Living with Lockdown 1

And so the lockdown looms - an unknown to all of us so used to personal freedom and wide open spaces. With a level of food security and comfort denied to many, the most difficult part of being confined to one's property would be proximity to the family. Contrary to popular opinion and society's ideals, this is not necessarily a sought after situation, and my first thought after thinking about crime levels - what will the drug dealers, gangsters and sundry criminals do for three weeks - was that domestic abuse will be the crime of choice. This did not go unnoticed by our esteemed Minister of Police, who pointed out that liquor sales would be prohibited and police would be on standby to answer distress calls. Let us hope this will be a way to fractionally reduce such abuse, which is not confined to the poor but encompasses every level of society.
On a lighter note, we will have the opportunity to dust every nook and cranny, scrub places that have never seen bathroom cleaner, perhaps pop our heads into the roof space to see that all is well under the rafters, and trim every tree within an inch of its life. I have been informed by He Who Can Fix Anything that we (the four of us) will be completely refurbishing the outside of the house - no mean feat and if we do it, I will be able to consider the lockdown a massive success.
None of this was on my agenda, as I pictured myself finishing my novel, painting three or four pictures and reading as many books as possible, interspersed with rustling up some tasty treats from my embarrassingly well-stocked larder. (I have kept it stocked since loadshedding began!)
Now that I won't be able to jump in my car and head for the hills, literally, things are not going to be easy and we will all have to adjust to close quarters for a while, particularly with forced labour in the offing. I hope I will find sufficient good humour to post a blog most days to document living with lockdown!
Took a last stroll to the lighthouse to enjoy the wild waves and fresh sea breeze blowing in from the South Atlantic. Such a privilege to live here!

Dilemma

The baboon situation is filled with conflicting emotions - pleasure when they amble quietly through the garden on their way to a more exciting place, laughter when the babies rough and tumble on the roof, anger when they pull the plants out of the pots and break branches or downpipes and fear when they show aggression, particularly towards your animals. But they also suffer these emotions and it is clear that they are stressed when the baboon monitors arrive to move them on with paintball guns and loud bangs. This causes them to sometimes run backwards and forwards in a panic and cause even more chaos as they don't know which direction to take, but once they calm down again, they seem to have adopted an attitude of, okay, that didn't actually hurt us so we'll take no notice.
Today was no exception as the largest group of the troop arrived at their personal playground (next door is preferred, then us) and gained access to food by breaking a bathroom window (not mine). Munching ensued and some gambolling on the roof, with a bite or two at the wi-fi cable, and all was peaceful. Then human interaction disturbed their reverie and all hell broke loose for about half an hour. We suffered more damage to the exterior and then the dog shredded my curtains, so I'm not exactly thrilled about that!
When they eventually moved on, a female with a tiny baby remained, trying to gain entrance to the food source, and she is in a sad state of health, really tragic to see the two of them just in survival mode.
Quo vadis?

Armchair travels 1

It's not often life gives us a long enough break to browse through memories of happy days, but now that most of our time is spent at home, I am ruthlessly reducing the clutter on the computer. Looking at so many evocative photos gave me the idea to share some armchair travel for the housebound for a while, so here we start:

Italy, 2008: A trip to Milan to visit my nephew who was working there, and adventures in Tuscany and Venice. A pictorial diary. It was August and Milan had closed down. Most shops were shut and trams weren't running, so we walked everywhere. No restaurants either. It was also a holiday weekend.

The canal linking Milan to Genoa - Leonardo da Vinci's design

Our first gelato - so hot we just sat on the pavement. No traffic.

Takeaways!

The Romans knew how to build!

Marzipan fruit

Cakes

We turned a corner and saw this breathtakingly beautiful pink marble building - Milan's Duomo, freshly cleaned of years of pollution.

I only ever ate chocolate gelato.

Marzipan gnashers!

The church opposite our apartment had a bell (level with our window) that rang every 15 minutes day and night!

Out of nowhere, a heavy cloudburst with lightning. The only shelter was a doorway with some dodgy looking companions, but they probably thought the same.

Autumn at last!

Autumn arrived grey and drizzly this morning, but our hiking group is not easily deterred, particularly when this is now the only real form of socialising left to the world - strung out along a trail in the wide open spaces. The clouds cleared and the precipitation paused as we set off from Die Kom on our way to the WW2 blockhouses on top of Slangkop. The path along the bay and the boardwalk to the lighthouse were practically deserted, but birdlife was plentiful and the sea was just gorgeous to behold - a silky smooth surface with gentle swells rippling in from the South Atlantic and a bulk carrier on the far horizon travelling slower than the smoke from its funnel.
Mild air and a northwesterly breeze are just what this hiker likes, and after the initial scramble up from the lighthouse, the zigzag path to the ridge where spotters watched for enemy shipping during WW2. It all seems so primitive in today's high-tech world, but I am sure a valuable service was provided. All that remains are walls for graffiti - the current array of giant birds that have been painted are rather fetching and obviously done by someone with talent!
Again, very few flowers are out at this time, but as we crossed the plateau, enjoying the marvellous panoramic views, we did spot ericas, restios, serrurias, masses of shrubs with tiny white flowers and a giant protea. Unfortunately, a large area is covered with fast-growing aliens which should be eradicated as soon as possible before they get to the flowering stage.
It was a delightful morning on the mountain enjoying the splendour of nature. The only blot was that I forgot to pack my coffee flask.

Die Kom at low tide, egrets wading

On the edge

Pic taken from home to prove I was there

Fresh air and sunshine on the menu!

