incredibly successful?  Whichever way you lean,  George Rex is generally given credit for setting the stage for today's Knysna.

Legend . . . George Rex's purported papa was George III; his mama a commoner and a Quaker named Hannah Lightfoot.  Needless to say, this union and the three children of same didn't go over well at court.  Their marriage was annulled, and George III was subsequently married off to some European princess.  His children by Hannah were reportedly pensioned off, never to be heard from again.  The End.  Not quite.

Their oldest child, George Rex, although never acknowledged as having any royal blood, was somehow appointed to a lovely sinecure in the Cape Colony - of which Knysna is a distant part - and pensioned off at the princely sum of 1,000 British pounds a year!  What we do know, from contemporaneous accounts, is that old George's arrival in Knysna was accompanied with more pomp and circumstance and carriages and 'stuff' than anyone in this remote corner of the world had ever seen.  He never (re)married, had four children by a local black woman and, after her death, had eleven more children by one of her daughters.  Incredibly, despite all these offspring, not one survived to carry on the family name.  On his deathbed, George Rex is reputed to have said 'Never marry.  Never declare any legitimate heirs.'

Whatever the truth is, George Rex put Knysna on the map for all time, and it is now one of the 'must see' places on the Garden Route.  It's easy to see why.  The town is chock-a-block full of restaurants, nifty little shops, waterfront dining options, and drop dead views.

We're standing on the East Head; opposite us a national park, accessible only by ferry and tram (you can just make out the ribbon of track in the distance).  An all-day excursion is a ferry to the park, being hauled up the hill by tram, and then hiking down to be retrieved by the ferry.  Watching these treacherous currents, we all marvel that any ship was able to make it into the calm waters of the Knysna Lagoon.  A lot of them didn't, including the very first one which had to be towed and beached to clear the passage.  We hike down for an up close look at the harbor entrance.  Impressive!

And then back to the waterfront for something to eat and drink!

I think Chicago was the second most distant point from the Knysna waterfront (more than halfway around the globe!).
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We're here on 'Remembrance Sunday' which for you non-Brits is another time to celebrate 'Poppy Day', the official commemoration of the lives lost during World War I.  Officially, Poppy Day is recognized on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month; here in south Africa it's been moved a bit to Sunday, November 13th.  Tim and I have had our 'God' time at the local Catholic Church and are due to meet Debbie and Paul downtown.  Walking down the main drag, we see that it's been cordoned off, and there's not a vehicle in sight.  When we ask the local gendarmes what's happening, we are convinced their response is  'We're clearing the streets of squatters or Scottish.'  Huh?

It turns out we are headed right for the Remembrance Day ceremony complete with a local marching band and a group of young soldiers.

Following a short ceremony and the requisite mournful bagpipers, the marching band and troops paraded smartly up and down the main street (which was devoid of squatters and Scottish), and the ceremony was complete.

Tomorrow we're off to Oudsthoorn, the ostrich capital of South Africa!

Pliny on Elephants

If you've followed us from the first travel blog in India you know that I am fascinated by elephants.  We are in luck, as Knysna has a most wonderful elephant park just minutes out of town.  Here you can feed and socialize with them, walk into the bush with them, ride them on a safari, and even get married with them as honored guests.  We opt for the 'feed and socialize' ticket (it's a cold and blustery day) and spend a few minutes in the display prior to being called for our 11 a.m. tour.

I especially liked this poster in the waiting area and was intrigued to see when and by whom it was written.

Another display has an elephant foot with a post stating that during the great predations of these giants, their feet were taken as souvenirs and used as footstools!  I didn't know that an elephant's height is three times the circumference their foot.

How Knysna Elephant Park came into being . . . over 20 years ago, a local couple adopted two abandoned/orphaned elephants and named them Harry and Sally.  They had no idea what they were doing but were impelled to take in these two homeless, unwanted elephants.  Their care and love has been repaid many times over.  Since then, they've adopted a few more elephants, had several births, and, sadly, lost a couple.  Today this is a first class research facility which employs a number of locals, and allows folks like us to have an up close and very personal experience with elephants.

