Day 3

2011

Wednesday, 7 September

I met Dad down in the restaurant for breakfast and once again had waffles. They always taste better when someone else makes them. Last night Nigel had suggested that I catch the train to the airport rather than take a car. Dad told me that on a previous trip a truck had overturned on the freeway and it took him over two hours to get there by car. The train takes 10 minutes. Was not a difficult choice to make. 

The hotel had a free shuttle to the train station and I was the only one on board. It took less than 10 minutes to get to the Gautrain and the driver was kind enough to carry my bags to the lift. At the bottom of the lift someone else got my ticket for me from the vending machine (I don't know why they don't let you do it yourself) which cost R105 and I caught the 4 escalators down to the platform. The train was already waiting and I rolled my bag on and took a seat. Ten minutes later I was at the airport. It couldn't have been easier.  The train was clean, efficient and safe so I have no idea why you would attempt anything else. 

Joburg airport is equally clean and efficient. As with many other airports they have self checking kiosks and people there to show you how to use them. I got my ticket and then headed over to the bag drop counter. When I got there I was told that my bags were overweight. This is one of the very few economy class legs on my route and I'd forgotten that the allowances are less. I explained that I was on a 6 month round the world tour and had to cater for cold climates. The guy at the counter smiled at me and said, "You can pay me next time." This is the second time I have been to South Africa and I must say that on every occasion I have been amazed by the customer service.

I was about an hour early for my flight so grabbed a quick bite to eat and caught up on Internet including the obligatory chat with my BFF Simone. Finally it was time to board the flight. I was asleep before takeoff and only woke as we were descending less than an hour later. 

When I exited the terminal Bryan, the octogenarian friend of my parents whom I had met when he stayed with us for a few weeks a couple of months back, Bryan has asked me to stay with him when I came to South Africa so I took him up on it. So there was Bryan a tiny little man dressed in shorts and a t-shirt excitedly bouncing up and down as I came through. He grabbed my hand and shook it vigorously before hugging me. We then went out to his old white Opel and headed south about 150km to the little town of Umtentweni on the Natal coast. 

Umtentweni or Tweni to the locals is a sleepy little seaside town in the holiday area of South Africa. Given that it was off season, the town was especially sleepy. Bryan lived in a little compound with seven other houses surrounded by a wall. Unlike many of the other places the wall was not topped with razor wire and an electric fence. Bryan's house was much larger than I expected especially as he lived by himself. Originally he and his wife Mabel had moved there but she had died some six years back and so now Bryan was on his own. The house was immaculate with a place for everything. A huge shadow board (a board with an outline of the tools that are supposed to hang in various places) was in the garage. The kitchen likewise had a place for everything. Prior to Mabel's death she did all the cooking and Bryan had never ventured into the kitchen. Now he was forced to do it all himself but it was obvious someone had been through and helped him out. Most of the kitchen items had post-it notes on them saying what it was for. A tray said "good for heating up sausage rolls", a bowl said "best for salads", and the toasted sandwich maker said "butter the outside of the bread". It was charming but a little sad to see someone so lost in their own house. Yet Bryan is the happiest person in the village and gets on with life never complaining. He has his routines and is incredibly sprightly and active for someone his age. 

Whilst Bryan is full of life the one area he lacks confidence in is cooking. I've cooked for Bryan many times before when he stayed with us in Brisbane so he knows I can cook. Perhaps he was embarrassed about this so the first night one of his friends, an Afrikaan woman named Hanniki had cooked a meal for us. It was a lovely meat loaf coated in mash potatoes with separate vegetables on the side. She'd also made an entree and a dessert for us. We were very spoilt indeed. It had been a long day so after the meal we called it a night.