A Provençal Road Trip... in South Africa

As I sipped my glass of crisp Chenin Blanc on the terrace of a local winery and looked out over rows of vines, blue lavender and olive trees to the low, rocky mountains beyond, I found myself thinking:

“This is Africa?”

Where were the lions, the elephants, the giraffes? Where were the Masai tribes and the head dresses? I should be eating mashed lentils with my hands in the bush somewhere, not eating fresh oysters and Camembert cheese on a sunny terrace. This wasn’t the Africa from the pages of my dad’s National Geographic magazines. Hell, if it wasn’t for the language, I’d think we were in Provence!

But, you know, maybe it was a blessing in disguise that the area we explored in South Africa, the wine and coastal regions east of Cape Town, so closely resembled the region of France that we would be returning to within days. Maybe it eased the transition between traveling and being back in Provence. Maybe that two week road trip helped us to mentally prepare ourselves for Europe.

It certainly helped us prepare our stomachs.

Two weeks in South Africa’s most fertile region, not to mention a visit to its famed Winelands, was enough to help us gain back all of the weight we had lost during our trek in Nepal. We gorged ourselves on lovely French-style cheeses, home-made ostrich stew, fresh Knynsa oysters, barbequed sausages, our first sushi meal in a year.

And wine. Obscene, embarrassing, disgusting amounts of wine. 

Although it felt like it sometimes, we didn’t spend the whole two weeks just eating and drinking. We drove a bit, first along gorgeous winding coastal roads with stunning views on the Atlantic and Indian Oceans, then through dry, rocky mountains further inland, and finally, through lush green farmland covered in grape vines and blooming lavender. We didn’t have to drive far out of Cape Town for landscapes that were at once varied and beautiful. 

 

We also did several day-hikes, during which I insisted that we both carry “baboon sticks” in case we came across any baboons during our walk.  You laugh, but those things were everywhere and I wasn’t about to risk getting attacked by an aggressive, disease-infested, red-bottomed baboon during the last week of our trip. No, thank you, no nasty-ass baboons for this girl.

Those baboons better not f- with me, I got my Baboon Stick.

A baboon-free hike along the coast

Baboons weren’t the only wildlife we saw during our road trip; we also got up close and personal with a colony of penguins and some ostriches. True, it isn’t exactly Discovery Channel material, but we were still pretty excited. That is, until one of our guesthouse hosts told us that ostriches are really mean and will use their claws to rip open your stomach and eat your intestines while you are still alive. Charming lady, really…

At least he won't try to eat my innards

 

When we had had enough nature in all of its threatening, organ-eating forms, we hightailed it back to Cape Town, with a two-day detour in the wine region to do tastings and essentially make our bodies hate us. Imagine my liver giving me the finger before packing up its things and jumping in a taxi- that’s what two consecutive days of wine “tasting” did to us.

In Cape Town, we did what we always do in a new city: we got lost. We wondered around aimlessly until we eventually found ourselves in the adorable neighborhood of Bo Kaap, known for its candy-colored houses. Every home was painted a different bright color, every street looked like Disneyland, everywhere we looked was another photo opportunity. It was fuckin’ adorable.

On our last night in Cape Town, the last of our year-long adventure, we went to an Ethiopian restaurant in the hope of finally feeling like we were in Africa, even if just for one meal. Everything was going well: we had Ethiopian honey wine to drink and we ate with our hands. There were even mashed lentils on the table. After two weeks in “Provence,” we were finally in Africa. We finished our typical Ethiopian meal and were about to congratulate ourselves on this authentic experience when our waiter came to our table.

“And now, for dessert,” he said with a flourish, as we eagerly strained to see what Ethiopian sweet would finish the meal. “Mediterranean baklava with ice cream. Enjoy.”

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Into the Bush

And no, that isn’t a TMI reference to our woefully inept grooming habits these days…

We are currently on yet another road trip in yet another camper van, only this time in what the Australians somewhat dismissively called “the bush,” that is, any even remotely rural area that isn’t the Outback. This particular “bush” refers to the forests, fields and small towns that line Australia’s East Coast.

