Author: These Two Eyes

These Two Eyeshttp://www.thesetwoeyes.comI believe that experiences are the key to life and travelling shapes those experiences. I try and get away to experience somewhere, something, anything and everything new as often as I can, and it's typically the thought on my mind on a regular basis – so what’s next? Meeting people and hearing their stories, experiencing other cultures, and having a laugh along the way. Trying new food, marvelling at the similarities, the differences. Feeling anxious and scared, and excited and envious all at the same time. This is what it's all about. Thanks for listening to my stories. Eat, drink, explore, meet, laugh...it all makes living worth it.

The American-Australian Debate

I’m an American expat and have been living in Brisbane, Australia for exactly 1 year and 10 months (in two days). Acquaintances of both nationalities often ask me what the other is really like. Are we really all so different?

What’s interesting is that many Australians, like many other societies, have an idealistic vision of certain aspects of America influenced by pop culture. Going to Disney World, New York City, and Vegas are top priority destinations on a bucket list for many. For some equally naive Americans, Australia is depicted as a laid back, blond-haired surf community who put shrimp on the barbie and have pet kangaroos.

So here are 6 observations – and I must preface “in my opinion” – between Australian and American ways of life.

There will be people, places and ideas that of course don’t apply to everyone, and everything. I’m in no way insinuating that they do. You could argue that I could include facts about dueling healthcare systems, poverty lines and unemployment rates, but I’m not going to go there. There are also many topics like food, drinking cultures, and television. This is just a small aspect of current reflections of my time on both continents.

1. Societal pressure

This is my ultimate number one; a topic I engage in conversations regularly. As an American growing up on the East Coast there is a simple formula to success. You go to school and get good test scores. You choose a university and the more prestigious the name, the better. While enrolled in university you partake in extra curricular activities, clubs and begin undergoing internships as soon as possible. You graduate in 4 years, no more. After graduation due to your collegiate success you have a job lined up and gradually work your way up the corporate ladder. There is no gap year; there is no break to sit back and think about your future. At 18 before you even leave high school you sign up for the rest of your life.

Furthermore, your career becomes your status. Blue collar jobs are frowned upon and success is measured by you and your significant other’s occupation.

I find that the societal pressure I speak of above is drastically less significant here in Australia. A university degree is important, but not essential to obtaining a career. And I use the term career loosely. Less significant is what job you have, but better the fact that you have a job. Blue-collar jobs, mineworkers, plumbers, construction workers, what they term as “tradies” are highly regarded, because they require skill and get paid big bucks. There is no shame in saying your significant other is an admin assistant or carpenter.

With that, keeping a long-standing career in one area isn’t as essential. Most young people go traveling between graduating high school and going to university, if they even do. In fact, its called a “gap year” and encouraged. Many people work for an amount of time to save their money and then go traveling…in their 20s AND 30s. But what about your job when you get back, saving for a house, babies? The priority tends to be more about enjoying your life and spending the time and money you do have on experiencing it.

Of course, there is the current economic state and unemployment rate in the US compared to the high economic success Australia is having at the moment (ahum mining) that one could argue are attributing to both of these factors and cannot be ignored. However if you removed them from the equation I still feel strongly that it’s an underlying mentality of each culture more then anything else.

2. Cost of living

In Australia, it is astronomical. Again, the economy…I get it. Australians get paid more and therefore things cost more. New York is expensive but in comparison to everyday Australia, it’s a bargain.

Here are a few examples of Brisbane and New York price comparisons:

Piece of Pizza: AU $7; US $2.50

Bus Ticket: AU $4.80; US $2.50

6 Pack of Beer: AU$ 16; US $8

Pair of Nike sneakers: AU $240; US $180

Gatorade: AU$4.80; US $2.50

Another example is retirement packages. In the US, your employer may provide you with a 401K package, in which you contribute a certain percent (typically a 3% minimum) of your salary in which your employer contributes another 3%. In Australia, your employer legally has to pay you Superannuation of 12% on top of your salary, and you can contribute to it as you like. Not a bad deal.

3. Airline etiquette

One advantage of being a country that has no majors concerns about national security means that your airport traffic and regulations can be a whole lot more lax. Let’s compare the two experiences.

If I were to have an 8 o’clock domestic flight, I would depart Brisbane Airport at 7:40. I would therefore likely arrive at the airport before my flight at 7:20 or so. Yes, 20 minutes before boarding is plenty of time. Upon entering the destinations lounge I would approach one of the 30 or so Qantas kiosks scattered around the area to check in. To do so I’d simply search by my last name, then first name, and finally select my destination from a list in order for my boarding pass to print. While I’m at it, I would also print my baggage tag and then check my own bag without the assistance of anyone needed, but the friendly service attendants make themselves available just in case.

Once approaching security, at worst will take more then 5 minutes, I put my bags through the scanner. The only thing I need to take out is my laptop or any sort of aerosols. Shoes stay on, sweatshirt stays on, water stays put and get this, and so does my ID the entire time! I’m through, whew, although I will add that I always get picked for that darn bomb detector swifter.

There’s also something strange about the plane etiquette. It’s an unspoken signal. Just as its time to board, without an announcement needed everyone just files into line to board the plane. Sometimes they announce to board by row, buts its unnecessary as everyone takes into an orderly fashion. There are some passengers with carry-on items but not everyone carrying everything they own on earth.

Qantas domestic provides one bag complimentary checked, complimentary meals or snacks on every flight, and free booze during evenings. Sometimes I even get inflight entertainment – like movies on my own personal screen. Just saying. I’ve never seen anyone get bumped for an oversold flight or asked to give-up his or her seat.

The flipside. Where to start. Smelly home-made food, old-school planes, madness, no overhead room for luggage, chaos at security. My god.

Most US airlines oversell their seats. That means that if you don’t select your seat when your purchase your ticket (usually at a cost if you’re not a member of their loyalty program with a certain status) there is a chance that when you arrive at the airport to check in you may not have a seat on your purchased flight. Notice boards are now customary in many airport lounges with a long stand by list. A plus, if you’re in no rush you can usually give up your seat for a voucher for a free future flight and get on the next plane.

Because luxuries like complimentary meals, even measly food like the classic bag of peanuts, no longer exist, that means that people have begun the disgusting habit of bringing left overs from home or in take out containers from the airport food court. There is nothing like sitting in a vacuum-sealed compartment with the pungent smell of hundreds of passengers’ leftovers wafting in the air.

And one final point, as plane upgrades seem like a thing of the past and flying aviation from 20 years ago is trending, airlines have tacked on costs for checked baggage. Yes, this exists here in Australia too for airlines aside from Qantas. But, for some reason I find that American passengers have decided it’s just not worth the cost to check a bag, and therefore try and beat the system by bringing on board everything they possibly own. If you’re unfortunate to board the plane last you won’t even have room to tuck away your handbag.

4. Shortening of words

Is it shortening of words, or just slang? I think a bit of both. Some say it derives from the criminals who founded this darn continent (geez lets just forget about the indigenous people), regardless, picking up new fashion slang and slicing every multi syllable word in half is right up my ally.

Ranga – someone with red hair (short for orangutan)

Tradie – someone who works a trade job

Arvo – Afternoon

Bicky – Biscuit aka cookie

Cuppa – Cup of coffee or tea

Barbie – BBQ

Togs, Swimmers – Bathing Suit

Snags – Sausages

Singlet – Tank top

Sunnies – Sunglasses

Bottle O’ – Liquor Store

Servo – Service Station/Gas Station

Mate – Friend

5. Sitting in the front of cabs

So one of the best things about New York City is the cabs. You can get across town, uptown to downtown etc. for under a $20 cab fair. While your at it, yapping away to your friends passing street vendors, bodegas, and various bars, although it can be annoying at times, you have a TV sharing with you the latest weather, pop culture, and news. Don’t like it, simply turn it off. But sometimes it’s a nice distraction to pass the time. Rarely do you sit in the front of a cab, and that’s only when you’re exactly 4 people.

In Brisbane at least, a cab from the trendy “going out” area of The Valley to my apartment a 15-minute walk away cost $12. Public transport is outrageous, hard to come by without dialing a number, and the fairs increase the later it gets.

