I used my last few days in South Africa to tie up loose ends and explore a little of Johannesburg, the city which inspired plenty of fear in me and most people who pass through it.

I organized a custom tour with the same guide who took me around Soweto.

We visited Constitution Hall, the site of an old prison which held the likes of Nelson Mandela and Gandhi, and currently features the country's constitutional court (akin to The Supreme Court in the United States).

I wanted to enjoy a great meal as well, so we went to Gramadoelas in the theater district.

It has played host to many notable people, including Bill and Hillary Clinton!

When the guide first asked the host if there were any tables available, he said no, however, we managed a table outside without any sense of being rushed the whole meal.

In fact, we were the first to hit the buffet which was a beautiful sight inside the restaurant. At $19, it was costly but worth it.

In particular, I enjoyed the tandoori chicken, bobotie (traditional Cape Malay dish of mincemeat topped with a fried egg), potato salad, chocolate mousse cake, and malva pudding (traditional Capetonian dessert).

The ox tripe was about as awful as it sounds (but hey, I tried!).

Samp (beans and corn), reportedly Mandela's favorite, was also not my style either.

After lunch, we visited the top of Africa's highest building at the Carlton Center.

Peering up at it, I had trouble believing a 50-story building was the tallest on the continent, but maybe I'd lost sight of how much more developed South Africa is compared with any other country in Africa.

The 360-degree views of the metropolitan area were worth the dollar or two admission, though hills obscured Soweto.

I finished the day with souvenir shopping at the Broma Crafts market a few blocks from Bob's Bunkhouse.

There were masks from all over Africa, but some of the ones which looked cool in the shop would probably be an eyesore at home.

I opted for a small, black mask with inlaid beadwork from Ghana.

I spent my day after the safari at one of the big malls outside Jo'burg uploading photos to Flickr, buying a new rain-resistant jacket to replace my deteriorating North Face jacket, and catching a matinee showing of "Quantum of Solace."

The mall was decorated for the holidays, with cheerful music playing over the sound system. It reminded me of home.

The next day was spent touring Soweto, the 4-million person mega-township of Johannesburg.

It is so large, it has two or three professional soccer teams and stadiums within its borders.

I used the opportunity to complete a dare (which will come in the next post), much in thanks to the flexible and jovial guide.

Unfortunately, I didn't get under the skin of Soweto as I'd wanted.

I knew it would require at least one night at Soweto Backpackers, but I was so happy to have five straight nights lined up at Bob's Bunkhouse before my camping excursion in Botswana, I decided to stay put.

The Apartheid Museum was also on my " must-see" list for the area, and I spent two hours walking through it, learning more about the genesis of the movement and the notable figures of resistance.

Myself, Lea (Belgium) and Moira (Canada) awoke before dawn for a 3-hour game walk near camp with two armed park rangers.It was my last chance to see a leopard, or maybe even a lion, though the idea of encountering any of the animals up close was concerning.We started with a thirty minute drive as the fuscia sun slowly rose up from the horizon.The first animal was a spotted hyena crossing the road a few hundred meters in front of us.The driver sped up to see if we could get closer.Luckily, the hyena had stopped in the brush on the left hand of the road, giving us enough time to spot it dart down an embankment and across a dry riverbed.

Next, we turned down a dirt road with a " do not enter"? sign, and proceeded to drive across the same sandy riverbed, only we got stuck three quarters of the way.We all got out and helped to push the truck free.Once on the other end, we receive the rules of the walk, single file, hand signals instead of talking, don't separate from the group (herd) lest you want to stick out like easy prey for a local lion, and follow the rangers' instructions.We set off, one ranger scouting ahead at all times, while the other waited with us for his report.

Ten minutes into the walk, we stumbled upon a group of bachelor buffalo, nicknamed Duggaboys.Hang around safari guides long enough, or read a book by one as I had done in Laos, and you'll learn bachelor buffalo are the most feared of the Big 5, or perhaps any of the animals in the bush.While other beasts give one or more warning signs before a charge or attack, the buffalo has perfected it's poker face.

The scout walked a little to our left, while we stood nervously by the other ranger who whispered to us the " OK"? to take photos. I was the only one who managed to move around enough to get one, asking Lea to take it. We left after two or three minutes, one of the guides saying there was a 50-50 chance the buffalo would've charged us. Later, we learned these odds were coming from a guy who had previously been charged and trampled by a black rhino in the park.