With our treat bucket (fruits and veggies) in hand, we climb on to the tram for a short ride to the open field where the herd is waiting.  Our guide instructs us as to the proper way to hand feed them.  Actually it's much like feeding a horse except that instead of the velvety muzzle scrabbling against your outstretched palm, it is the tip of their trunk sucking up treats like a vacuum.  We learn that their trunk has over 1,000 muscles and is capable of an incredible variety of actions including communicating pleasure or distress.

After they had emptied our treat buckets, the herd moved to an open grassy area where we were encouraged to touch them, stroke them and, of course, have our pictures taken with them!

Their hide is incredibly thick and tough but can detect a fly landing on it.  An adult African elephant can weigh up to 4.5 tons (yes, that's 9,000 pounds); newborns weigh around 500 pounds.

I couldn't help but wonder - why do elephants have toenails??

This big female is the grande dame of the herd and, oddly, was infertile (she also had only one tusk which is quite unusual).  Her 'sister' (on the left) has had one calf, and this elderly female is the official auntie; were anything to happen to the calf's mama, she would assume the maternal role.

Had it been a sunny, warm day I probably would have spent hours out there with them.  However, it was nasty and cold, and soon the next tour group appeared, and the elephants knew the drill - they started moving to the feeding line, awaiting the next bearers of goodie buckets.

I know there is a a school of thought that says this is artificial, staged, and the elephants are conditioned to 'perform' for visitors.  And, yes, that's probably all true but my feeling is 'so what!' They are safe, well cared for, and thoroughly loved.  This wasn't always the case.

Knysna is a charming coastal village surrounded by magnificent old growth forest that came perilously close to being eradicated.  To the early settlers, the forest seemed boundless, and the only thing that stood in the way of all that logging was, you guessed it, a herd of over 2,000 elephants.  Early loggers actually lived in hollowed out tree trunks, fitted them with barred 'doors' to protect themselves from elephants!

The Knysna forest elephants are a unique subset of African elephants and evolved with significantly larger eyes to see in the dark, dense forest.  Once logging got underway, eliminating the elephants was essential.  One elephant hunter boasted that he killed over 200 elephants on one hunt.  Now there are none left, except for the ones who live at this park.  Legend has it that there is one aged female still lurking in the woods, but she hasn't been spotted for years.  So, yes, this may be artificial but I don't give a hoot; these wondrous creatures are protected, loved, and appreciated by thousands of visitors every year, including us.  And for that I'm so very grateful!

A Township Tour and a Look at the Other South Africa

To date, almost all of our interactions have been with the 10% or less of the South African population that is white. Not what we had hoped for but not all that surprising.  However, now that we're in Knysna we have several choices for township tours.  We opt for Emzini (means 'my home' in Xhosa) which, although slightly more expensive, is renowned for its contributions to the township community.  The tour company is jointly owned by Ella and Penny who met over 14 years ago while attending the same church.

They run two tours a day, maximum nine people at a time, and Ella has enlisted the help of her son, Tandi (Xhosa for 'love'), for help as a tour guide.  It is a very popular tour, and reservations are essential.  We meet Penny at the Knysna waterfront at 10 a.m. on a gorgeous sunny day (our first in a while) and quickly fill the van and head up the hill to the township with Tandi as our guide. A little background . . .

In the early 20th century, the national government decreed, as part of their apartheid policy, that all blacks were to be resettled into townships that were within walking distance of the nearest town (there was a 'no man's land' to ensure the separation was enforced).  'Walking distance' is a stretch as the walking distance from this township into the center of Knysna, where most residents work, is several kilometers - downhill in the morning and a grueling uphill at the end of the workday. There is a jitney-type bus that costs 9 rand (about 60 cents) each way.  Monthly wages are between 1300 and 2000 rand for the average worker who works at a restaurant or guesthouse.

View from the township into Knysna.

It's not entirely clear what people were supposed to do for housing back then, but until Nelson Mandela's release from prison and his subsequent rise to national power in the early 1990's, these were at best shanty towns - at worst, totally unfit for human habitation.  The most famous township in South Africa, and one that became known worldwide as ground zero of the apartheid resistance movement, was Soweto, just outside Johannesburg.