The expectation is that if you’re a solo passenger you sit in the front. It can be an exhausting experience. Sometimes I don’t want to make conversation and so I’ll say my brief hello, provide my destination then stare aimlessly out the window or watch the expensive meter tick by. Other times call for being a chatterbox and time passes quickly with friendly attentiveness from my chauffeur.

I’m aware this isn’t a comparison on America as it is more on NYC versus Brisbane but for someone making the transition, sitting in the front one on one with the driver can be intense.

6. Service and options

But none of the above comparisons can go without mentioning the luxuries that America has that Australia, or at least Brisbane can’t compare by an inch. It’s what makes America, well, America and so many other nations and cities envious. America has options, and a lot of them.

In Brisbane shops close at 5 or 6, there is no mid-week shopping – except one day a week allocated for “late night shopping”. What!?!? Not only in NYC, but also even in suburbia shops are open until at least 9. And there are options, so many options. There are cheap clothing stores with cheap clothes for cheap prices and cheap stores with decent clothes for cheap prices and expensive stores with cheap clothes and expensive stores with expensive quality.

When it comes to food you can’t even compare. 24 hour options, fast food, gourmet foods, trendy restaurants, hot dogs, pizza, donuts, cheesesteaks, hoagies, beer. Yum yum yum yum.

Minimum wage in the States is appalling. Many service works don’t receive incentive packages like healthcare and live solely by tips. With that, you expect attentive service and if you don’t get it many know the restaurant’s reputation and their tip will reflect. For me, 20% was standard. What’s great about tipping is you can incentive better service. What’s not great is you can spend a lot more then the cost of the meal shelving out those incentives. Because more customers mean more money, it’s not customary to take a table for a full evening. It’s in and out.

In Australia, many service workers make around $20 an hour. Tipping is only done if service is extraordinary and you want to thank a server for going above and beyond. Tipping is very rare. Although the food prices are higher, the atmosphere can be a bit more relaxed and you can take your time with your meal. That also means though that the servers have no incentive to provide exemplary service and at times this can be very frustrating.

I leave Australia again this week to head for America for a quick trip. What I’ve noticed has become a bit of a pattern is that for my first few days in the States I’m constantly making comparisons in my head to my life here in Brisbane. I’m grateful for the laid-back lifestyle and simplicity of things here. By the end of my trip after enjoying the luxuries of a fast paced lifestyle back in New York indulging in all its luxuries the tables turn. Oh the woes of living abroad.

Ethiopian Cuisine of Delights

If Ethiopia is one of the oldest locations of human existence known to scientists, then their food better be damn good.

I’ve been to the far north of Africa in Tangier, Morocco and to the very farthest tip of South Africa. But as of yet have missed out on all in between, including the eastern horn of Ethiopia. When friends were dining out for an authentic Ethiopian experience here in Brisbane, how could I not invite myself along?

Driving to Made in Africa Ethiopian Café and Restaurant in Moorooka, I was completely oblivious as to what to expect. While driving from Brisbane city center I was told that Moorooka was a suburb undergoing gentrification. I inquired about what they deemed to be a community with a need for such redevelopments. I could only scoff at the thought, despite high immigrant populations from the Middle East and Africa.

From my observation, Brisbane has a less culturally diverse population then other cities. Therefore gentrification is a concept I didn’t think existed here. I thought back to the organic-loving Jewish guy from Oregon I dated who lived in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn – also Jay-Z’s original hood. I was the only Caucasian person on the A train; let alone I needed to be escorted from the subway, and not because I’m dainty. He was the only white boy on the block with big dreams of opening a coffee shop at the cusp of the neighborhood reinventing itself, and he succeeded. Don’t talk to me about gentrification.

We found the small café-restaurant in a shopping center catering to other African restaurants, shoe shops and hair salons. My handsome and endearing friend walked his tall walk and claimed our reservation for 6 people upon entering. Aside from a table of three Sudanese regulars, we were the only customers on this Friday night. Reservations are recommended but not always necessary.

The place is no frills. A few cheap tables with plastic chairs, cheesy African decor, a painting of a topless black women on the wall, a map of Africa next to it, and some other trinkets tucked away in corners. Many of the mementos as well as spices and coffees are for sale through the sister company http://www.madeinafrica.com.au.

The menu, as thick as a wallet, gave the impression it was filled with pages upon pages of options. In reality it was one menu front and back; breakfast, lunch and dinner on one side, drinks on the other. The rest was filled with clear pages as a facade. The good news was options were limited and it was very cheap. We’ll have the lot!

The lovely host of an owner came to take our order, and we inquired about the handcrafted baskets nestled in the corners. We told him we wanted a traditional feast, and so he prepared a flat silver tray with the best on offer.

Ethiopian Cuisine of delights

Sitting on top of injera (Ethiopian flat bread), was a beautiful spread of Alicha Wot (mild beef stew sauted in onion and turetic), Tibes Wot (diced lamb sautéed in herbed butter sauce and seasoned with onion, green pepper, rosemary), Keye Wot (beef simmered in a red pepper sauce with garlic and cardamom), Doro Wot (chicken stew in red hot pepper sauce with hard boiled eggs), Gomen Wot (collard greens boiled with garlic and onions), Shiro Wot (split pea stew made from roasted and ground split peas), Yatakilt Wot (vegetables in rich fresh green cabbage, carrot, potato, green pepper and onions, sauted in garlic and ginger) and Lentils Stew (lentils with cardamom and onion). The plate was enormous and we each used just our hands to dip the injera into the various thick stews.

The website, keeping to traditions states, “Normally you break a piece of Injera and roll it in the Wat and put it in your own mouth, but sometimes you may tear a piece off, roll it in the Wat and place it in you friends mouth!”

Gebena (coffee)

We didn’t feed each other, however ended the night after a few St. Georges beers with a traditional coffee pot (gebena) of the most aromatic coffee I’ve yet to taste.

St. Georges

The experience left me filled to the max, with an appreciation for a cuisine I’ve never thought to try. All for a very cheap price might I add. We didn’t know, and therefore missed out on the hand washing and coffee ceremonies that are also options, but at least we have something to look forward to next time.

I expected the injera (bread) to be sour, but it was delicious. We weren’t sure if they could cater for our gluten free friend, but they did with rice. And I looked over to my friend who also has a bit of hard time getting down the spicy options and I challenged him to challenge his spice as I do. A little practice in time creates a new appreciation.

And we ate it all!

Safari Town, SA

When I think of safari, I imagine exotic destinations written about in high society travel magazines. I envision myself sipping wine in an outdoor bathtub overlooking the savannah as a fire burns quietly and there are endless shining stars in the sky for me to count. Every now and then I would perhaps hear a loud roar in the distance and then giggle to myself before indulging in chocolate-covered strawberries. These daydreams of being catered for on hand and foot, being served the most exquisite dishes, no rush of tourists, no commercial noise – they weren’t exactly my first safari experience but then again, they also weren’t too far-fetched.

There are thousands of safari destinations, camp sites, reserves, game parks and tours within South Africa from self-catering to luxury and choosing the right one, within our budget may have proved to be a challenge. See, I wanted the almighty picturesque safari and I was willing to pay for it – erm, as long as it didn’t cost more than $1,000 that is.

When it comes to South African safari the head honcho is Kruger National Park. Nearly 2 million hectares in size, or similarly the same size as Wales or Israel, Kruger is one of the most sought out destinations to view the Big 5 (lion, African elephant, Cape buffalo, leopard, and rhinoceros), as they are the most difficult animals to see in the wild. Because Kruger is open to the public, it means anyone can drive in for the day. Visitors must stick to the roads and cannot get out of their vehicles, which must be fully enclosed. The one advantage is if someone see’s something you immediately know it because the cars pile up each waiting their turn to view.

The alternative to Kruger is visiting a private reserve. On the private game reserves the landmass is a lot smaller and the number of animals is limited. But, the advantage is because it is private accessibility is restricted only to those who have a stake in the reserve. This means that depending on which you choose, you’re less likely to witness another vehicle and the rules are a bit more lenient. For example, you can take an open-air vehicle off the road and go directly up to the animals as well as under the appropriate conditions conduct walking safaris.