We proceeded to walk further into the bush, an area the rangers said was new to them as well.Given Kruger Park is the size of Israel, I believed them.If they were playing up the experience for us tourists, I couldn't tell.We passed all kinds of animal prints, zebra, elephant, giraffe, buffalo.A light breakfast was offered amongst some rocks in an otherwise open field.While eating cheese and crackers, I asked about some large birds of prey circling in the distance.The scout said they could either by circling a fresh kill, or riding thermals.Either way, it was a point of interest so we headed straight for them.

Once we reached the line where the open grass turned to thicker bush, the scout turned around to us and said " if a lion charges us, don't run."? My heart was thumping, and adrenaline coursing, as we followed the rangers. Earlier, they informed us 99% of attacks happen to the front of a group, which explained why they both walked in front of us. Also, if one guide was in trouble in front, and the other was at the rear, he'd have to shoot over the customers which could get messy! Regardless, it was hard not to fantasize about a lion knocking off the last person in the line with a surprise pounce.

We crept along, wondering what the eagles were so interested in ahead of us. I wanted to see a lion, but I didn't want to have to remain still if I saw one running straight toward us. The chances were slim the rangers would need to shoot anything though, as only 1.2 animals are killed per year in Kruger Park, a statistic which speaks to the experience of the guides and their respect for the wild animals. Ten minutes later, we left the birds behind, one of the guides saying either the kill was too fresh for there to be a scent in the air, or the birds were innocuously riding thermals. Back at the truck, we traversed the riverbed with no trouble, and were dropped off back at camp.

Elson, our guide from the previous day, drove us back to Timbavati Lodge, where we had a nice buffet breakfast, before motoring the five hours back to suburban Jo'burg.I opted to stay at Bob's Bunkhouse, the hostel Lea had chosen

Upon first sight, it was far cleaner and friendlier than Gemini, and as I surmised, the other big hostels of the area. Lea and I bought some South African wine and cheese and toasted a successful safari while Bob and wife Joan, and their friends and adult sons, cooked up a braai in the backyard.

I arranged to stay a full third day in the park since I had yet to see a rhino, let alone a leopard. Luckily, Livingstone Trails could accommodate my request. It was also nice to relax into the rhythm of each day, now that I knew the routine.

Highlights on day 3 included a black-backed jackal sniffing around a dwarf mongoose hiding in a dead tree. The mongoose would pop its head out of a small hole each time the jackal move away. These interactions are a lot more interesting than watching impala stand motionless under a tree during the mid-day heat!

We also spotted the same lions as the first day, only they were about 100 meters back from the road this time, meaning they were barely visible without binoculars.

Despite being so far away, they were still fun to watch, and we stuck around a good 15 minutes. The lead truck, which I was in on this day, stalled again. Stuard bravely stepped out of his truck, cited how highly illegal it was for him to exit the vehicle in the park (let alone in the vicinity of 5 lions), and gave the truck the necessary push start.

At the end of the day, I overheard another guide telling Stuart about how his truck saw 2 lionesses kill a zebra and drag its body down a river embankment (and out of view). It must've been quite a sight!

Hippos, elephant, zebra, giraffe, impala. The usual suspects were all present on Day 4.

In the lead truck, we were entertained by Elson, the Livingstone guide. Being the first truck meant we had the best chance to see wildlife before it potentially ran away from the road and further back into the bush.

I caught a glimpse of a white rhino towards the very end of the day. Through my binoculars, I saw its full profile with the big horn, but it didn't stick around long, and soon all I saw was its butt chugging further back into the dense bush.

Back at camp, I saw a much better sunset from atop the water towers then I did on the sunset game drive.  We heard and spotted a hyena patrolling around our campsite as well.  Shining a flashlight out into the darkness, its glowing eyes peered back at us.

Still hoping to spot a leopard, I signed up for a 3-hour morning game walk my last day, rather than another drive.

It's amazing how much of a sense of security a chain link fence provides. I slept well my first night in the park, if only for 5-6 hours. Around 6am, we received our new arrivals while several people left. Since Livingstone Trails offers daily departures from Jo'burg to Kruger Park, there is a constant rotation of people in and out of the camp.

