So I probably won't be the first to say it, but we got run. We got what we desrerved from a really quick Ghana team and didn't finish our chances. Should be the end of good old Bob. The less said about the game the better. And for all you Scotch fans out there, don't try to drink an entire bottle of scotch in one sitting. It will end you.
Our trip up to Rustenburg on Saturday was pretty amazing, as we got a cab from the Garden Flat to Brown Sugars, had a few beers, and then piled into the bus with 10 Americans and 3 Australians. It was there that we were reunited with Steve, an American from Denver, and his friend Paul, from Atlanta. They were both Iowa boys originally and were the biggest Hawkeye fans I've ever met.
Steve was the biggest badass that ever lived, and let Adam know how tough NFL players are in emphatic fashion a few nights earlier. We ran from the pool table while he was in the bathroom in order to avoid a confrontation, and had only briefly seen him since. But there he was as we piled onto the bus, corn rows now removed (yes he was white) and drinking the last of a bottle of the Famous Grouse. It was 1 pm. We made a quick stop at the liquor store and then we were off to the game. There were 13 passengers on the bus and everyone was drinking. The game wasn't for another 7.5 hours.
We quickly learned why Steve was such a badass, because he's the only man I've ever known who quite geniunely claimed to have dried every drug ever invented, watched a 2.5 million dollar drug deal go down in Vegas under the watchful care of many, many, many AK47s, and possessed the ability to tailor his own suits while he flies an airplane, all while speaking multiple languaged. He had not, however, as it turns out, tried a Cheeseball (that's cocaine and cheese).
Everyone was pretty toasted by the time we got to the game and we all went off to watch it, which was not fun. I did have an American flag, however, which I bought for 80 Rand, and intend to use on Sunday while we set off fireworks. The game happened and ended, with Adam and Paul cheering for Ghana. On the way back to the bus Adam and Paul clashed with Paul and Steve, almost getting into our first fight on the continent. Steve and Paul eventually passed out in each other's arms and we were safe on the way back from Rustenburg. Even though the game ended at 11:00, we didn't make it back to the backpackers until nearly 4 am. I left my phone on the bus and couldn't get it back before we left town, so yes, I am now on phone number 4. We then took the dodgiest cab ride ever. As we screeched away from the curb Paul commented that we'd gotten Colin McRae as our taxi driver. I commented back that I hoped it wouldn't end like his last helicopter ride.
There are many stoplights and stop signs in JoBurg. It's a big city, that's only natural. And our cab ride took about 30 minutes. But we didn't stop for a single one. Our cabbie not only took us on a death defying trip through the city, he went the wrong way, got lost, and had to stop for directions. Yet he still had the bravado to drive through this great African city like a madman. When we got home it was nearly 5 and we immediatley crashed, tired from the long day of travel, drinking, and losing.
Sunday was much more chilled, and we just went and got some meat and had a Braai at the Garden Flat, which was quite nice. Our gracious host Azwi, treated us like personal guests, and we basically took over the house for a few days. On Monday we picked up another rental car, this time a much mightier Chevrolet, the Avon. This time it was an automatic, so we positively cruised down the motorway and then promptly got lost trying to find the Apartheid Museum in what we thought was Soweto. From there were aborted the mission and went back to the house for another Braai in lieu of getting killed.
We packed a lot into Tuesday, again getting lost in Soweto trying to find the same museum, but eventually stumbling across the Hector Pietersen Museum, which essentially served as a memorial and remembrance to the people who died during the Sharpeville Massacre in 1976. This served as a flashpoint for many of the black people in South Africa living under the Apartheid Regime and helped pave the way for freedom, which came 18 years later.
Our next stop was the Orlando Cooling Towers, two cooling towers that served as part of a power plant in the middle of Soweto. The plant is no longer running and now serves as a tourist site with a bar and a bungee jumping activities. Adam, quite frankly, pussied out of the bunjee jump and chose the swing, but Paul and I were up first for the bungee. We were matched up with a Mexican TV crew that wanted to film our jumps as part of a series on the world cup. Paul's Spanish allowed him to get pretty friendly with the crew, which later came back to bite him.
We rode up the elevator and I was to go first. I walked out on the bridge and the three jump masters took us through copious safety checks before walking me to the edge. They told me that once you got to the edge, they immediately start the count down making it harder for people to back out. Chin up, hands out, 5,4,3,2,1, and away you go. I really started getting scared on the elevator on the way up, and avoided looking down at the ground until I was falling face first directly towards it. The rush was a lot more intense than I expected it to be, as you'll be able to tell by what I yelled out on the video that we captured.
Paul was up next and while the same safety checks were applied, after he walked to the edge, the Mexicans had to get their shot right. So, with his toes hanging over the edge, he waited, and waited, and waited, and so did we on the ground, not really sure what was going on. Finally, with the words "Muchacho Loco" delivered into the camera, Paul was cleared for takeoff as well, and chose the swan dive off the edge as opposed to my falling action. All in all it was pretty good fun, although Adam's choice to take the giant swing instead put the tiniest damper on the activity. Maybe he'll man up and do the bungee next time we have a chance.
That evening we headed off to the Carnivore, a unique and meaty restaurant just outside of JoBurg. I'd been about 12 years ago to the other location, in Nairobi, and it was definitely worth the trip. Zebra, Kudu, Crocodile, and Impala were all on the menu, along with many others, and we worked our way through a continuous stream of meat coming towards our faces for over an hour. After a while we slowed down and quit, but the crocodile, kudu, and lamb were all big hits.
We woke up at 5 the next morning and made the long, long, long trip to Grahamstown, much of it through what may be our favorite province, the Eastern Cape. Grahamstown was pretty much as we remembered it, not much has changed. We immediately hit up the Rat & Parrot and the Old Gaol for a few pints before heading back to Victoria's mom's house, who graciously put us up in pretty nice digs with almost no warning. A night out in Grahamstown did us a lot of good, and we went to the totally new revamped and relocated Pirates, which doesn't just do pizza anymore. It's now a giant club and we would have spent many, many hours there had it been open while we were at Rhodes in 2008.
While the walk back up the hill was a bit of a struggle at 1 am, we made it back safely, and we're now about to go enjoy the National Arts Festival, which is happening right now in Grahamstown. Never have we seen it this busy here, and there's going to be all manner of things to do, which should make good filling for the next blog post. Tonight we stay at the Old Gaol and will definitely be having a 4th of July blowout to coincide with the end of festival. If you're American and in Grahamstown, get a hold of us. Or just walk outside after dark and look up. Cause we're gonna have fireworks. A lot of fireworks.
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