Due to the ongoing monitoring of the Lion's Head fire from a few days ago, our walk along the pipe track above Camps Bay was cancelled in favour of the jeep track from Constantia Nek to Kirstenbosch and back - a generally flattish, easy walk along the contours of the Newlands mountains with sweeping views and ample shade. Of course, no hike would be complete without a detour from the main path and today was no exception. 

We took the right-hand fork by way of a change and descended a little way into the forest before taking a sudden left turn - we were going to have a little heart-rate increasing exercise by rejoining the upper contour via a straight uphill under the pine trees! Years of leaf-shedding meant that the thick carpet of pine needles gave no grip as we grappled our way upwards, looping arms around treetrunks for support and occasionally leaning against them to catch our breath. The slope rose ever steeply before us, the horizon blue sky, but we soldiered on and eventually reached the jeep track again, to find we had barely reached the turnoff to Eagles' Nest - a detour of a few hundred metres that burned off many calories!

The rest of our hike passed uneventfully and extremely pleasantly, with mothers and children taking time off to walk in nature, and dogs and bikes in abundance. 

We passed towering silver trees fighting for dominance over remnants from the pine plantation - signs of a healthy fynbos population - and two strongly flowing streams coming down from the mountain ravines, clear and unpolluted and fed by the life-giving reserves held in these natural sponges.

With more restrictions on social events, we can only hope that walking in the fresh air will remain an option as the world comes to terms with another major disease that threatens to change our lives in unknown ways.

Ever upwards!

Very tall silver trees

Abundant water

Eagles' Nest not nearly as intimidating as before

 

My Kalahari Adventure Part 4

As we headed north, we passed through the small town of Williston, where surprising places exist: a restaurant with décor, food and service to match any establishment in a large city, quite out of keeping with the streets devoid of cars and pavements where the locals pass the time hoping for chance employment. The years of drought have been unkind to the town and relief in the form of food supplies and water for both animals and people has become necessary. The other surprise was the Williston Mall, closed for some reason (hard to fathom when tourism can surely be the only source of income at present) and looking quaint and quirky from the outside. Not glassy and glossy like a city mall, but it shows enterprise, a sense of humour and perhaps a little desperation. It was a shame we couldn’t stroll through. However, time and distance are pressing matters when travelling in South Africa, and we didn’t linger to see if a face appeared at a window.

Our first night stop was at Brandvlei – named after a farmer, Brand, rather than a burning lake – and our accommodation was the original farmhouse. Having used up our battery power with enthusiasm on the way up from Beaufort West, we searched in vain for a plug to recharge cameras and phones, but of course this house was built before electricity reached such isolated parts of the country (if at all) and a solar panel on the roof was attached to a plug socket dangling in the kitchen which supplied hot water. Thankful for small mercies, we prepared ourselves to deal with intermittent access to such luxuries and became extremely efficient and organised, using multiplugs brought from home at every opportunity. While the great charm of distant places is the lack of contact with the outside world, it does take a little getting used to.

Old photographs of the original farmer and his wife adorned the walls, and an antique telephone (wall-mountable, handset and cords) reminded us again of our easy lives.

We braaied on the stoep, relaxing in the last heat of the day and watching the Karoo sunset reflected in the old concrete dam filled by the windpomp, doubling as a swimming pool for road-weary travellers – not us; we took the dust of the day off in the showers that had been added the rooms to meet the facility standards required for hired accommodation. No such luck for poor Madam Farmer way back when.

The stillness of the night descended upon us and the vast canopy of stars lit up the sky with a billion pinpricks of light. And so to bed.

Matjieskuil aka Hawksmoor House

Yesterday our wine-tasting group visited a little-known (but surely deserving to be on the map) wine farm out on the Joostenberg - one of the earliest farms laid out in the 17th century as evidenced by the original title deed on display, signed by Governor Simon van der Stel in 1692 - Matjieskuil/Hawksmoor House. It is a working farm supplemented by the facilities of guest house, winery and function venue. The very hospitable owners are hands on and give an innovative and entertaining wine-tasting experience of their offerings, which are very palatable and affordable. The history - old and new - is imparted as part of the experience and makes for a delightful day out, not an hour from Cape Town.
These outings are a wonderful way to find places one would never imagine existed, most be situated on little hillsides and in valleys in close proximity to the city and larger towns, but so unobtrusively as to be unnoticed as you fly by on a freeway or nearby arterial road. A few entail a bumpy ride down gravel roads, but nothing requiring a 4x4, and upon reaching these sudden oases in a landscape of dry vegetation and the oppressive heat of the Paarl winelands, the lush surroundings amply irrigated from underground water, one is transported backwards in time. White gables and Cape Dutch architecture, thatched roofs and duck ponds, spreading branches of old oaks and hectares of vines contribute as much to the attraction of the Cape wine routes as the pleasure of tasting the fruits of the labour. This farmhouse, dating back to 1712, retains much of its original character and charm, and the tasting and lunch took place at a long table in the centre, with the doors at front and back open to allow the faintest breeze. A view through the heat haze to Table Mountain reminded us where we were, and also that back in the day one would have been able to see the cannon fired from the slopes of Devil's Peak to advise of ships arriving in the bay for trade. That would be the signal for the farmer to load up his oxwagon and start the long trek to Table Bay - a few days back then!
A quick tour of the venue revealed a place to be put on the list for any special occasions. One of the secret places that should be found. (Wine tastings by appointment wines@hawksmoor.co.za)

Photo: Inga Van Steijn Page

Photo: Inga Van Steijn Page