We started in Brisbane and are slowly but surely making our way up the coast in a camper that pales in comparison to our trusty Chunk from New Zealand. 

Sad little Vincent in our sad little camper

It looks spacious, but that is an illusion, my friend.

We are getting by regardless, largely because in the place of the below-freezing temperatures in New Zealand, we have the positively summery weather of northern Australia. Instead of retreating to Chunk as soon as the sun goes down to burrow under our covers and eat hot soup, we can spend the evenings sitting outside in our wobbly camping chairs, drinking local rum from plastic cups and enjoying the stunning views of all of the mobile-homing retirees (they call them the “gray nomads”) in our camp sites. Very romantic, as you can imagine.

We have only been at it for a few days, but already we have learned a valuable lesson:

Australia is big.

This isn’t snug New Zealand, where every bend in the road hides another unique, usually breathtaking, landscape. Where we could average two hours of driving a day and still manage to see most of the country in three weeks. No, this is a massive country- all of Western and Central Europe fits easily within its borders- and that simple fact has serious implications for the road trip-inclined.

Isn't little Europe adorable?

Basically, we have to accept that given the limited time we have (two-ish weeks), we are able to see only a tiny fraction of the country: no Outback, no Uluru, no West Coast, no Melbourne. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t covering some serious ground. In two weeks, we will have driven well over 1,200 miles, which doesn’t seem enormous until you consider that the entire drive is on a curvy, congested, two-lane highway, which is the only kind available north of Brisbane. For all of the noise made about the veritable menagerie of lethal beasties in Australia- the country famously has more creatures that can kill you than anywhere else on earth- it is the roads here that have us quaking in our Crocs.

Vincent ain't scared.

Luckily, Australia’s beauty and singularity make up for the long driving times. Despite the fact that we have managed to take exactly one picture in the last five days, the views out our camper windows are very often lovely, in a bushy kind of way. What's more, the tropical, northern weather is a delight and we are able to spend our non-driving hours hanging out on one of the East Coast’s long, sandy beaches. Granted, our beach time is usually spent doing weird little exercises to ward off the chub (think awkward leg lifts and arm rotations), but hey, it’s still beach time.

The Bush, aka a bunch of Eucalyptus trees

In addition to the wonderful coastal scenery, our drive has also allowed us the opportunity to view some of Australia’s iconic flora and fauna, namely, more Eucalyptus trees than you can shake a koala at and a few kangaroos. Admittedly, the only kangaroos we saw were dead on the side of the highway, but that small detail didn’t damper our excitement in the least. On the contrary, actually. You can see live kangaroos in zoos all over the world, but only in Australia can you see them dead on the side of the road.

You see, kangaroos to Australians are a little like deer to Missourians: an over-populated, if lovable, road hazard. They are everywhere, especially at night when they are most active, and their habit of jumping out into the road the moment they see oncoming headlights borders on suicidal (or homicidal, if you consider the traffic statistics.) The danger they present is so prevalent that most insurance companies won’t ensure collisions with the bouncy marsupials after nightfall. Since I don’t have a picture of a live kangaroo- or a dead one, for that matter- here’s a picture of me being creeped out by some aggressive possums.

So until we actually see a live kangaroo, we will entertain ourselves with some of the other, lesser-known wonders of Australian life. The following, in no particular order, is a list of some of the more fascinating things we’ve learned about the Land Down Under in the past few weeks.

•          Australians make a damn good coffee. Seriously, here and in New Zealand we have found the best coffee we’ve both ever had. Sorry France and Italy, but the Aussies have you beat with the combination of excellent quality and an almost American regard for variety and personal preference.  It took us a few tries to figure out how to order: long or short black, flat white, skinny, baby-cino, etc. - but once we got the hang of it, we have managed to find consistently great coffee everywhere we go (barring the instant shit we are drinking in our camper van, which doesn’t even come equipped with what the Australians call a “plunger,” or what the rest of the world calls a French press.)