One of the sweeping reforms Mr. Mandela instituted was the Reconstruction and Redevelopment Program (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reconstruction_and_Development_Programme) which mandated that every black South African citizen was entitled to a safe, clean home complete with running water, power, and sewer lines.  Now, over 20 years on, the government continues to try and make good on this promise.  Given that the population of South Africa is around 55 million people and approximately 80% of them are black (9% are colored and the remaining white, Indian and Asian), to say this is a daunting proposition is a gross understatement.  Some cities are doing better than others; things in Cape Town are less than encouraging http://www.aljazeera.com/indepth/features/2016/09/south-africa-housing-crisis-remnant-apartheid-160929094237631.html

But here in Knysna, it seems to be working and working rather well.  There are row upon row of newly-constructed brick dwellings, all with the same size plot of land, all identical in shape and layout - two bedrooms, kitchen/common room and indoor bathroom (about 40sq meters in all).

We learn from Tandi that this is a multi-step process:  first comes the installation of temporary dwellings (small wooden structures); next is moving the occupants into the temporary dwellings and razing the old shanties.  Once the new home is completed, the family is moved from the temporary structure into their new home.  The temporary dwellings are then relocated to the next rehousing area, and the process is repeated.

We see all three types of housing on our tour.  The terraced plots on the left above are awaiting new construction.  Between 25,000 and 30,000 people live in this township which is comprised of a number of neighborhoods (including one Rasta 'hood which is weed central and worships Haile Selassie).  The township is self-governed; each neighborhood (about 20 or so) has a council representative who reports to the mayor and together they are responsible for the whole township.

Most blacks live in townships; they were forced to until the end of apartheid.  With end of this abhorrent policy, this was their community, this was their world, this was the only way of life they had ever known.  Many blacks who have been successful have stayed in the townships, built rather grand homes complete with garages!  A few blacks have moved 'into town' but no whites live in townships.  And, interestingly, another group, known as 'coloureds' (mixed race) have their own townships; they do not live in black townships.

A township is pretty much a self-contained economic unit.  We pass hairdressers, tiny grocery stores, take-away food stands, and ad hoc taxi services.  We stop at a 'mend and make shoes' shop, owned by a very dynamic and articulate young man (Joe De Cobbler) who emigrated from Nigeria years ago, married a South African woman and they now operate this shop out of a shipping container.

This enterprising lady was barbecuing chicken feet which we are told is a favorite snack.  In the background is one of 'the big five' township animals - the other four are dogs, pigs, goats and horses.

The highlight of our tour was a visit to a pre-school center where we were surrounded by smiling, happy little ones.  They serenaded us with several choruses of 'If You're Happy and You Know It'.

Emzini tours operates 'safe houses' for people who are the victims of domestic abuse.  Currently, they have two - one has four young women who are studying for admission to university; the other houses several women and their children.  Alcohol abuse is a big problem here, and attempts to start AA have been unsuccessful.  There are three primary schools and two high schools; education is free but parents must purchase school uniforms (used and free are available).  In addition, there is an immaculate and inviting library and a fire house.

We pass several churches which Tandi tells us are well-attended and supported.  He hastens to add that many of the African traditions are alive and well and coexist with Christianity.  One of them is the ancient rite of circumcision.  At the age of 18, a young man is circumcised and immediately sent into the bush with the admonition that he is not to drink any water for a week. Before departing, he gives away all his clothes, is dressed entirely in white, and given the blessing of the community elders.  At week's end, he returns to the community where he is welcomed with a lavish celebration of his manhood along with a whole new set of clothes. Any young man who chooses not to undergo this ritual is forever banned or treated as 'less than' by the community.  It's pretty much a 'must do'.

Our last stop is for tea and cookies while being serenaded by Tandi and four others, three of whom provide drumming accompaniment.  Their voices blend seamlessly, effortlessly, fill the room and overflow into the yard and down the street.  Absolutely beautiful!

We also get a brief language lesson in Xhosa which includes the unique clicks made at the back of the throat and produce a surprisingly strong and unique sound.  Finally, we get a turn at drumming, complete with a lesson.

We're both struck by the lack of animosity or bitterness at the abysmal treatment of blacks over the years. Tandi looks at us and says matter-of-factly - 'We're a forgiving people.  Carrying anger in your heart harms you far more than the one you're angry with.'  I couldn't imagine a better thought on which to end this most remarkable day.

