A Joint Poem Composed by Alternating Writing of Lines, Trying to Stick to Rhythm and Rhyme Scheme

(C)  The clouds overhead began to murmer

(J)  With fervour they gathered while murmuring further

About one young cloud - a suspected usurper

Blending into the crowd like a highly trained gherka

They all formed a merger, and agreed if they found her they all now would spurn her

Unnerved she would flounder, resoundingly beaten

They treated her meanly and pounded her streaks in

Their keeness a weakness she'd need to defeat them

She summoned up thunder for now she was seething

And breathing her hatred she tore them asunder

Once evaporated to sun and to firmament

Further she went and declared herself permanent

Herding new servants as far as her journey went

Bent on possession, she looked to the land

And sensed some dissention in how it was manned

Now the grandest of plans 'gan to form in her mind

She'd be to these people a thorn in the side

In disguise alongside them, she'd shortly reside

Then enlisting her wisps she would force them all blind

But she missed in all this a young girl of great kindness

Who fell to her knees and said "please don't your highness

My people are feeble and need your protection

Your gaseous vapour, your gentle convection

You let them: They'll love you!"

She broke down and wept then

The rending of tears from her nebulous cheeks

Did impeach the cloud empress who felt herself weaken

She senses that her friendlessness had made her evil

Repentently bent she to speak to the people

"O potent souls to you I bow

Your power I somehow forgot to allow

As you see I'm a cloud who right now is quite lonely

Please show me a way I can set up my home here."

"Well I 'spose if she's here then the sky will be mo' clear"

So reasoned the folks to whose ears she had pleaded

A purpose built cloudhouse was quickly conceded

Our heroine gifted with all that she needed

From thenceforth all people and clouds lived together

In tandem enjoying the newfound good weather.

Wednesday, 10th August

CHARLIE -

Realising that for the first time we are not being looked after by someone to whom we have paid loads of money, and are now completely self sufficient, we get on a big bus to Durban.  About an hour in, it is involved in a near disastrous altercation with several other vehicles.  I only notice some abrupt wobbling, but Jamie sees the truck in front suddenly swerve lanes, causing us to do the same and nearly colliding with an oncoming vehicle.  No actual collisions occur, however, and everyone is fine.

We arrive at Tekweni Backpackers which we immediately decide has the perfect hostel atmosphere.  We begin by playing shithead in the bar, then go to a mexican place and eat burritos.  We invent a game called Cigarettennis.  I take longer than Jamie (who is its principal pioneer) to develop my strategy but once I have done so we have some highly competitive rounds to the amusment of the restaurant staff.  We then induce giggling fits in each other by doing silly accents and have to leave feeling really rather silly.

Oh, on the bus we composed a poem. It will be published for your reading pleasure in a separate post.

JAMIE -

Arose this morning feeling a lot better and actually - brace yourselves - before our 7am alarm had sounded. I was therefore showered, dressed and breakfasted with a short time to spare before our car to the bus station. And, regarding our bus journey to Durban, it would not be unfair to say that we endured a slightly slippery moment. Now, before people start getting accusatory, saying that "we told you to be careful!" or "I said don't die!" can I please stress that this mishap had absolutely nothing to do with any recklessness or irresponsibility on the part of Charlie and me but was merely a road incident the occurrence of which we had no way of predicting or preventing.

Basically, what happened is this: we were travelling in our bus on the inside lane of a dual carriageway and moved into the outside lane to overtake a van ahead of us. Unfortunately, this van in front had been driving rather too close to the vehicle in front of it and, when this latter vehicle had braked hard, the van - though also braking hard - swerved onto the outside lane to avoid a collision. This swerving coincided with our own attempts to overtake and so we were suddenly forced to veer out further onto oncoming lanes, knocking the wingmirror off the van (the shattered remains of which went flying past the window) and sending both vehicles on a slightly skewed trajectory. This then left us driving on the wrong side of the road directly towards another oncoming bus and we luckily just managed to veer back onto our own side before a head-on collision.

In reality, it was all over in the blink of an eye and it is worth me remarking that this incident is not at all indicative of the level of danger to which we have so far been exposed in South Africa. While it would be foolish for Charlie and me to relax to the point of complacency, Johannesburg was a far cry from the crime-ridden hellhole we had been encouraged by people back home to see it as, and all the South Africans we have interacted with have been so helpful and welcoming that it really has been a very easy country around which to travel.

We arrived at Tekwini Backpackers at about 6:30pm. It is a social, nightlifey sort of hostel, which is just what we're after, replete with pool (of both the aquatic and billiard sort) and a bar. It does seem, however, that travellers this time of year are somewhat scant and we have yet to be able to socialise in the way we would like.