Elephant viewing on private game drive in Sabi Sands

So with all of this to consider, how on earth were we meant to choose? I found the website www.africanbudgetsafaris.com which helped us narrow down our options, taking into account our budget, time frame, and interests. At the end of our search we found the perfect match: 3 night/4 days with Tydon Safaris which combined not only Kruger National Park but also drives in the famous private game reserve Sabi Sands with stops along the Panoramic Route on our return to Johannesburg. The best of everything we wanted.

I had my outfits planned perfectly. Each day I would wear a different animal print. I mean, going on safari is literally a once in a lifetime must-do. If I am going to be one with the lions I would like to truly blend in. So that’s what I did.

Mark from Tydon picked Jaime and I up from our overnight accommodation Mo Africa in Johannesburg to begin our prolonged 6 hour journey north. The air conditioning in the mini-van was a relief from the northern heat as we settled in for our trip, making friends with the 2 young Irish couples also joining the safari. Another perk, Tydon only has a total of 6 tents so the personability of the tour was fantastic. On our way I sat in the front and inquisitively asked Mark every question under the sun about close animal encounters and safety. I was already starting to get a reputation as the uneasy one but didn’t mind a bit. Better safe than sorry if I came face to face with a lion! And with that, we stopped for lunch at the Wild Fig Tree Café, a little more than half way there in the small town of Sabie where I indulged in a traditional Afrikaans potjie.

A few hours further north we were driving along the Sabi Sands gate approaching our destination and instantly spotted a rhino just next to the fence. My heart began racing and the excitement set in as it finally dawned on me that, “My gosh, I’m on safari!’ A few minutes later we pulled into the Tydon Safari grounds to be greeted by owner Gavin and shown to our tents.

Let me be clear when I say tent. What I actually mean is a Harry Potter-esque tent. Tydon was the perfect option of affordable luxury, for normal people. Our large canvas tents contained two single beds with mosquito netting adding a scenic touch, carpet, luggage stands, and a bathroom housing a glass enclosed shower with porcelain sink and toilet to top it off. So there was no bathtub overlooking the savannah, that’s okay because there was air-conditioning. The modern day term for this is “glamping,” or glamorous camping.

Our humble abode

No time wasted, 4 pm sharp we boarded the jeep for our first drive. Although the jeep was fully open on top, no guns are required for the drives, only for walks. We began our journey into the bush, eyes glued to the wild seeking out whatever animals we would stumble across. That night we saw zebra, waterbuck, wildebeest, impala, kudu and various birds. At sundown the jeep pulled into an open area and we all got out to enjoy ‘sun downers’. Wine in hand, we watched the sun set, nibbling on dried meats and nuts, listening to the sounds of the wild around us. The backdrop was absolutely stunning.

Sundowners in Sabi Sands

Thank goodness there was a full moon that night because once the sun went down it was pitch black. One of the guides sat at the front of the jeep with a huge spotlight shining it into the woods while we were meant to keep our gaze out in case we came across something, the key being to look out for glowing eyes. It was almost peaceful, driving in almost complete darkness and silence. At times my mind would wander and it would take a second to snap back to reality before realizing I was in the middle of nowhere in Africa scouting for animals in the dark. At one point our guide shut the car off and we just sat there for a few minutes quietly in the darkness watching fireflies light up all around us. I’ve never witnessed anything so magical. The most striking highlight was coming across a giraffe silhouetted against the moon.

When we returned to camp the fire pit was lit and individual tables and chairs were arranged in a circle surrounding it. The owner Gavin joined us for a traditional Afrikaans meal as we sipped wine and shared stories around the camp fire. At that moment this was the fantastical safari I had always pictured coming to life. The night was short however as we had a 4:30 am rise for our next safari into Kruger the following morning.

Fireside dining

After our early rise we were met with tea and coffee before getting in our closed-top vehicle for Kruger. I was excited, as Kruger is meant to have the most diverse population of animals. On first sight it even appeared to look different then Sabi, with longer grass mixed with deeper bush. I mentally pressed play and the Lion King’s Hakuna Matata was on repeat in mind as we scoured the land for the Big 5. We were in luck because the radio called in a mama lion and some cubs not too far off!

Lioness with her cubs in Kruger National Park

I was surprised and impressed by Kruger. Because it is public I had expected the masses, almost like a larger version of Disney’s Animal Kingdom with oodles of tourists. Yes, we did see other cars and specifically at the lion there was a bit of a back log however for the rest of the day it was just us on the open road. We saw 4 out of the big 5 that day and made it our personal mission for the rest of the safari to come across a leopard. On this day we saw cheetah, rhino, elephant, lion, zebra, monkeys, giraffes, tortoise, buffalo, hippos and more impala. The hippos were not in tutus as I had secretly hoped from my childhood days watching Fantasia.

Playful Hippos

Every mosquito that I swatted or bite that I bitterly scratched my only thought was – Dear God, please don’t let it be malaria. Luckily, each night before going to bed Jaime and I would take our malaria medication as I would sing the song I wrote for the occasion, “Ma – ma – ma – malaria!” And it must have worked because we are both to this day malaria free.

On our last day at camp we were in for a real treat – a walking safari. This was typically only arranged for longer stays but we were fortunate enough that the schedule got changed for the week we were still there. Over dinners the previous nights I heard stories about cars being flipped over by elephants, poisonous snakes found under lounge cushions, rhino’s mauling hikers. Humph. “How safe is this walking safari,” I wondered and asked aloud.

Steve drove us out to Sabi and once out of the vehicle explained how it would work. He would lead in front, as he was the only person with a rifle, and we would follow single file with Jackie from Tydon taking the caboose. There was to be no talking. If you saw something you were to whistle. Easy enough I thought.

Steven and his gun on our safari walk

As we walked along we didn’t see much at first and Steve would stop every few minutes or so to describe a bird or bush or some other natural wonder. The idea of the walking safari is that we were in very low bush so we could see a wide radius around us. Shortly after moving along Steve had us stop as he took out his binoculars to evaluate the situation. Just as suspected Steve could see 3 rhino’s up ahead. The good news is we would get to experience this magnificent spectacle. The bad news is that if the rhinos caught wind of our smell we were in trouble. We were still a great distance away and Steve deemed it safe for us to travel a bit closer to get a better look.

Closer? What do you mean closer? But I followed the group and we inched our way close enough to see them not too far in the distance. We huddled behind a barren tree trunk, one person at a time allowed to step out to take a photo. But then Steve got a bit nervous. He felt the wind change and thought the rhinos may be able to smell us. We had to retreat.

As we were in low bush there weren’t many trees around for us to hide behind. Quickly, but without running or making any sudden movements we inched our way away from the dangerous animals. We wouldn’t be able to take the same route back to the jeep at this stage. Steve suggested we take a wide perimeter to play it safe. What?! How much potential danger are we actually in, Steve? Taking a wider perimeter meant that we would have to go deeper into the bush and wouldn’t have the safety of the low grass around us.

Steve walked ahead of us with the rifle out in front of him. Around various curves he would disappear for a few minutes then wave us on. He instructed everyone to be fully alert and look both left and right while walking. If you saw something, you were instructed to whistle and whistle loud. Seriously? This wasn’t ‘just in case’ anymore; we were actually walking through the African savannah. At any point there could have been a lion or leopard taking a snooze next to where we were about to walk. Thankfully it only lasted for about 15 minutes. We came across a young zebra aimlessly gallivanting at one stage which was a beautiful thing to watch. I was very thankful once we made it back to the jeep. Once in the jeep we were able to drive right up to the rhino, literally 10 feet away, the same ones that a mere hour before could have claimed our lives.

We had one more night safari that evening in the pouring rain. Of course I was anxious that we would get struck by lightning. Walking away from this experience was one of the most amazing things I had ever done. Until coming to South Africa it hadn’t previously occurred to me how adventure stricken and fear facing this trip would be but I walked away with a smile on my face and new confidence gained.

