We had driven over a thousand miles in our 2-wheel drive Toyota Yaris for three reasons: Sossusvlei, the Skeleton Coast, and Etosha. Our first destination was Sossusvlei and upon leaving Cape Town, I had the excitement and anticipation of the sand dunes pumping through my veins. The drive is not exactly convenient or easy from Cape Town to Sesriem (the town just outside of Sossusvlei), and towards the end of the drive I was begining to question whether the dodgy dirt roads and dents in the car would be worth the satisfaction of feeling the orange sand between my toes. It had been several days by the time we reached Sosssusvlei and by the time we had made it to Sesriem, we were all most excited about the cheap rental car having made it with no issues. There was not enough time to check out Sossusvlei that day so we stayed at a campsite 40km away.

The next morning, we were up and in the car by 5am to get in the line (aka the queue) for enterence into Sossusvlei. We waited for the gates to open until 6am and when they finally did, we went to turn on the car realizing to our horror that the car was dead. Nooooooo! Car after car passed by us as we sat there trying to wave someone down. What were we thinking… no one was going to stop and help us. They had waken up just as early as we had to try to make it to see the sunrise over the dunes. Luckily, Chris had come up with an alternative. He sat in the car as the three of us got behind the car and began pushing towards the gate. Slowly, we built up speed and just when we thought that it wouldn’t work, Chris stepped on the gas, and popped the clutch out with enough speed to start the car!!! YES! Having only lost 20 minutes, we hurridly purchased our permit inside the gate and was on our drive through Sossusvlei. Sixty kilometers later, the road had ended and we decided to park and walk towards the largest dunes 5km ahead. The sun was rising as we began our climb onto the largest dune. The African sun hit the dunes perfectly creating a god-like orange hue on the sand. The shadows exaggerated the perfectly edged lines of the dunes creating unique shadows to each mound of sand. The hike upward drew on as the sun baked the earth. Not yet all the way up, we stopped to strip down to our bottom most appropriate layer. It was then that I recognized that the sun burns so hot during the days that it scorched the sand. The sunny side of the dunes showed a black hue on the surface from the heat of the sun’s rays. ‘Did I bring enough water with me?’ I thought as I wiped sweat off my forehead. This hike had better be worth it.

Reaching the top turned out to be more than worth it. It was breath taking! More so, it was one of the most amazing things that I’ve ever seen in my life. The orange hued sand contrasted dramatically against the bright tourquoise blue sky. There were few green shrubs that managed to survive the heat of the sun below. In certain areas where water would collect at the base of the dunes were white sand floors. From above the white sand pools looked like a winter’s lake frosted over with snow. The sand dunes extended in all directions for as long as we could see. It was brilliant, beautiful, breathtaking, energizing, and peaceful. Enjoying the scene, the four of us took off our shoes, put our toes in the sand and enjoyed this once in lifetime view.

Photo taken from Izla Kaya (izla on Flickr)

We were driving between the Skeleton Coast and Kamanjab when we drove through a small little village carved into the edge of a rocky hill along the dust covered dirt road. It always interests me in whitnessing other’s lifesyles, ways of transportation, careers, and education so I stared out the window intently hoping this villiage would be able to provide some insight for me as to what it’s like as we passed by. The first sight I experienced will be blazed into my mind forever. We had come to a T in the unmanaged dusty dirt road with a sign giving directions to two towns. Under the sign were a group of boys no older than ten years old. As we had stopped in front of the sign, three of the boys began running towards our car, barely clothed, minimal meat on their small set frame, and no shoes on their feet rubbing their bellies asking for food. They chased after our car, sprinting along with their small bare feet on the rocky unpaved roads asking for food. The pain in their eyes was unbearable. It was heartwrenching. I wanted to stop and cradle them in my arms. I wanted to stop and give them a hearty meal. I wanted to stop and give them money. I wanted to stop, hug them and tell them everything would be okay. I wanted to stop and understand their pain. But stopping wasn’t an option for us. Our gas gauge had been running on empty half way up the Skeleton Coast and the last thing we could do is stop and get stranded in a place with no fuel stations, much less cars. As we drove further through the small town, I peered out the window to see extremely small houses… no, extremely small outhouse-sized shacks in which a whole family lived in. The goats and cows roamed freely and the best mode of transportation I saw was a man with his two sons riding a half broken down wagon pulled by a donkey. There were no signs of work, therefore there were no signs of making money to live. There was no farming to provide food because the land was too dusty, dry and hot. There were men, women and children alike sitting along side the road. Some of them were sitting in the dirt, some of them were standing peering out with lifeless eyes. There was a family trying to hitch a ride to the next closest town. It made me wonder what it was that had them needing to go to the other town. There was a small school burried between the village’s living areas. The school was tiny and didn’t look adequate enough to house and educate the children and people of its community. Where did the teachers learn the information to share with their students? So many questions ran through my mind as something dawned on me. These people are living on land that is not suitable for farming, not large enough to bring in revenue, not easily accessible to bring in goods and people, and not connected enough to make people aware of their issues. Meanwhile, I was concerned about running out of fuel to make it to the next town?!?!? My mindset changed in an instant. I was instantly happy to have an adequate roof over my head, shoes on my feet, food in my belly, and a family who has raised me and given me everything I’ve ever needed to be successful. It was then that I promised myself to be more flexible, more understanding, more positive and most of all more gracious for the people and things that I have been given in life.