Though our attempt to go out was rather stale, it would be unfair to the evening to end without reporting on the highly silly dinner experience we enjoyed at the nearby Taco-Zulu bar. The venue had been recommended as a nice place to both eat and drink, and we began by getting stuck into a couple of cocktails and devising an entertaining game of Cigarettennis, the rules of which will appear elsewhere.

Having used these elements to direct us towards a distinctly merry state it was a great shame to have Charlie bring the whole mood crashing down with what can only be described as a catastrophic failure of travelling spirit. Because of course we all know that there is a right way and a wrong way to travel: 'sticking to your guns', 'playing safe', 'keeping to what you know' should all be abhorrent phrases to an open-minded traveller. Instead one must embrace the unexpected, lovingly caress the adventurous and positively grind against the daredevil, or risk losing a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and be forever looking back with regret. How disappointing, then, that Charlie adamantly REFUSED to stuff an entire Mexican burrito into his mouth at dinner, no matter HOW persuasively I tried to communicate to him the foolishness of his actions. I know, I know: it's pretty disgraceful behaviour. But I suppose Charlie's punishment will come in the future realisation that he had this chance to seize the moment and he fucking blew it like a twat. C'est la vie.

Thence ensued much more cocktail drinking and hilarious accent adopting.

Tuesday 9th August

CHARLIE -

We squeeze in a minibus that takes us back to Jo-burg.  Anthony and Andrew welcome us back to Moafrika with amused gusto.  While Jamie is for some reason taking a dip in the unnecessarily cold outdoor pool, I go on the internet and find that London is totally fucked.  I won't go into details because that would be writing a travel blog about what's happening back home, which would just be stupid, but suffice to say Jamie and I are both extremely shocked and upset to hear this.  I see a woman who runs a bar I used to drink at in Ealing when I was at drama school talking about how she had to hide in a cupboard while a mob smashed everything up.  This is deeply disturbing.  London is not supposed to behave like this.

JAMIE -

Today was one of those inevitable non-days one always gets when travelling: the return journey from Kruger to Johannesburg was really the sole event of the day, save for a final breakfast and goodbyes at Marc's Treehouse Lodge and a lunch break half way along. The minibus was fully packed and rather uncomfortable so we were very grateful to arrive back at Moafrika and to the welcoming face of Andrew and company.

The warmth of our reception was quickly counteracted by the coldness of the swimming pool that, in a fit of high-spirited madness, I had decided was just the thing to freshen me up. And in some ways it did freshen me up, though in much the same way perhaps as a red hot poker applied firmly to the sphincter would inevitably awaken the senses and help one appreciate what it truly means to be alive. And, much as I suppose a tube of germaline or some such substance would quickly quadruple in value to one recently endowed with a poker-seared sphincter, so the intoxicating charms of a nice, warm shower proved all the more alluring, coming as they did immediately following my icy flirtation with the thawing glacier they had shovelled into the concrete hole outside and dared to christen a pool. Add to this the fact that I hadn't showered - nay: stood free in all my naked glory - for three days and you have the ingredients for a pretty spunkingly good shower.

It was still only about 6pm after I had gotten every enjoyment I possibly could from the bathroom and Charlie and I had agreed to spend the evening entering the first few entries of our blog.

I cannot deny that our mood was significantly dampened by news of the London riots. Initial feelings of surprise and confusion have slowly turned into dismay and horror and as we watched the BBC news coverage of preparations for the 'Fourth Night' of the riots alongside all the other hostel guests and staff (all of different nationalities) the full enormity of what was happening began to dawn, and as the evening came to a close I felt not only fear for friends, family and home but also a sense of national shame that I have not felt before and that is all the more keenly felt abroad, when one's ambassadorial role as a representative of one's country tends to heighten the sense of national identity.

I shall have to write more on this when I have had time to reflect, but I was certainly grateful for the chance to go to bed and start afresh tomorrow.

Monday, 8th August

CHARLIE -

We wake up stupidly early to go on a game walk. The hot hungarian is there. My eye no longer looks like a red glob of shit so I take the opportunity to give her my details, after she expresses interest in reading our blog. She seems to respond well , but it is not until half an hour after we have left that I realise what I should have said is a) 'please give me your details' and b) 'let's go for a drink when we are both in Jo-burg on thurs night'.  The useless tardiness of this realisation niggles me vaguely for a while but then we bump into a giraffe standing resolutely in the road to demonstrate its superiority over the safari truck, which makes me forget all about it.  I didn't hear from her so I assume she isn't now following our blog, which is probably just as well given that I can't even remember her name.

JAMIE -

Two days of safari make one something of an expert and I have today come to the following conclusions:

a) leopards are bloody elusive and are probably a conspiratorially concocted fable designed by the park's workforce to lure one back for a second visit;

b) rhinos look fucking bad-ass;

c) furtively scanning the landscape for 8 hours really does take it out of you;

d) impala are everywhere (I have no guilt about eating one later for dinner);

e) giraffes look mental;

f) most other animals look quite nice.