Animal Highlights:

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Becoming shark bait

Contemplating life (Courtesy of Jaime)

Sitting on the edge of the small boat, I kept my gaze in front of me on the clear turquoise water. Every few minutes or so I’d hear a shout to “look left” or “get down, look far right,” but it wasn’t intended for me. At least not just yet. Despite taking seasick tablets both the evening before and that very morning, I used all of my concentration to ignore the swaying of the boat from the rough sea. I knew my turn would be coming soon but in the meantime I took notice of what the others did; watching with precision to ensure I knew what I was getting myself into. Before I knew it the skipper called out “Group 5 suit up.”

That was our queue and Jaime and I walked over to one of the ship assistants who handed us a soggy wet suit. I slowly peeled off my shirt and shorts down to my bathing suit. One foot at a time, into the heavy wet costume, until I was I zipped up to my neck looking like a bloated seal. Just perfect, I looked like shark bait.

Trying to blend in(courtesy of Jaime)

After leaving the wine lands Jaime and I began a 5 day road trip from Cape Town up to Port Elizabeth. The majority of our destinations were planned along the Garden Route but first we had to make a quick pit stop along the Western Cape to partake in this jaw-dropping, adrenaline rushing mission. Known for being one of the most scenic drives in all of Africa, what was meant to be a relaxing road trip – driving stretches of road sandwiched between mammoth, breathtaking mountains on our left, and a drastic landscape of the Indian Ocean to our right – turned into what I like to call “Adventure Town SA.” Even the baboons showed up again to cause some traffic jams on the semi-vacant highway.

Our first drive was about 2 hours from Paarl to the famous whale-watching seaside town of Hermanus. A cute little downtown comprised of a market in the middle of the historic Old Harbor selling African mementos like jewellery, paintings and wooden carvings. Restaurants lined the side-streets with a variety of cuisines, but everyone specialized in fresh seafood. Jaime and I lunched at Burgundy right on the waterfront, sipping crisp South African white wine, each of us wrapped up in a warm blanket to fight off the ocean breeze.

Taking notes during lunch at Burgundy (Courtesy of Jaime)

All along the harbor tourists stood out facing the ocean, binoculars glued to their eyes and fingers on the shutter waiting to catch a glimpse of the Southern Right Whales making their journey south. We were lucky that they were still there at the end of November, just the final countdown of their migration before moving on, however I guess we could consider ourselves unlucky that we saw diddly squat despite our best efforts.

Our accommodation in Hermanus was by far the best B&B we stayed at on our quick road trip. 16 Reasons Guesthouse was a small 5 bedroom property that just opened the month before. Owners Ken and Gay from Johannesburg are now spending their retirement entertaining the likes of holiday makers in a beautiful, simple setting of clean white bungalows, a small shallow pool and complimentary breakfast made to order. The homemade muesli with yogurt and honey was by far the best breakfast treat I’ve had in a long while. Ken recommended Jaime and I hit up the local Gecko Bar that evening in the New Harbor, where we sat amongst the townies sipping pints and playing rummy. I would recommend anyone visiting in Hermanus stay at 16 Reasons Guesthouse.

Shark Lady Adventures

The next morning we drove 45 minutes north to Kleinbaai to meet Shark Lady Adventures for our Great White cage dive. Gulp. We walked into the headquarters just in time to hear a group of Americans, who would also be joining our dive, make jokes about Texans. We slowly inched our way into the group but shyly kept to the back debating whether we should speak up and defend Jaime’s home State.

After being called up to bat and putting on our wetsuits, I approached the edge of the boat and took a handful of deep breaths. We went through the safety briefing prior to heading out to sea and I can rest assured that all precautions have been implemented. A metal cage which can fit 4 people leans against the side of the boat. The metal bars criss-cross and leave about a foot wide opening between each set of bars – big enough to put your hand or foot through, but small enough to restrict a shark’s face. Inside the outer cage is a set of bars at chest level, and another bar about two feet under where my feet stop floating. Between those bars and the outer cage is foam cushioning to keep the cage afloat, but only on the very top.

Into the cage!

I’m the last one to climb in and I can feel panic setting in. I now officially look like a bloated seal having a seizure. Once I’m submerged all I have to do is say the word and they’ll assist me – that is as long as there isn’t a shark just in front of the cage! I face my fear and get in the water as they shut the metal bars over our heads. My hands clasp the chest-level bar and they have us do a test. As we’re just wearing eye masks, we’re meant to hold our breaths, grabbing onto the top bar while hooking our feet under the lower one. That is meant to keep us weighed down as we survey the water for the sharks. I couldn’t reach the lower bar with my feet so just had to make do, taking caution that none of my limbs accidently float out of the holes in the cage. We raised our heads out of the water after a few seconds and gave the clear that we were all okay. Then it’s time to start for real!

We were even closer than this at times (Courtesy of Jaime)

The skipper stands out on a small plank and throws a giant baited fish head out to the sea in front of us. As we’re the last group to go, just 3 of us out of the 19 on the boat, the sharks already have the hang of it. Before we know it he’s yelling “down now, to your left”, and a massive Great White sails by our faces protected by the cage bars. Now that was exhilarating! After a few minutes in the water I completely regain my calm and start to enjoy the experience. These creatures are actually quite calm; not at all the man eating Jaws I had always envisioned. In between shark visitors, we casually float with our heads out of the water, our feet treading in the open sea. Looking out I see a dark shadow approaching then massive teeth flaring towards us as the shark jumps out of the water to snatch the fish head. I let out a huge, “ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Now that is what I call frightening.

Quick 10 second You Tube videos of the sharks and us in the cage
Baiting the shark: http://youtu.be/_WcVVGTJMmA
Jaime and Lisa in the cage: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oq9foAzSnQQ

As we carried on for about 20 minutes in the water the sea began to change as the day grew later. Unfortunately for us, it changed for the worse and visibility got really poor. At times sharks were nearly up against the cage, but all I could see was a massive grey blob. I think if the visibility were better it would have been a whole lot more intimidating to look one of those big guys in the eye.

I don’t normally go in the ocean. In fact, I have a pretty strict rule of “not past the knees.” I mean, I live in Sharkville, Australia for crying out loud. But before Australia even, South Africa is the shark capital of the world. That day I conquered one of my worst fears. And would you believe me if I told you I’d do it again?

Us in our glory afterwards! (Courtesy of Jaime)

Shark Lady Adventures provided warm soup and bread for the tour group after we returned to land. The 19 of us sat around sipping our soup and watching the video and photos from the days adventure. After we left I was feeling pumped with adrenaline from my recent accomplishment and decided it was time to keep it alive. I turned to Jaime and said, “I think it’s my turn to drive, let me give her a spin around the block.” Yup, after 6 years of not driving and never have driven on the left hand side of the road my shark diving adventure had given me the confidence to get behind the wheel.

Just as suspected it was like riding a bike. I began our longest leg of our trip to Mossel Bay, where the Garden Route begins. The landscape was unsuspecting, going from serene mountain ranges to rolling hills. I felt like I could have been in middle America as bales of hay and tumbleweeds went by. The trickiest part of all was managing South African driving. We’d be stuck behind a truck going 80 in a 120 kilometer zone at the same time being passed by a car going 170, all while dodging the random people who walk the highways testing their luck. Just before we approached the lacklustre town of Mossel Bay I saw my first Zebra and Springbok. I was definitely looking forward to seeing where the next few days on our road trip would lead us.

The open road (Courtesy of Jaime)

Cape Town

Relaxing on the patio at The Backpack, an urban hostel in the center of Cape Town, the sun beamed hard on my face and despite the sweat seeping into my dress I pressed on. Its hard work but I embraced the heat and got on with my mission. I will get tan. Reading J. Maarten Troost’s Getting Stoned with Savages I pictured myself on the island of Vanuatu at the same time all while the Dutch guy sitting next to me interrupted at various intervals to ask about my travels. I was deep into my Kindle book again when I heard the front gate close and a voice I recognized enthusiastically shout “Lisa!!!! We’re in South Africa!” Jaime had finally arrived.

The Backpack

I looked up briefly, wiped the sweat from my brow and replied passively, “Oh, hey dude.” Despite my excitement to finally meet up with my travel partner half way around the world, her arriving from New York and me from Australia, it took a few minutes to actually sink in.

