the family holiday

With a new baby around the corner and the stress of added financial pressure, we decided to throw caution to the wind, leave our home, farm, animals and business for others to tend to and hit the long African roads - once more this year.

As usual we would camp - my husband does not believe a holiday with basic comforts is a holiday at all - he believes you have to be close to the ground and battle a bit in order for relaxation to take its course. But after our recent camping trip to Mozambique I felt unfased by the organised safari campsites available in the Kruger National Park, where we were headed- they even provide hot water on tap!

It takes me a full uninterrupted day to prepare for these trips, maybe I'm too organised but I can't seem to do it any other way than methodically ticking off items which I have broken down into various categories. Low and behold I forget the jam, rusks, binoculars or bird book - these are the simple and vital needs of my husband, who has little to do with packing and planning. All he needs to know is the time of our depature - which is never before 12 noon. Then he races around organising last minute business details which may include felling a 6m Eucalyptus tree, paddling a group of 20 kayakers to Robberg peninsula and back plus an urgent landscaping meeting. About an hour before departure I start to phone him in 15 minute intervals, keeping him focused on the main objective: to leave on holiday. He arrives home about 20 minutes late, changes his clothes and leaps into the driver's seat. We usually stop about three times in our driveway to run back into the house for a forgotten item before we actually pull out onto the main road. By then the already traumatised dog is utterly bewildered, are we coming or going? And the farm staff pretend not to notice. Ofcourse we also have to stop once or three times more to drop off or pick up something else - work related. Finally we leave town and I offer him a sandwhich, which he eats unconsciously while ticking off items on his mental list.

After about an hour of driving and last minute phone calls, Charles begins to unwind and allow the fact that we are going on holiday to filter into his consciousness. That's when we all breathe a sigh of relief, turn on the music and open some snacks. The twins are pro's at long drives these days and enthusiastically point out every sheep, cow and goat that we pass along the way.
South Africa is huge and driving three days to get North of the country is mandatory, unless one wants to fly, but I find driving part of the adventure and love to be reminded of what is out there and how diverse our country really is. I'm always equally shocked by both the stark beauty and the poverty and trash one sees around the outskirts of each town. A classic symbol of the third-world: garbage.

                                                                       

Stealing a swim in one of the many farm reservoirs along the hot and endless Karoo road reminded me of road trips in the past when being a responsible parent was a remote and distant possibility. It thrilled the girls and reminded me to feel free. However the reality of parental compromises was not far off  when we found ourselves eating take aways in the dark because we were overnighting in an open plan room and the girls refused to sleep with the lights on! I can't recall my own father agreeing to eat his cold supper with a warm Appletizer in the dark, while my brother and I snored away happily.

Finally we arrived at our destination and were greeted into the Kruger Park by a leopard sighting! Charles miraculously sighted the spotty cat dash through the long grass and come to a halt under a tree. We held our breaths and watched as he seemed active enough to be on the hunt, but sadly we were joined by five more vehicles and soon lost our visual. We decided after that that we would pretend to look the other way next time we spotted something so rare and elusive.

Before reaching our campsite we had already had a close encounter with a female elephant and her calf and seen zebra, impala and giraffe. The girls were delighted by each sighting throughout our stay in the park, no matter if it were a couple of banded mongoose at the campsite or a pride of lions crossing the road. Each animal was exclaimed upon in true and fascinated delight - making the sweat of getting to the bushveld so much more worth it for us as parents.

As the sun dipped Charles and I, in true Laurel and Hardy style, tried to put up our tent, which we had never used before. Eventually our neighbour took pity on our desperate attempts to get two hungry and tired four-year-olds to help us hold poles and stepped in to assist. Thank goodness for this and two-minute noodles - the girls were fed and asleep minutes after our homestead was erected. 

 

After that there wasn't much else to do but go on game drives, escape the midday heat at the pool and braai at night - what more can one ask for? The only thing lacking when one travels with small people is "time-out" from the continuous juvenile chatter, and a good afternoon nap - but we survived with only a few snarlings at one another.

Back home. Are we well rested? Physically, no. Mentally, yes, refreshed and ready to begin baby preparation in earnest...if I could just remember that I am pregnant every now and then inbetween mothering the existing two!

happy travels

Three days after my last blog post we did leave for our cross country road trip to Mozambique. And contrary to lurking fears that I may have been coercing my husband into doing something that had the potential to be a disastrous waste of time, we had an amazing time and the girls blew me away with their cool adaptation to African travel!

I was determined not to overdo the packing, so we left the farm with the bare essentials: a few surf boards, a tent, sleeping bags, a braai grid and a cooler box. For the girls entertainment I took some books, crayons and a small box of farm animals. And not once did they want for anything else.