•          Australians really do say “mate.” Like, in every sentence. And “g’day”! Also, let the record show that I have seen several men wearing wide-brimmed, leather bush hats and even one guy wearing one with work boots and shorts, like some bad-ass love child of Crocodile Dundee and Steve Erwin. Nice one, mate.

•          Aside from the mind-bogglingly ancient Aboriginal culture, Australia’s history is really recent. This, coming from an American whose own country is essentially an over-achieving teenager compared to Europe or Asia, should give you an idea of how obvious Oz’s newness is. Consider that the country’s very first settlement (Sydney) was started in 1788 (by a bunch of convicts sent from England, no less), that its constitution dates back only to 1901, and that its largest wave of immigration has been just in the past fifty or so years, and you realize that Australia’s modern history really isn’t that extensive. That’s not to say it isn’t important or interesting, it’s just a shock when we talk to people who mention their “ancestors” from England or Ireland only to find out that they are actually referring to their grandparents.

•          Australia is surprisingly cosmopolitan- well, surprising to me anyway. It’s a country of immigrants, much like the US, but the newness of that immigration, coupled with the fact that Australia is closer geographically to Asia than anywhere else, makes the country a really interesting mix of backgrounds and cultures. There’s definitely a distinct Australian culture (see: “bush hats” above), but the Aussies are also admirably open to other cultures. Asian take-aways are as prevalent as the ubiquitous, and undeniably English, fish and chips shops, while American films compete with le cinema Français in the movie theaters. It’s an inspiring mix and gives the country more layers of culture than we expected.

•          Australia isn’t all dry, barren Outback! I don’t know, I guess with the whole “Red Continent” thing, I expected Australia to be an only slightly more habitable version of Mars. But in fact, the north part of the country, including where we are now, is positively tropical! I’m talking exotic fruits, rainforests and sugar cane plantations- which just so happens to also mean locally made rum. High five.

•          Lastly- and this comes as a surprise to absolutely no one- the Australians are so nice. Really, they are. Outside of New Zealand and the American Midwest, you won’t find a more friendly, open, willing-to-start-a-conversation-with-strangers people than the Aussies. It’s not only wonderfully comforting and helpful, but it’s also from them that we learned all of the above.

So, thanks mates. 

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The Great Kiwi Road Trip: Part II, Episode II*

*And a little bit of Episode I because I was way too busy singing old Elton John songs and pretending to use my magic staff (didn’t I tell you? I’m Gandalf now…) that I did not even mention where we were in New Zealand’s South Island. What kind of travel blog is this??

So before I jump into our most recent adventures let me back up and tell you what we were doing last week when we weren’t watching Lord of the Rings movies.

We flew from Auckland in the North Island to Christchurch in the South Island, where we rented Chunk, our camper van. 

Chunk's roomy interior

We then drove southwest through the central lakes region and by Mt. Cook, which at 12,300 ft (3754 m), is New Zealand’s highest mountain. From there, we headed further south to the area around Queenstown, which is on the massive Lake Wakatipu and is surrounded by several beautiful mountain ranges; one of which is the awesomely-named Remarkables range.

I don’t know why that name tickles me so much, but I just love the idea of naming a mountain range such an awe-struck adjective. They aren’t named for their rockiness, or their smokiness, or after some person or tribe. They are named The Remarkables simply because someone looked at them and that’s the first word that came to their mind. I love that.

From Queenstown, we went to the southern-most region of New Zealand, imaginatively named Southland. Remember our first road trip in the north? That area was called Northland. I guess the Kiwis’ creativity stopped after The Remarkables.