I had disembarked the evening before so had slept off my jet lag and already ventured about the city a bit that morning. After waking and not wanting to indulge in an activity that I know she would want to partake in too, the hospitable receptionist suggested I spend the time at the Old Biscuit Mill markets. They’re only open on Saturday and close by 1 pm so I was in luck, she wouldn’t have been able to go at another point on our trip anyway.

Lucky for me two Norwegian sisters were awaiting a cab for the very same place so I asked them if they minded if I tagged along. I had yet to venture out into town so wasn’t really sure how it all worked, taxis, tipping, walking alone etc so as long as they didn’t mind I was going to join.

Delectable olives

Arts & Crafts

Trendy Shopping

Free Range African Meat

Trailer Park Tea

Creative Cupcakes!

I didn’t know what to expect but being in Africa and hearing the word market I had assumed it would be some sort of bazaar selling African trinkets. I love me some trinkets. It turned out that the Old Biscuit Mill is an old mill converted into trendy boutique stores and eateries, with food stalls selling the likes of fresh coconuts to gourmet cupcakes, stinky cheeses to delectable meats, olives and mushrooms and sandwiches made to order. More or less, a foodie’s version of heaven. Interestingly enough, it also is a place where the chic and fabulous spend their Saturday afternoons sipping beers and catching up with friends. Yes, South African hipsters do exist. Who knew?

The following day Jaime and I embarked on an adventure that I can honestly say was the most physically challenging thing I had ever done – we climbed Table Mountain. Depending on whom you ask about their experience, or lack of, about climbing the flat-topped Cape Town landmark you’re bound to get different responses. Some snickered at the idea of us taking 2.5 hours to reach the summit via Platteklip Gorge, the most direct and shortest route of 3 kilometers, while others showed their shock and admiralty as they themselves have only reached the summit by the tourist shuffler known as the Table Mountain Aerial Cableway that races from the bottom up when the weather cooperates.

The view from the top of the Table Mountain Cable Way

We prepared with 3 large bottles of water, some fresh fruit, a salad and some cheese and crackers to picnic on once we reached the top. I bent down and performed a few stretches, we snapped some photos at the onset and then we were off! 5 steps in I said, “Um, is it just me or you out of breath already too?” Jaime at least had been training for the NYC Marathon that unfortunately got canceled due to Hurricane Sandy; I had been training by lifting the pint glass to my mouth and dining out multiple times a week.

Jaime climbing along meets some other hikers

Trekking up was breathtaking as we stomped from rock to rock admiring flowing waterfalls, striking fauna and even little surprise critters that jumped out on occasion. With each steep step up, the views of Cape Town got more and more stunning. A half hour in I’m feeling mighty proud looking out but how naive I was about how much further we still had to go. Mistake # 1 may have been departing the base at 1 pm, sun at its peak, temperature in the mid 30’s Celsius, nearly 90’s Fahrenheit. Lathering on sunscreen at break times, which honestly was less then every ten minutes, I was starting to feel the burn in more than one sense of the word. At a few points I was dizzy and felt faint. Yes, breaks were good and I was grateful we brought the fruit to supplement the sugar bleeding out of our pours.

Snacking, enjoying the view

During our break times those descending the mountain would give us words of encouragement like “great job, you’re half way there!” Actually, it seemed as if no matter how much further we climbed the next person we passed would enthusiastically tell us we were half way there. Hmm, it didn’t help me feel any closer to the top. Then someone said, “Your nearly there, and there’s beers up there too!” Talk about motivation. Eventually 2.5 hours from the start, with defeated breath, dirty hands and a poor sun tan we had reached the summit!

We finally reached the top!

Table Mountain provides one Africa’s most impressive views. Looking down from the top you can span Cape Town to the Camps Bay beaches to Lion’s Head mountain and Robben Island. Perched over one of the edges Jaime and finally relaxed, took in the epic scenery, and chowed down on our picnic. We calmly watched a climber abseil the side of the mountain munching on cheese and crackers. Tourists scrambled all over the plateau to admire the views, dine at the eatery and shop at the gift store. I felt small and defeated sitting on that ledge looking out, but damn proud looking around knowing that none of the fanny-pack wearing German tourists had any idea what we just did. It was magnificent.

On top of the world!

Coincidently one of Jaime’s colleagues from an investment bank in New York was also in town with 3 other New York investment bankers. It was nice to have some acquaintances to socialize with so we met them in trendy Camps Bay for dinner that night. Lit up, streets lined with palm trees parallel to the ocean it looked as if we could be in California or Miami Beach. We watched the sun set against the backdrop of Table Mountain and it was absolutely spectacular. For a Sunday evening, Café Caprice was off the walls, lines down the street, music pumping. It didn’t seem like we were going to get in any time soon so we found a lovely little tapas bar where we sipped fine wine and made friendly conversation with the New York boys.

Camps Bay on a Sunday night

At this point on our trip it was time to educate ourselves a bit more on the culture. That evening we ended up on Long Street, the Bourbon Street of Cape Town with bright neon lights, club music, and street hustlers. The next morning it was off to Robben Island, which is Dutch for Seal Island, to get a better understanding of the history of South Africa.

Our Robben Island Tour Guide

After arriving at Robben Island by ferry, the tour began with all passengers boarding buses to separate everyone into smaller groups. Half of the tour was conducted on the bus in which the guide shared information about the history of the island and pointed out a few historical landmarks before getting everyone up to speed on island life as it is today. The other part was on foot, where we were led about the prison by a former prisoner who depicted what life was like living on Robben Island, a place that the final prisoners left as recent as 1996. At one point former President Nelson Mandela spent close to 20 years imprisoned there amongst other political activists fighting against Apartheid. Although the tour was fascinating, I left feeling a bit empty, as if critical details were left out, especially for tourists who don’t know the full history of the Apartheid era.

Group dinner at Bukhara

This was our last full day in Cape Town so we spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the tourist haven V&A Waterfront. We dined on delectable sushi from Caviar for lunch, and then after the tour we roamed the tourist shops and big name retailers. That evening was our last dinner with the New York boys so they booked us in for Indian at the fine dining restaurant Bukhara. $30 each got us a spread of the best dishes accompanied by multiple bottles of wine. You can’t go wrong with the conversion rate these dates.

As it was our last evening as well, Mercury Live & Lounge was meant to be the hot place for a Tuesday. Apparently it’s the hot place for 18 year-old college students. We didn’t fit in well considering the mid-thirties men we were with had their collared shirts contrasting university boys in skinny jeans. Was it also that we were feeling our age too? That music was just so darn loud! That left only one option of The Dubliner on popular Long Street for some good old fashion one-man-band jam set and draft beer.

After checking out of our hostel, we were back on South African time waiting nearly 1.5 hours to get our car rental from Avis. We were both a bit apprehensive as it had been about 6 years since either of us really properly drove. At least Jaime had a leg up on me for actually driving once on the left hand side of the road in the UK, but then again that was still five years ago. No more than ten minutes into our drive leaving the city center I felt a whoosh then heard a hard smack. Yup, that was the passenger side mirror. In a panic I urged her to keep going as we could deal with any damage to the vehicle at a later date, but we were lucky there wasn’t even a scratch.

Boulder’s Beach

From there we drove to Cape Point, snapped pictures of huge rock structures at Boulder’s Beach and witnessed penguins shuffle themselves across the sand before driving to meet old friends in Paarl in the center of the wine lands (read about it here). It was day 4 and already we had experienced so much – from adrenaline rushes climbing Table Mountain to evening socializing with the New York boys to a history lesson at Robben Island.

Stay tuned to hear about our next leg on the Garden Route and then our Safari adventure.

Dear United

I’m hoping you may be able to provide some clarity on some details of your international flight routes. Specifically, customer comforts such as in-flight entertainment and refreshments? I thank you in advance for reading, despite the length of my letter, as I think it’s important that you hear my story. I’ve also shared my story with the readers of my travel blog www.thesetwoeyes.com and look forward to disclosing your feedback with them as well.