They took to the road like seasoned travelers, never whining about the time, ever enthusiastic about the passing scenery and perfectly happy to skip regular meals. One day we pushed it for 11 hours without one disgruntled squeak – they were champs.

It took us a total of 24 hours to reach Ponta de Ouro on the Kosi Bay border of SA and Mozambique. We crossed the border after three days and thank goodness for the 4x4 option on our car as the roads are nothing but pure, thick sand.  

The road from the border 

Finally at our destination and my heart sank when I saw the exposed, unkempt campsite we had planned to stay in. Most African countries, and Mozambique is no exception, lack in the public service department. Of course I should have known better than to expect more. The campsite was not a little piece of paradise overlooking the point break. Instead it was an overgrown, littered piece of ground with moderately usable ablutions. Charles wanted to be close to the waves and I wanted my paradise expectations met. So I turned on the taps - a little emotional manipulation can get you quite far in a foreign country. He agreed to take a look at Ponta Malangane a little further down the coast which a friend had told us about. Here we found the “paradise” campsite under trees, with monkeys, butterflies, squirrels, and mosquitoes ofcourse. We were all relieved.

Holidays can be hard work and I definitely had a few monents of pulling out the emotional reserves to keep it going on the right track. You have to work hard at enjoying yourself and squashing disappointments when the going gets tough and you haven’t eaten a decent meal or showered in days. Remarkably I found my attitude improved vastly once we had lit the braai and were having our first cold Mozambican beer…
The compromise to not being surrounded by litter was the non-stop flow of fishing boats and trailers. But in all fairness the fishermen were very friendly and I think our simple campsite with two small children was quite an enigma to them, who camp with every available apparatus to ease the hardship of outdoor living. One guy even had a machine to electrocute mosquitoes and anything else that came its way!

In a very short time we were fully into the slow mode of Mozambican life. My hair was constantly salty and my feet never clean – it was perfect and I felt almost like I was in my pre-motherhood days of freedom again. The girls were happy, wild and free. They ran around almost bare, swam for hours on end in the warm, warm water and to our delight, learnt to surf. And Charles got to see his girls all day everyday and it was invaluable. 

Anna: up and riding

 Charlotte: up and riding. Dad: proud.

The waves were a little scarce for us. Although we did have one day of really good swell with beautiful, blue, warm perfect, nice sized waves, but it was fleeting. I didn’t mind much as it gave me more reading time while the girls swam. Charles got slightly restless.

The good looking Mozambicans are friendly but wary - which is no wonder after enduring nearly 20 years of war which only came to an official end in 1994. Their lives are hard and it is, like in all of Africa, a daily battle to make money and survive. The cost of living is high in Ponta, probably due to a combination of capitalising on the tourists and the difficulty to get supplies to the area. I was slightly disappointed by the lack of local eateries – homemade African food is my absolute favorite – and the exorbitant amount of bars and alcohol that is available. You could go hungry in Ponta but if it’s a shooter you’re after, never fear as there is a bar in every second shack!

One day Charlotte asked me what the word “bar” and “ice” said, because she kept seeing these words everywhere. I told her and after thinking about this for awhile she said to me: “So Mom, you get a lot of sheep and ice here, hey?” 

 Our first ever fizzy drink - with ice!

The week flew by and soon we were on the road again. We decided to head for the Transkei on the way home. This time we really did find PARADISE - vast, green plains and multiple waterfalls that tumble into the ocean. It is so beautiful and untouched that I won’t mention it by name on the World Wide Web. Sadly we could only spend one night there as the few bungaloes available were booked up. So we headed for The Kraal near Port St John’s, a simple backpackers built in African style with cow dung floors, set atop the green Transkei hills. As soon as we arrived Charles dropped his last remaining work stresses and I saw the relaxed man I had once known emerge.   

 

We surfed, snorkeled and ate seafood until we were tired of it.

 Then a storm hit and at two ‘o clock one morning we had to evacuate our flooded tent by bundling the girls up and running through torrents of rain to shelter. The next morning it was still pouring with rain and everything was soaked. It was my 35^th birthday. We took this as our cue to leave and finally get home.

Returning home was refreshing. Everything was green, the animals are fat and happy and we have a new addition, to the girl’s delight, of eight baby chicks.

Now that we are back into our busy, scheduled lives, I can still feel the strengths of the bonds that the four of us made while we were away. It was a learning and growing curve for all of us. But most importantly, I’ve realised that the twins are really “cool chicks” and the best travel buddies I’ve had.