I think we actually saw less today but the warmer, sunnier weather, together with our new level of expertise possibly made it the more enjoyable of the two days' drives and we felt satisfied upon returning for yet another superb meal. We actually went on this morning's walk by accident (we were supposed to go tomorrow), but it does mean we can lie in a little tomorrow (till 6:45am - ha!)

We have booked our hostel in Durban and are very much looking forward to a more urban, nightlifely stage of our holiday.

Sunday, 7th August

CHARLIE -

I wake up to the pain of an rather horrific eye inflammation, a combination of cold symptoms and non-removal of contact lenses.  This causes me to go through the first part of the day looking and feeling like I've been stabbed in the eye by a rabid vampire.  I run into a hot Hungarian girl at breakfast, and she makes a polite enquiry regarding this situation, which makes me aware that in order to be attractive during our brief conversation I'm going to have to rely solely on things like wit and charm. This does not go too well as it is 7am, and both of these are still well and truly tucked up in their respective recesses of my brain. 

We set off.  It takes a while to see anything, but then largely thanks to the expertise and knowledge of an American dude with a huge beard called Donnie, we are privy to a pretty thrilling rhino sighting, and later are afforded the privelege of watching a lioness guzzle an impala by the side of the road.  This is quite a find, and there are about 10 vehicles jostling for a good position.  The lioness, although extremely close seems totally oblivious to her audience.  I suppose their brains don't do self consciousness like ours.

JAMIE -

Safari is an awesome activity. Getting up at 7am was - don't get me wrong - less than entirely pleasant, but once we were all vehicled up and in the park there began an enthralling day of animal spotting and, for the most part, animal looking-for-but-can't-find-oh-just-where-the-fuck-are-they?-ing. Yes: safari is a frustrating pursuit but all the more addictive because of it. We weren't helped by the morning's very English weather: cold wind and rain. These conditions rendered our sightings somewhat sparse before lunch but the climate improved as afternoon wore on and we saw a lot in the closing hours of the day. The main highlights were some close-up elephants, some superb rhinos and the piece-de-resistance: a lioness devouring an impala carcass right by the roadside! Amazing stuff.

Dinner, as yesterday, was delicious and a few drinks saw me safely towards bed. Tomorrow is an early 5:45 rise for our morning walk!

Saturday, 6th August

CHARLIE -

'Right, lets get these drunk guys up eh' are the first words that enter my ears as Anthony and Andrew breeze good naturedly into the dorm. I look over to see a perplexed Jamie suddenly realise what is going on, and utter an appropriate whine of dismay. We are hungover. Jamie seems to be of the opinion that he 'wasn't that drunk'. I urge him to reconsider this opinion with various reminders that I won't embarrass him by elaborating on here.

Feeling like dogshit, we set off for Kruger national park in a minibus.  We attempt a conversation in south african accents. This results in many other accents being attempted.  Hours later we arrive and are met by a sweet lady with a vacant stare, who seems very unlikely to be running a game lodge in a safari park. We are shown to a rather nice treehouse with 4 single beds.  We consider the fact that it could look a bit gay if we sleep in adjacent beds when there are other options, and choose accordingly.  We sit round the campfire and chat to an interesting assortment of people.

JAMIE -

My first perception of the day was our hostel owner, the lovely Anthony, hollering "Oi, wake those two drunkos up!" down the corridor, followed by some already-forgotten statement to the effect that we would miss our ride to Kruger if we didn't get ourselves moving - all in very friendly, sarcastic spirit, of course.

Yes, last night was slightly messy. I have been far drunker, certainly, and we were only in the hostel lounge/bar area so it was hardly a big night out; but Damian, our Australian friend, turned out to be awesome and the White Russians went down a treat. I recall lots of excellent chats about everything (quantum physics being a highlight) and us watching 'District 9' and a varied dose of British comedy. Poor Andrew sleeps behind the bar, we discovered, and we had to tiptoe over him in order to procure beer from the bar to add to the mix. The final move of the evening was to irritate our roommates with our (well, my) drunken attempts to go to bed, before eventually slipping into a distinctly alcoholic slumber.

So, on to today then: the drive to Kruger was a hungover one and largely uneventful, save for Charlie's and my developing attempts to adopt South African accents, and an at-points beautifully landscaped journey through the mountains. It was almost dark by the time we finally arrived, but there was just time for a twilight drive in the safari jeep, during which we saw nothing big but spotted an assortment of smaller animals, the highlights of which were a pair of honey badgers. (Apparently these creatures are as hard as nails and even a car running over them will not kill them!)

Our lodge seems a lovely retreat and the host, though somewhat vacant and - well - MENTAL, is nevertheless extremely welcoming. Dinner was very tasty and we had a few drinks around the fire speaking to fellow safarigoers before retiring to our homely treehouse for the night.

