Travel Stories - South Africa

I arrive in Swellendam at 15:15 and I already know exactly where I am when I get out of the car. It is the big wide street that which is called the Voortrekkersstraat. I take my bag out of the luggage storage, thank the men and see on a sign that it is 1.8 km to the museum where the exit is to my intended hostel. It’s much chillier than yesterday but the sun shines and I walk through the somewhat dull but reasonably beautiful old town of Swellendam through the first straight street. From there is a kinda of bend and enter the sidestreet "Bergstraat". On a board I have also seen that there is a campground in the city which is a nice thought. I think I still walked about 2 to 3 km when I push the door handle down from my hostel. There are some people in the kitchen and I walk to the reception where a white woman is walking towards me. I ask for accommodation where she says she is full. Can not I camp? There is still place to camp and she asks 200R. Excuse me? The facilitie costs makes it all very expensive here she says. Wow I never paid this kind of money for camping in the country. She does not have dormitories and then she starts to talk about the campsite. I thank the woman and walk out of the door.

I walk all the way back with my big bag and follow the signs of het campsite. I arrive at a ridiculously busy campsite. What is going on here? Exactly at the same moment when I walk into the reception there is apparently a change of guard. The woman starts talking about prices of camping above 200 Rand and I do not understand anything anymore. I say that I only have a tiny tent with me, do not need electricity and also no golden toilet bowl. She can offer me a camping spot for 161R. Then it turns out that I pay for a place of 4 people and they are going to try to find three others for me - I do not believe it and know that the people who are already here and who arrive (they are all white people with bicycles so I see) are not willing to share a spot with me. I try to haggle with this crowd that will never succeed. I pay the bill because I can not leave here anymore and find a place which is already difficult enough with all those people here. 

I put my tent on and decided to turn on my gasoline burner again and to make a cup of coffee. It becomes more crowded every minute and you can wait fort he moment that people will put up their tent just next to mine. There appears to be a large group of regular cyclists around me who constantly walk back and forth and scream at each other. Hopefully they go to bed early because they have to cycle tomorrow but I'm also afraid that a party will start soon. I hear beer bottles open and especially a lot of car doors slamming. I fear that it will be my worst night in Sout Africa till now. Because I am so tired I still fall asleep - if I am awakened later by the rain, it is quiet at the campsite.

I slept very deep but then early in the morning I wake up. The rain stopped but I hear somebody slamming car doors and in the distance people talking. I look horrified at my watch to see it is four o'clock. Are they completely crazy? It turns out that the whole campsite is getting up and everyone get’s ready for a day of cycling. In the beginning it is still fairly quiet but when it is five o'clock everyone talks aloud, there is shouting, doors slamming and the fact that this is not a cycling camp but a general one with also some other people (including travelers). At 6:15 am the peace has returned and I come out of my tent and I’ve got the whole campsite for myself. As I pick up my tent it starts to rain again and I notice that my tent is dirty again with splashes and also super wet. The campsite is almost empty (although all the campers and stuff are still there) and I am glad that I do not have to face those people anymore. It is about seven o'clock when I walk down the campsite and walk towards the center. On the way I pass the beautiful white great Reformed church again and some other architectural Dutch delights such as the old house of the governor. Where I got out of the car yesterday, I see no buses and no taxis. There is a shop where I can apparently buy bus tickets and I walk inside. The woman explains that there is no taxi tank in Swellendam and the only way to get out of this is with a large touring bus. These all come from far away and the first one will arrive here at 3:00 PM. I sigh and know that I will not wait a whole day there. She still calls a taxi company but that is -as expected- a private taxi - this woman has no idea what traveling entails. I thank her and walk puffing out of the store not knowing what to do.

I walk towards the main road but because I’ve got no clue I decide to walk into one more store to ask. The man behind the counter explains that there is an intersection at a distance of about 3 km where people sometimes try to hitchhike. I walk a lot further and keep my thumb up. It is about half past eight when a car stops. The man starts laughing when I say that I want to go to Stellenbosch but the best he can do is to take me to the "hotspot" where I can hitchhike. You can keep a note of money in your hands or your thumb he says – maybe you get lucky. Here is a big chance that a truck driver stops who wants to earn something. He drops me off and I stand about 20 minutes at the so called “hot-spot” when a man stops in a truck and asks where I want to go.  

The man looks a bit nasty when he stops and I tell him I want to see Stellenbosch. He's going there and I'm showing my 50R note to him. He invites me to continue climbing into the truck and I sit down with a cool box between my legs and my big bag between us. The man is of Arab origin but starts to smile no - we talk about his life as a driver, the corruption in the country and about my journey. I occasionally fall asleep halfway until he starts to put the radio on. The big man sings along like a little girl and I can hardly believe it. While I look out the window, he chimes with every song and says in between the songs that he loves music. It is half past ten when he makes a loop at Sommerset on the top of the hill. It is a parking space and there is a large sign; do not feed bobbejanen. In Afrikaans it means that you should not have baboons here. There is a beautiful view of "False Bay", the city and the hills behind it. Somewhere out there I have to get off to be lucky again with a lift further to Stellenbosch. Fifteen minutes later I get out of the truck, thank the man and walk across the bridge to some traffic lights. It suddenly starts to rain and I hope i twill blow over – with rain it’s almost impossible to arrange a lift. Moments later I sitting in a trunk of a pick up on my way to the wine town of Stellenbosch. I got lucky again.