Firstly, I’d like to acknowledge the economic situation and the impact it has had on the airline industry. As a fellow person in business, day-to-day I see various industries shifting and shuffling trying to make ends meet to keep afloat. Those that I value the most are the companies that look to the future and acknowledge customers’ needs, rather than cut corners to hit hard budgets. In all business, customer loyalty and word of mouth can fortunately or unfortunately make or break you.

In the United States we’ve seen trends such as this take over the industry and for much of Europe as well. The airlines that get the most praise are those that are doing something different than the rest and give the perception that they’re customer focused; airlines such as Jet Blue and Southwest come to mind. Internationally, there are handfuls of airlines aspiring back to the days where it used to be a privilege to fly; as a customer on a plane you were treated with respect for your time and loyalty, even in economy. I’ve experienced this myself on Qantas, Emirates, Thai Airways, Air New Zealand, British Airways and others.

As a loyal Continental flyer for a number of years, I can honestly say that I looked forward to flying domestically. With Newark Liberty International Airport being a fantastic hub for a northern New Jersey resident, I always made Newark and Continental my primary choice for flying both business and leisure. I found the service hospitable, the planes in tidy condition, and even appreciated the small snacks like the turkey sandwiches. This truly gave them a competitive edge while others were taking away perks such as complimentary baggage and even soft drinks.

When Continental merged with United I got a bit nervous; what could this mean for my favourite airline? I found out too soon after cashing in my hard earned miles for a flight from Newark to Sydney, Australia in November 2010. As a frequent international flyer, I was astonished at what I found on the other end of the jet-way. I’d like to acknowledge that yes, I did cash in my miles and despite the taxes this flight could be classified as “complimentary” however I do not think any service should be downgraded due to this.

My thoughts from November 2010 flying United LA to Sydney

I have my notes from that flight still today. I was so uncomfortable with my experience that I took the time to write them down and it’s unfortunate that I’ve waited this long to notify you. What is most interesting is that on my flight from Newark to LA I had a fantastic experience. The plane was in impeccable condition and I had an empty seat between my window seat and my neighbour in the aisle. I was surprised and grateful that I had my own in-flight entertainment in the seat in front which made the long journey go by pleasantly; something that was not expected for a domestic flight. I remember specifically thinking to myself to not watch any of the good movies yet, I’ll save them for the long haul flight on my next leg.

From LA to Sydney is where my real complaint comes in. The plane was dated and the interior was in poor condition. I didn’t feel as if it were going to fall apart, however I am always comfortable in the interiors of Virgin and British Airways and expected the same conditions (if not better) for an even longer haul, especially the leg room. I thought to myself, how was my domestic flight superior to this?

My biggest disappointment had come with the entertainment. The last time I’d been on an international flight in economy where the entire plane had to squint to watch the same program, as there were no personal entertainment systems, was on an Olympic Air in 2008, and despite their bankruptcy, I swore to never fly with them again. With average meals and no complimentary alcoholic beverages it makes me wonder how United can stay in business against the likes of Virgin Australia and Qantas on this same route?

I am now residing in Australia and take the international flight from Brisbane to New York, or some similar combination whether it be from Sydney or to Philadelphia, a handful of times a year. I am very loyal to Qantas due to their service, professionalism, entertainment, efficiency, and refreshments being above par. So much that I rave about them quite regularly on my blog www.thesetwoeyes.com. In fact, I make a point to ask every person I meet who has travelled via LA to Australia what airline they took. Before even answering I know by their expression if was United. It’s a common joke amongst cross-Pacific travellers that if you have a United flight, you might as well not even go because it’s anticipated to be that bad.

As the holidays are approaching I’m returning to the US on another long haul flight. I cannot express the intensity of my disappointment when the only option within my budget during overpriced holiday season was with United. I write this to you because I don’t want to have the panic that I felt when I spent over $3,000 on a flight and already anticipate a horrible experience. I am not cheap, I will pay for a bottle of wine or sandwich if that is what is required however after already paying $3,000 this is completely unnecessary. And as far as entertainment goes, I think your flight crew may have a more pleasant time if their customers were distracted and content watching what suited them on a personal level rather than overhearing their neighbour snoring because they can’t see the communal television.

I can appreciate that all of these may sound like superficial complaints but for a frequent flyer who enjoys flying, who looks forward to the experience and has praise for many airlines that get the formula right, I’m asking you, United, when are you going to lead the pack? Or as a minimum, improve your services to be on par with your direct competitors? What are you doing about in-flight entertainment, service, leg room, and refreshments for long haul flights?

An Australian colleague recently said to me, “We look to the United States as a global leader, as someone who always has the best. How is it that flying a US airline is one of the worst experiences a traveller could have?”

Thank you for reading this lengthy letter. I do anticipate your response and look forward to hearing about how my experience and future travels will be improved.

Kind Regards,

Lisa

Please take my poll below.

A lekker reunion

In the summer of 2006 I was introduced to a culture I never knew existed. Whilst living in London an American friend had befriended a colleague who invited us to a South African bar in Leytonstone called Zulus (now unfortunately the Red Lion). It seemed like nearly every South African in London flocked to East London where they could bunch up 12 people in a 3 person flat and pay cheap rent – so Zulus was perfectly situated.

Zulus was a hole in the wall where Afrikaans from across London would meet regularly, braii (BBQ) next to the sand volleyball courts out the back, and sip on Savanna’s. Downstairs was a pub decorated in African trinkets with zebra fabric and wooden statues. Upstairs the club got too rowdy for my liking. At Zulus, you’re more likely to hear Afrikaans spoken over English. And it became our world.

From there slowly but shortly my close friends and I became dear friends with a household of South Africans. There were 6 guys and 3 girls living in poorly reputed Forest Gate in East London, and about 45 minutes west on the Tube sat our sad dwelling otherwise known as the Crack House on the cusp of posh Maida Vale and decrepit Kilburn Park. We were similarly 5 girls and 3 boys shacked up into 4 bedrooms.

Nearly every weekend we made the trip east, or vise versa, and became immersed in their South African customs. Days were spent laying in the sun, braiiing over wood boards in the backyard and learning how to say Afrikaans sayings like Hoe gaan dit? and lekker. At night, it was off to Zulus where we would be a select few American girls trying our Afrikaans out on foreign boys and dancing the traditional, ballroom-esque dance of langarming. Other weekends a handful of them would shack up at ours, bodies sprawled out on couch cushions haphazardly on the floor after hosting our traditions of an American BBQ with red Solo cups and beer pong.

Christmas 2006 was my first Christmas away from home. Although sad to be away from friends and family, my best friend Emily and I couldn’t have had a better second option spending Christmas in Forest Gate amongst a plethora of South Africans who cooked us a traditional feast before heading off to Zulus and dancing the night away. Just 5 months later our Visa’s had expired and we had to head back to the States. Saying goodbye to our colleagues and closest American friends was hard, but saying goodbye to the South Africans was equally as depressing. We swore one day we’d make it to South Africa to see them again and experience their culture in their own country.

Prior to meeting them I had encountered a few South African whilst living in London in 2003 and Scotland in 2005, but experiencing the Afrikaans culture was very new to me. Friends and family at home curiously questioned when I told them about my new friends whether they were black or white. The ignorance of white African’s living in Africa was not assumed. Do they make clicking noises when they speak? I had never before heard of Apartheid – how is it that us Americans have been so sheltered from far-off monumental global affairs? I don’t recall my high-school history class going into detail about Nelson Mandela and the race struggle that is still so apparent today.

Since returning from London, both myself and my good friend Jaime have ventured overseas nearly every year continuing our travel legacies. This past November was the year, and Jaime and I prepared for our trip to South Africa. With only 16 days to make the most of an enormous country we planned and detailed our route. We’d spend a handful of days in the cosmopolitan of Cape Town, where mountains and sea create a unique city like none I’ve experienced anywhere before. From there, we’d drive to the wine lands to meet up with our old friends the boys, before road tripping the Garden Route on the Eastern Cape and ending with a 4 day safari in Sabi Sands and Kruger National Park.