Today, also, was Gend's day. Mate, I can't believe it has really been three years: I can still see you as clearly as if it were yesterday and strangely I feel closer to you out here, far from home. On this day for each of the past three years I have been in some far-flung foreign land and it feels right that I take my memory of you to all these exotic places - not quite sure why. So, I've been thinking of you a lot today, dude, and miss you more than I can say. From South Africa, all my love.

Friday, 5th August

CHARLIE -

We set off for a tour of Johannesburg and Soweto. We are in a car with a brazilian couple. He says very little. She has a compulsive addiction to taking pictures of absolutely everything, including seemingly unecessary things such as the view out the back of the motorway. I find this endearing. A large chirpy black dude drives. I think his name is Pasta, although perhaps it is Pastor - I am unsure. Jamie and I are sitting in the back of the 6-seater vehicle, and Jamie seems to come into immense difficulty whenever getting in or getting out is involved.  The seats in front are indeed a minor obstacle, but whereas most of the time I seem to manage it in one single manouvre, Jamie's methods are rather more haphazard.  At one point I am about to get in when I notice him lying across the seat in front in a sort of missionary position, his arms flailing like a disabled seal as he attempts to crawl across it onto the seat behind.  This causes me much hilarity. Apparently his knees are to blame.

Anyway, yes Johannesburg does seem slightly threatening, but I feel safe with Pasta. In Soweto we see a Favela - a collection of corrugated iron huts in which people live. They are tiny for the amount of people. They share communal portaloos, have one water pipe between them, and it all seems like a pretty awful way to live. They still seem happy though.

The Apartheid Museum is wicked. In particular we learn lots about Nelson Mandela, whose iconic face and grin I have always recognised but not until now have I realised quite what a legend he was.  Repeatedly having rejected offers of freedom when the terms offered were not to his satisfaction, he eventually manages to overturn apartheid completely and become president.  I find it almost disturbing how recent all these events were - well within my living memory.  I remember Mr. Ott - my headmaster at prep school, who was south african. This was happening at the time that I was at that school listening to his assemblies.  Did he ever mention any of it to us? Or would he have considered it too much for 7-11 year olds? I don't remember.

The Canadian girls have been replaced by two aussie guys.  I cordially invite them to share our white russians but they announce that they are 'going to be boring' and go to bed at half 9.  Unfortunately for them, we have chosen this as our night to get completely rat-arsed for for the first time, which is exactly what we proceed to do.  Having adopted another more like-minded aussie, called Damian, we drink, watch stuff and chat about the meaning of everything until well gone 4. Even more unfortunately for the 2 sleeping aussies, the only toilet we have access to is in the dorm right by their beds, and given the regularity which with our bladders demand evacuation during the course of the session, I'm fairly confident they want us to die well before the inebriated Jamie blunders in and turns on the main light to the angry protests of  'faacksake mate' which emanate from their corner of the dorm.

JAMIE -

T - 9 hours (9am): Bed gotten out of. Breakfast eaten. Tour car entered.

T - 8 hours: Full tour group (comprising three Brazilians and ourselves) collected. Tour guide, named Pasta, drives us to Johannesburg replete with interesting historical trivia.

T - 7 hours: One of the Brazilians appears to take photographs with the crazed, indiscriminate fervour of a hailstorm; every inch of the road must be documented. We have driven through Hillborough, the rough downtown area of Jburg. It has become apparent that the South African attitude towards the Nigerians is rather negative: they are rightly or wrongly blamed for the organized crime problems in the area.

T - 5 hours: Our trip has now involved a trip to Constitutional Hill and the constitutional courts. Nelson Mandella's awesomeness is becoming increasingly apparent, as is the significance of the year 1994 (the end of Apartheid). We have enjoyed a panoramic view of the city from the 'Top of Africa' building and driven around the township of Soweto and seen some of the slums.

T - 1 hour: Lunch was positively scrumptious. Pap seems to be the base eating stuff here and it's pretty nice. Vegetables were tasty and flavoursome; the central piece was the barbecued meat - I had some lovely chicken and spicy sausage. We have also visited the Apartheid Museum, which was extremely informative (overbearingly so, at times) and Charlie and I were able to cement our understanding by communicating the info to one of our Brazilian compatriots who spoke English fluently but seemed unable to read it. Oh, and Nelson Mandella is a complete fucking legend. I know that a large number of people have already been aware of this, but I certainly didn't appreciate quite HOW much this was the case and thought it was worthy of mention here.

T - 0 hours:

Dark rum - GO
Kahlua - GO
Milk - GO
All Systems GO
We are a go. Repeat: WE ARE A GO.
Prepare for launch...

T + 4:23 in the pissing morning: Houston, we have a problem.