It was late Tuesday night in Cape Town and we were staying with Andy, a friend of a friend. It was our first night with him and because we had arrived at his house late that evening, we had just enough time for a key exchange to the place we’d be sleeping for the next few days. Upon entering his house, I dropped my bag, got ready for bed and crawled into the sleeping bag which extended on the pullout sofa in the living room. I had drifted off to a deep sleep when I woke up to a knock on the door. ‘Was I imagining it?’ I asked myself half awake. ‘Could someone really be knocking on the front door at..,’ I looked at my watch, ’3:00am?’ I layed there for a bit before I heard the knock again, this time louder. The security light on the front porch would earily go on and off with the movement of the rapper outside. I tried to reason with myself; ‘maybe he’s just drunk and trying to find his way home.’ The knocking stopped for a few minutes until the security sensored light came on and suddenly the criminal outside was picking the locks. I was horrified. This must be a nightmare. I sat there numb thinking this guy was going to find a way in no matter how long it took. The picking continued as he got closer and closer to entering Andy’s house.  I laid absolutely still in my sleeping bag, a cold sweat collecting all over my body. ‘Should I wake up Andy?’ ‘Should I call the Cape Town police?’ ‘Should I just lay here hoping that he won’t notice the blob of sleeping bag with my body under it?’ Frozen by fear I chickened out and laid there deathly still praying that he would pass over me if or when he broke in. And suddenly, the lock clicked, and the door opened. ‘Oh dear god, please don’t let this be true,’ I muttered under my breath. The man walked slowly and quietly down the hall right to the living room. He stopped for a second before moving on into the kitchen and toward the back room. I sat there breathing shallowly under my sleeping bag while the intruder disappeared into the back room and became silent. ‘What is he doing?’ I thought to myself. I laid there like this for the next 45 minutes not hearing another sound. ‘Maybe he snuck out the back window?’ I thought. I laid there as attentive as possible until I slowly drifted into a restless light sleep. I woke up the next morning paranoid by what had happened the night before. Do I dare go to the bathroom by the back room?

Later on, I told Andy what had happened and it was then that I found out that he has a flatmate who lives in the back room. Apparently, he works late in the restaurant business and was trying to get into his own house. I felt like such a fool. The ironic thing is, we locked him out of his own house. To make matters worse, I almost called the police on him. After hearing the new info, I sat there thinking ‘ well at least it pays to be a chicken sometimes.’

There are several tourist and non-tourist attractions in Cape Town. One of those attractions is visiting the Penguin Colony at the Boulders in Simon’s Town. I dragged Chris along one morning to make a trip to Cape Point and the Penguin Colony. I was extremely excited to see the penguins because growing up in the mountains, I didn’t exactly get my share of penguin viewing. From Cape Town, we took the R$5 (~US$0.60) train down to Simon’s Town and then walked 30 minutes to the penguins. Thoughts after having seen them? Dirty, domesticated, touristy, and completely overrated. I would instead suggest skipping the Penguin Colony and head straight South to Cape Point. Yes, it’s still touristy, but it’s much more beautiful, educational, and refreshing. Plus there’s a bonus: there are gangs of wild baboons that hang out along the road AND there’s a small chance you’ll see whales and zebras too!

Needless to say, travelling the world allows us the opportunity to meet several unique individuals from all walks of life at any place and time. Table Mountain was one of those opportunities. Chris and I had passed two Saudi men eating their lunch just meters from the summit. Chris and I did not think about bringing food on our hike so when the Saudi men joined us at the peak, we began speaking with them about how they were smart to have brought food with them. We began talking with them more when one of them offered us his sandwich and a banana. He had packed extra and could see we were hungry. After much resistance, we accepted the food and continued on with our conversation. He asked us where we were from and we told him we were from the US. “Oh, Americans hate us…” was his response. We were shocked. ‘Hate you?’ I thought… What a stereotype. I pondered this for a second and then realized that America has harshly stereotyped much of the Middle East for several years now. Too many Americans blindly and unjustifiably associate terrorist activity with everyone in the Middle East. Chris and I spoke with them about the issue, the misunderstanding, and our plan to learn more about the situation as we trek through the Middle East in a few months.

We ended up hiking down the mountain with them sharing stories with each other along the way. By the end of our day hike, we had learned more about their family, their religion, and their lifestyle than most people know about their neighbours. We exchanged information and have since been in touch. Chris and I will be joining them for traditional Arabic coffee tomorrow. Not surprising, they are two of the most unique, generous, and humble human beings I have ever met.