Prior to arriving I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was told Johannesburg was a dangerous city, ranked 50 on the global scale and even walking around during the day was unadvisable, so we chose not to spend time there. A ranking of 50 is bad, but my college city of Baltimore is rated worse. Carjacking and mugging is common in general apparently, and the police are corrupt. You’re better off paying off a cop to avoid a night in the slammer then facing what’s on the other side.

With blacks as the majority they rule the country. But did that mean we necessarily should have something to fear? Many acquaintances we met along our travels were bitter – with the Black Economic Empowerment (BEE) program stating that those disadvantaged by Apartheid are given preference for jobs before a white person – our friends fled to London in their 20s claiming there was no work and earning the pound allowed for a solid sum to send home to their families. In South Africa, a black person is black, a mixed person is colored, and Indians and some Chinese are classified under this rule. Saying your black or white isn’t taboo. You don’t look over your shoulder wondering if someone overheard and thinks you’re being racist. It is reality and government decisions are based on race. With that said, many question current policy leaders.

The reality for us then constituted, what is safe? Are we supposed to tip toe around and fear everything and everyone? What happened to giving the benefit of the doubt first, and judging second? This was a topic Jaime and I discussed in detail every night before we went to bed. Even locals say they fear walking the streets. Is this all a bit of paranoia or is it really as bad as they say?

Amongst the various travelers we met on our journey, from a middle-aged Afrikaans couple, to Irish sweethearts, a young South African miner to random people on the street – it was always a topic of conversation. “Two young white girls like you have to be careful.” “Don’t stop for anyone, lock your doors every time you get in the car, and hide the GPS.” “Take a taxi, even though its two blocks, always take a taxi.” Ultimatley, we opted for better safe than sorry. But I still question, is that a way to live? We felt it from the bottom of the country all the way to the top. In the end however, the people we met from tour operators to restaurant owners to taxi drivers to people in bars, the South Africans provided a warm and interesting experience.

L&J and Cape Point

On our fourth day we rented a car in Cape Town and headed to Cape Point, one of the most southerly points in Africa. I let Jaime do the driving at the onset and played navigator often providing friendly reminders about being on the other side of the road despite the GPS as we headed south. By the time we reached Cape Point the fog and rain had cleared and we hiked to the top of the lighthouse, weary of the Beware of Baboon signs sticking out from the bush. The guys had warned us to leave early, the 3 of them calling throughout the day pressing how horrific Cape Town traffic could be. But at this point, we were already late.

Baboons!

Driving out from the Cape Point lighthouse traffic was a stand still. Would you believe it? Baboons! A truck was stopped just two cars ahead and had baboons hanging off its passenger side. Others aimlessly walked in the road, then scurried into the bush with a baby clinging to its chest. We sat there for about 15 minutes, snapping photos and admiring the vulgar, aggressive animals. Yup, we were definitely going to be late.

Finally, hours later we arrived at our old friend Cedric’s house in Paarl, situated in the center of the beautiful wine lands. Standing in the driveway awaiting our arrival with a beer in his hand, I nearly cried when he picked me up and spun me around. “I know you like beers,” he said, and we went inside.

After a bit of catching up, we were desperately late arriving to the braii at Jacques after 8 pm. Then again, we were on South African time. Being with Ced and his wife Althea, Jacques and Felicity and their new daughter Mackenzie, and Derek and his girlfriend felt like old times in London. We sat for hours reminiscing about the these times – each of us remembering different stories in a variety of detail. I even thanked them for speaking English with us around, as it is their second language. By the time the braii got going, and man do South Africans like their meat, it was after 10 pm on a Tuesday night. They say South Africa comes second to Argentina when it comes to meat consumption.

Old friends, good times

Since leaving London at some point over the past 6 years we’ve all grown up a bit, but it still was as if none of the important stuff had changed. The guys are all married now, in their mid-thirties, and Jaime and I despite our cubicle-life, Ced’s right, we do like beers.

Paarl winelands

The following morning Ced and Althea took the day off of work to tour us around the wine region. From Paarl to Stellenbosch we took our time sampling wine and cheese from 4 different wineries, while Ced kindly did the driving. I was delighted to be introduced to pinotage, a South African red staple, which a bottle from Rhebokskloof Estate had to come with me.

Snoek!

That evening, we sat around the braii in the front yard as Ced cooked the snoek, a common fish found in the southern hemisphere and we had another late dinner relaxing in the summer breeze. The next morning, saying good bye was sad, it all went so fast. From here on out we were on our own in South Africa again, and Jaime and I began our road trip on the Garden Route, just her and I on the open road.

Stay tuned for upcoming posts on Cape Town, the Garden Route, and our African Safari.

Road tripping to Good Hope FM

Come dressed in your croquet best

Come dressed in your croquet best, or it’s off with your head!

‘Get to your places!’ shouted the Queen in a voice of thunder, and people began running about in all directions, tumbling up against each other; however, they got settled down in a minute or two, and the game began. Alice thought she had never seen such a curious croquet-ground in her life; it was all ridges and furrows; the balls were live hedgehogs, the mallets live flamingoes, and the soldiers had to double themselves up and to stand on their hands and feet, to make the arches.” – Alice and Wonderland, Lewis Carroll.

My first croquet experience wasn’t nearly as abstract as the game played in Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland. The mallets were traditional square or round pieces of wood, the balls colored blue, red, black and yellow, and the arches white metal posts. There was no Queen running around screaming “off with your head” in a jealous rage, but there was definitely merriment being celebrated for Nidya and John’s 29^th birthdays.

Me and John on the grounds

I wasn’t sure what to expect when the invitation called for a game of Gin and Croquet on a Sunday afternoon. I don’t drink gin and I’ve never played croquet, but there’s always a first for everything. To make the day even more exotic, guests were invited to dress to impress. “You must come dressed in your croquet best, be it 20’s, cricket whites, bowler hats or pipes – I don’t care. Dress to impress my bloomers off.” Now, that to me sounded like a challenge.

The day was hosted at Stephens Croquet Club in Annerley. Yes, croquet clubs actually do exist. In fact, Stephens was just one option of a few in the area. Seriously. But I couldn’t be more pleased with our experience. When we first arrived 4 elderly people were sat out front on the bench welcoming us. My initial thought was that these poor people are here for their Sunday regular, and they’re going to be disappointed when then find a rambunctious birthday party ruining their quiet tradition. But that was not the case.

For $15 each person got a go at a game of croquet. Before we got started one of the gentlemen from the Club asked everyone to gather round as he explained how the day would work and we’d all get a chance to play what he pronounced ‘croke-e’. The Club grounds were divided into four courts, with four people playing at each so a total of 16 people could play at once. The four lovely people who were seated outside the Club when I first arrived in fact were volunteers for the day. Each took a group of four over to their designated court and walked us through a simplistic version of an abridged game.

Gail showing Louise technique

My group of four was split with myself and fellow New Jersian Noble on a team playing against Louise and birthday boy John on the other. Our instructor Gail, explained how we work the arches around the four corners of the court first, before moving into the two center arches and finishing by hitting the ball against the wooden stick in the very center. She then explained that the balls go in order of blue, red, black and yellow alternating teams and John being the birthday boy won the coin toss and got to go first. With a few practice swings of holding the mallet between our legs and giving it a good wack, we were on our way.

Gail telling Noble where to put it

I have to give a special shout out to Gail who strategically worked us through various techniques. In fact, our game lasted about 2 hours, the longest of the day as two or three other games finished by the time my group got through one. Sad to say Noble and I lost, but luckily we got one in through the arch at the very end.

Happy Birthday Nidya and John

Gin, birthday cake, sausages on the grill and outfits ranging from all whites with suspenders to visors and colorful frocks, I found a new appreciation for a sport I never thought I’d play – croquet.

Some dressed to impess highlights:

The King and Queen of Croquet

Noble – I didnt win – McNaughton

Cutest couple alert – Susan and Henry

Mr. Guy Frawley himself

Road Tripping

On September 26, 2012 my New Jersey state driver license expired. For months leading up to this day anxiety had been seeping in. I doubt I’ll ever drive again, I thought.