Southland is well-known for its pristine mountains and fjords (the fjord area is called, you guessed it, Fjordland), including Milford Sound, which is New Zealand’s pride and joy: a long inlet of deep blue water from the Tasman Sea that winds through a gorge of snowcapped mountains, green domed hills and tall, cascading waterfalls that crash into the water below from sheer rock faces. 

Taste the Rainbow (and enjoy the dorky raincoat hood)

While actually a fjord, not a sound, Milford Sound is not only beautiful, but is also impressively remote and protected. For the nation’s most frequented tourist site, there is very little there in the way of tourist amenities and the Sound is left blessedly free of the kinds of crowds one would expect at so famous a place.

In fact, the entire South Island is conspicuously free of the hordes of tourists that should be in a country this stunning. As I’ve said again and again, New Zealand is gorgeous. No exaggeration (or at least, no more than usual, coming from me), every single hour of every single day that we’ve spent here on the South Island has brought us one stunning view after another. While I can’t say that New Zealand is the most beautiful country in the world, I can assert without a doubt that it is the most beautiful one I have ever seen.  

A large part of that is of course the natural beauty of the landscape, but another part is that this placed is simply untouched. There are so few people living on the South Island that the vast majority -and I’m talking maybe 80% here- of the island is undeveloped. Sure, a good chunk of that percentage is grazing land for animals (there are 45 million sheep for a population of 4.5 million people), but it’s still green and natural and has not been constructed upon. The rest is just virgin forest, uninhabited mountain ranges, naked coast line. We pass the most picturesque alpine lakes imaginable and no one has built a house on the banks, no one is cutting across them on a jet-ski. Sure, we see lakes like these in Switzerland, but there they are surrounded by mansions and piers, villages and public parks. Here, it feels like we have the entire country to ourselves.

Can you tell I am in love with this place?

After taking in Milford Sound by way of a boat cruise (which was kind of forced upon us: there is no other way to explore the fjord other than on the water) we enjoyed Fjordland a little more by hiking along the famous (well, famous here anyway) Routeburn Track up to Key Summit. I normally don’t bother giving the names of the hikes we do, but this one had such spectacular views from the top that I can’t keep it to myself. Behold:

Beautiful, yes, but coooold!

Also of note is the wildlife we have seen these last few days. While walking in the woods one day in a place we named the Enchanted Forest (shut up, it was enchanted!) we saw a wild parakeet in a bush right next to the path! Our pictures of him are embarrassing, but it was really cool to see a bird that we normally consider to be tropical in a place surrounded by snowy mountain peaks. 

See? Totally enchanted.

But that’s New Zealand: every climate, landscape, flora and fauna imaginable, all smashed together on a tiny island. Sheep on the side of the road one minute, seals the next. It’s insane.

Our other brush with Mother Nature was decidedly less magical: a creepy possum wouldn’t leave us alone one night. We could hear him scratching around outside and stomping back and forth on our roof. I kept telling Vincent, “It’s a possum, it’s a possum, I just know it,” while looking out the window from behind the curtains like a crazy old lady making sure the neighborhood kids don’t ride their bikes on her lawn.

Vincent remained skeptical until finally he decided to grab a flashlight and go look around. We both crept outside into the night, Vincent in front with the flashlight and me cowering behind him (which is perfectly normal- possums are gross). Suddenly, Vincent gasped, “Elissa, look!”

On the ground, in the beam of his flashlight, was a dead bird.

That was proof enough for me that there was a killer possum on the loose, and doing my most dignified version of the Chicken Dance, I ran back to the camper van yelling, “Possumpossumpossum!”

Vincent finally convinced me to venture back out in the darkness and we found the possum, high on a branch in the tree above Chunk.

Watching us.

Waiting.

Creepy-ass possum…

We are now on the west coast, where we will begin our journey north along the Tasman Sea for the next week before looping around back to Christchurch. In the meantime, betcha can’t guess the name of the westernmost region of New Zealand…

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The Great Kiwi Road Trip, Part II: Episode I

-a.k.a "Lord of the Rings and Easy Listening Music"

Lord of the Rings (hereby referred to as LotR) and easy listening music should never be in the same sentence, but no two themes better represent our first few days of touring the South Island of New Zealand in a rented camper van.