Thank you Emzini Tours - Penny, Ella, Tandi - and everyone who so graciously welcomed us into their lives today!

http://www.emzinitours.co.za/

Exotic Birds, A Big Duh 'Big Tree', and a Surprise Meeting of the Neighbors

The Crags is definitely a tourist stop and boasts Monkey Land, Birds of Eden, and a Snake Sanctuary.  Okay, that last one got our attention and we ask our host, Toni, about snakes.  She calmly responds that, 'yes, we have them' but quickly assures us they don't come inside and, for the most part, are not to be feared.  For the most part??? Think we'll stick with birds for our wildlife outing!

Turns out to be a wonderful choice and we spend a delightful couple of hours on a gorgeous sunny day in a huge bird sanctuary with the most colorful birds we're ever seen.  This beauty greets us as soon as we walk through the plastic curtain entrance (no air-lock entry here).  Try as I might to identify this in our 'Identification Guide' I was unsuccessful.  Dubbed him the 'welcome bird'.

Not long after we meet our first golden pheasant - an absolute beauty!

This sanctuary is so well-designed; the birds are everywhere.  There are feeding stations all along the elevated walkways, and the birds are so habituated to people it's like we're not even there.

We saw a number of these - I checked off a Livingston toluca (think I got it right) - and they were quite happy to pose.  This sanctuary was built in 2005 at a cost of 9 million rand and used unskilled workers from the local township of Kurland (a township is an entirely black community, and the workers then had skills that they were able to use in the construction industry).  The sanctuary covers 2.1 hectares and is home to over 200 species of birds.

The original covering was supported by a mesh netting which weighed 80 tons.  A few years later, fearing the weight of the netting was stressing the supporting beams, the original covering was replaced with one made out of stainless steel weighing a mere 8 tons.  A shot of one of those beams and what our ID guide tells us is a von der Decken's hornbill - a male since he has a yellow beak tip and black cutting edge.

Many of these birds were actually abandoned domestic pets - parrots and such - that people no longer wanted or couldn't care for (think of the African grey that can live for upwards of 80 years and frequently pines away if their owner dies or can no longer care for them).  We couldn't help but think this determined fellow was once domesticated.  He seemed to be making a bid for going home with Paul by repeatedly trying to untie his shoelaces!

Another toluca. . . 

A green-napped lorikeet at a feeding station . . . 

And then the water birds which were a visual delight.  A scarlet ibis seemed to be posing for us.

The extravagantly-colored Mandarin duck.

A flamingo who appears to be doing the Narcissus thing . . .

And a great grey heron.

One of the suspension bridges over the tropical regions below.

And the last, but perhaps the most fun, observation was this nesting tree within feet of the waterside cafe where we ended our visit with coffee and a sweet.  We watched the parent birds dealing with what were obviously two adolescents.  One of teens actually took off while we were there, made it to the water's edge and then looked longingly back at the nesting tree as if to say 'what do I do now?'

Our other nature excursion was on the Titsitkamma National Park trail - a short hike to 'the Big Tree'. When we got there, the four of us looked at each other and went 'well duh'.  Yes, it's old, kinda big, not identified as to type, and after you've seen really big trees in the California redwood forest, this was a big ho hum.  What do you think?

The real treat was still in store.  Headed up the narrow country road to our charming cottage in the woods, Paul abruptly brakes, and the four of us are positively gobsmacked.  For a second or two, we are so stunned we can't believe what we are seeing:  a baboon family group!  Yes, this is a rural setting, but it is not a game park.  There are several lodgings close together, a number of private homes, a horse facility, and a lot of people just out and about, walking their dogs, and doing stuff that country people do. 

And these fellow primates are just out, lounging about, doing what baboons do (no dog walking).

A couple of young ones hangin' in the branches of a tree . . . 

And this big fella makes his way across the road right in front of us!!

Absolutely amazing!!!

I'll close this post with a bird-related item; there were several of these on our cottage porch, and the birds loved them. 

This has to be the most ingenious bird feeder we've ever seen.  Definitely having a go at making one of these when we get home.