It began back in 2006. Yes, I know, 6 whole years ago! I cleaned out the interior of my Hyundai Elantra hatchback, parked it at the top of the drive, locked the doors and barley looked back. Mere hours later I was on a plane to London where I’d live for the next 12 months. Public transport became my haven. It felt like nearly every other weekend I was catching a bus at 4 am to a remote airport to fly a budget airline to a random European city where I would hop on a train to get downtown where Id ride a ferry down the river to admire the views and then walk back to my hostel. Yes, public transportation very much so became my haven.

Arriving at Salzburg Airport in 2006

I returned to the US in April 2007 and took my good old hatchback for a few spins around southern New Jersey while painfully interviewing for jobs. But just one month later I relocated up north, and became one of them city folk. A Car! What car? All I heard amongst the sirens and horn beeps was hassle.

City parking meant street cleaning on the 4^th day at 3^rd hour of the week each month. And who wants to move their car every week? Or drive around the block 15 times until your head explodes and you start imagining that your car is smaller than it really is and maybe, just maybe it will fit in between the yellow lines very close to the fire hydrant but really, what are the chances they’ll need to use it today? But it doesn’t fit anyway. No way I say. See you for good Hyundai Elantra.

So I got a bike. And I loved it. And I rode it to work every day. Up the hills, on the sidewalks, to the bars, and safely locked it out front of the gate next to my brownstone’s stoop. And nearly every other weekend for someone’s birthday, engagement, shower, wedding, fiesta, just because I’m your friend/related to you I was on the Bolt Bus traveling from 34^th and 8^th in Manhattan to the parking lot of Red Lobster outside the Cherry Hill Mall. It costs $12, has leather seats and free Wi-Fi, and beats battling my own personal road rage. Back in town though I took the subway, and cabs, and my own two feet when not on bicycle. And it worked. For four whole years.

My sweet cruiser

Then in May 2011 I arrived in Brisbane. And I said again, a car, no way! Not me…I haven’t driven in years. You don’t want me driving on the other side of the road anyway. So I take two buses to work. It takes 30 minutes, but if I walk home it takes 45. I also take the train, rarely the ferry, and too often a much overpriced cab. And it seems to go okay.

Why Not Street Bus Stop, West End, Brisbane

But then September 26 started approaching. I searched high and low the New Jersey DMV’s website and it seemed impossible to get a license renewed when living abroad on a foreign visa. So then then I thought I’d renew it when back in the States last, but then I realized I’m ‘technically’ now a resident of Pennsylvania, and that’s a whole other piece of sticky red tape. So, I came to terms with the fact that I may never drive in the foreseeable future. Or at least, in order to do so I may actually have to take the driver’s test again. Gulp.

Who knew though, apparently the people who informed me did, that getting a Queensland driver license was as simple as pie? It’s okay that I haven’t driven in 6 years, and have never driven on the left hand side of the road, and cannot drive a manual car. I walked into their Department of Transport, handed over my passport and nearly expired New Jersey license, paid $250 for a 5 year licence, and wallah! I am still a licensed driver for the next 5 years now under an Australian driver’s license. But, you’re not allowed to smile. They’re very strict about this one element of it.

Next week the true test comes into to play. I’m traveling to South Africa, have a reservation booked for Avis rent-a-car and will be road tripping the Garden Route from Cape Town to Port Elizabeth with a friend. A friend, who very similarly moved to London in 2006 (pictured with me at the Salzburg airport in fact), and has been living in Manhattan ever since. What I’m getting at is that we’re in the same boat. The good news is they say it’s just like riding a bike, something I’m proud to say I am very good at!

Stay tuned to hear all about it…

Degustation Sensation

Microsoft’s Encarta Dictionary is not familiar with the word degustation, degust or degusting. The dictionary must not be a foodie.

All those contributors to Wikipedia know it though. “Degustation is a culinary term meaning a careful, appreciative tasting of various foods and focusing on the gustatory system, the senses, high culinary art and good company. Dégustation is more likely to involve sampling small portions of all of a chef’s signature dishes in one sitting. Usually consisting of eight or more courses, it may be accompanied by a matching wine degustation which complements each dish.”

And there you have it, the art of degusting. It’s not disgusting at all. It’s delicious.

For my recent birthday I put a message up asking who would be willing to fork over $150 for a degustation wine pairing at a place high on my list of atmospheric dining experiences, Anise, however only one person replied so I opted for the much more sensible Himalayan Café instead.

Luckily, this week was the James Street Food and Lifestyle Trail, a culinary adventure of the delights from the best of what trendy James Street has to offer with pop up restaurants, food and wine pairings, and cultural events. I could only choose one, so Wednesday evening it was off to recently opened Gerrard’s Bistro (where I last tried sheep brains) for their Special Degustation Menu with Ben Williamson, head chef – and a mighty good looking one might I add.

Reservations were required for this art deco restaurant turned food frenzy. Arriving before the 7 pm start, tables were set neatly with cutlery, various wine glasses sized for pour and the evening’s menu set out in the middle. Our group of four was sat in front, a perfect location to listen to chef Ben Williamson explain each course in fine detail following the Red + White wine rep depicting the evenings pairing.

I took out my little green moleskin notebook to begin jotting notes, assuming to go unnoticed, but then was caught red-handed. Yup, I’m a note taker – just in case I feel compelled to write home about it.

Course 1 – Cuttlefish crostini with jamon Serrano, melon Biancavigna ‘Brut’ DOC NV Prosecco, Veneto, Italy

Rumor has it that Prosecco is actually outselling Champagne these days due to popular demand. The pouring was generous and they even came around to top us off! The melon on the jamon was a refreshing touch of sweet summer on the salty dry meat.

Course 2 – Yellow-tail tuna, apple and spring aromatics La Raia, Cortese, Gavi, Italy

The Cortese was nearly my favorite wine of the night. An almond, buttery undertone with a touch of apple at the finish. It perfectly complimented the apple accompanying the “caught that day” raw tuna.

Course 3 – Coal grilled quail, roasted beet, hazelnuts, baby leaves, spice Louis Jadot ‘Cotes de Nuits Villages’ Pinot Noir, Burgundy, France

I’m a sucker for a good Pinot Noir. When my friend mentioned that she doesn’t do foreign wines, I explained that this was the reason I love a good Pinot. Also, another reason why I shouldn’t buy cheap Pinot. The bite size quail though was tender and salty but the beetroot and hazelnuts was a good balance.

Course 4 – Saltbush lamb ‘tagine’, dates, orange, candied olive, ‘shirin polow’- jewelled rice Marchesi Mazzei ‘Zisola’ Nero d’Avola, Sicily, Italy

My first try of the Zisola was that it was too sweet and my immediate inclination was to dismiss it, but after a few swirls and sips I really opened up to it. The lamb tagine was to die for, melt in your mouth, succulent tastes of joy. Really, this was by far the best dish on the menu.

Course 5 – Rose marshmallow, sheep’s yoghurt sorbet, pomegranate, strawberry leather, spiced rosé
Domaine Ott ‘Les Domainiers’, Grenache/Cinsault, Provence, France

When my wine was poured pink I almost didn’t even give it a try. Rose, no way. But the guys at Red + White are good. Although I was indifferent to the dessert, yes the sheep’s yogurt sorbet was sweet and who doesn’t like a good marshmallow, I could have done without. More memorable was how approachable the Rose actually was. Very mild, not overly sugary and I just say, I would drink it on a warm summer day.

Nearing 11 pm this degustation has gone on for hours. Would you be surprised if I mentioned that by the end the whole room was buzzing from the euphoric atmosphere and lavish wine pours? So much so that instead of complimenting the chef on the amazing meal I was tempted to thank them for stocking my favorite Japanese soap, Aesop, which is always a pleasant surprise to find in a restaurant bathroom.

Unfortunate that I could only afford one event on the James Street Food and Lifestyle Trail but I look forward to future events.

These Two Eyes!

Welcome to These Two Eyes! Follow along for travel, food and experience recommendations across the world!

Author: These Two Eyes

The American-Australian Debate

Ethiopian Cuisine of Delights

Safari Town, SA

Becoming shark bait

Cape Town

Dear United

A lekker reunion

Come dressed in your croquet best

Road Tripping

Degustation Sensation

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