As mentioned in my last post, we opted for a bigger van this time around, which not only gives us more space for the 17-day excursion, but also ends up being a cheaper deal (don't ask me, Vincent's the accountant in this operation). So when we booked online, we knew we were upgrading from our little camper in the North Island, but we had no idea we would be getting this beast:

We call him: "Chunk."

Despite his bulk, Chunk has actually been the perfect companion on our trip. Unlike in the North Island, where we could eat our meals outside, the South Island is cooooold and as a result, we spend all of our downtime inside. Chunk's extra pudge might be embarrassing, but damn he's comfortable.

And frankly, a little comfort doesn't go unnoticed on nights when the temperature gets below freezing, which has happened a few times since we started. Some nights, we succumb to our weenie-ness and go to a powered campsite to plug in our heater, but we have also made an effort to do some "wild" camping- i.e. no heat or hot water (or bathrooms for that matter).

Trying to keep warm by wrapping ourselves in comforters while we eat our hot soup.

One of our more beautiful (and more freezing) campsites

But let's go back to those themes I mentioned.

First, for those who are a little less dorky than I am (and I assume that's all of you), let me explain why Lord of the Rings has played such an integral role in our road trip. The three LotR movies- all 11 hours(!) of them- were filmed in New Zealand, principally in the South Island. When I watched those movies, I was enchanted by landscapes that played almost as big a role as the characters themselves (that is, when I wasn't distracted by all of the dramatic, homo-erotic looks of longing shared between Frodo and Samwise- god, those two were into each other...) Behind the wizards and goblins, the talking trees and hobbits, there were always soaring snow-capped mountains, deep blue alpine lakes, vast rolling plains, moss-covered forests. Even if you aren't a huge LotR nerd, the film sets of those movies are magnificent.

So, as we began our journey in the South Island, we set out on a quest of our own: to find the same scenery that was in the movies. And we weren't disappointed.

Now that's a picnic spot

Frodo and Sam, gettin' their gay on

We have been spending our days driving and hiking through breath-taking natural beauty. Then, as soon as the sun goes down (which it does early down here), we retreat to Chunk, curl up under our comforters and watch the LotR films, getting even more excited about the places we'll see next. Between the incredible scenery we are seeing every day and my stubby- and, let's face it, hairy- legs, I totally feel like Frodo.

Or Gollum, if I haven't showered in a couple days.

You may be wondering where the easy listening music comes into play here, but believe me, it does. The Kiwis, in all of their wisdom, have created something called "Tourism  Radio," which comes free with rented camper vans. The radio has a GPS system, so as we approach a town or sight, the radio tells us a little bit about it: the highlights and history, what to see and do, where to stay. It's genius, really.

Even more genius is that in between the recorded messages is hilarious easy listening music from the 70's, 80's and 90's (and some recent stuff, but honestly, who listens to Michael Buble??) So, the beautiful views and picturesque drives of the past few days have had the unexpected soundtrack of The Eagles, the Steve Miller Band, Celine Dion, REM, and my personal favorite, Sir Elton John.

Picture it: us flying through the countryside of New Zealand in Chunk the camper van. Vincent driving. Me navigating.

And both of us belting out at the top of our lungs, "She's got electric boots, a mohair suit, ya know I read it in a maga-zah-eeeeeene-whoa hooooo. B-b-b-Benny and the Jets!"

There may have been some dancing involved as well.

"Zat's me in za corner. Zat's me in za spot-light, losing my religion..."

Between the stunning landscapes, the embarrassingly awesome easy listening music, the non-stop Lord of the Rings references and our friend Chunk- the Great Kiwi Road Trip, Part II is gearing up to be even more fun than Part I.

And for those of you who now have "Benny and the Jets" stuck in your head:

You're welcome.

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