The morning drive was always going to be our best chance to spot the more elusive animals such as the leopard, and I was hopeful to see a black or white rhino as well, though neither presented themselves. We did happen upon an elephant eating right next to the road which was cool.

See enough giraffes, antelope, and zebra, and even the smallest new creature becomes more exciting. The lead guide stopped his truck so we could all peer down at a slow-moving chameleon.

Seeing "a kill" first hand, where one predator takes out the prey right before your eyes, is almost completely dependent on luck. The Swedish guy whose tent I shared had been on safaris all across Africa and never seen one, while other people can luck out and see it their first time in Kruger. Coming across a freshly wounded buffalo was as close as I got to the real action in Kruger Park. The gaping, lion paw-sized, chunk of hide missing from the buffalo's back was a clear indication of violence the night before. Through my binoculars, blood could be seen dripping down the buffalo's side. He was literally licking his wound from time to time. Stuart (the guide) said it would heal within a week, and was likely the result of a lion attack the prior night.

We stopped by the local hippo pool again, though this time we spotted a small crocodile right next to the road.

Livingstone Trails had one truck, and it clearly wasn't working properly. It often required a push start, which was not the safest situation in a park filled with 2,000 lions!

After the third game drive of the second day, I had my 3-hour sunset/night drive, making for upwards of 9 hours searching for wildlife. On one hand, it's easy to sit on your butt while the guide does the driving. On the other hand, it's very hot once the sun comes up, you're exposed to the dirt from the roads, and it's hard to remain attentive when you're not seeing any new animals.

The highlight of the night drive was a couple of Mozambique spitting cobras we saw slithering across the road. To our collective disappointment, we saw no leopards, no lions, and no cheetah.

Up at 5am, on the road to the park by 5:30am, and in the gate when it opened at 6am, we dropped our backpacks and sleeping bags off at Livingstone Trails' permanent camp within the park, and climbed aboard a modified Toyota pick-up for our first morning game drive.Our safari guide was named Stuart, and while he didn't work for Livingstone, he was hired from time to time when they were busy.

Within the first hour, we saw impala (the park is overpopulated with them), wildebeest, zebra, waterbuck, warthogs, and various birds of prey including the large Marshall Eagle.The second hour brought close encounters with giraffe.

The third hour brought us some elephant and buffalo.The Spanish guys were in the back seat, and constantly climbing outside the vehicle while it was driving, despite Stuart's instructions not to even keep an arm hanging outside it (lest a big cat sneak up and try to knaw it off).I found them distracting in this regard, like a couple of over-excited kids you always had to keep an eye on.

The standard breakfast of eggs, bacon, and a mix of tomatoes, mushrooms, and onions was cooked up at one of the Park's larger camps around 9:30am.Cereal, bread, fruit, coffee and tea were also available.The customers helped with the food prep and dishwashing, which is to be expected on a budget tour.One of the guys spotted a big lizard in the leaves a few feet from us which was cool.

Big breakfasts under our belts, we set off on the second game drive of the day, encountering babboons, kudu, and my first hippos.They prefer to stay under water during the day, leaving much to the imagination except the tops of their heads.In the evenings, hippos can travel long distances in search of food and new watering holes.The guides say if you see a hippo on land, it's already too late.They kill more people in Africa than any other animal.

Soonafter seeing the hippos, we came across our first lions.Everyone was excited.They were literally 5-10 meters from the dirt road, resting under the shade of a few trees.Young males.5 of them.Two cars were already observing them when we rolled up as well.Despite being in an open vehicle, it didn't feel dangerous.

Humans aren't their type of meal, nor did they have a reason to attack us given all the impala and zebra running around.A few of them rolled over on their backs, and later got up and layed down next to each other.Stuart said they were doing a little male bonding.We spent about 15 minutes there before driving onward.

Lunch consisted of make-your-own sandwiches, and we ate at a different picnic site in the park, near the eastern border with Mozambique. Our third and final game drive of the day followed. We saw more of the same animals from earlier in the day, minus the lions and hippos. As we headed back to our camp, with the sun going down, we spotted some red mongoose crossing the road.

In the evening, we ate dinner an sat around the campfire talking and drinking cold beers, the perfect end to a day in the bush. People who were there prior nights told of a hyena visiting camp, and an elephant, but we saw neither. Instead, Stuart had us all pause to hear the sound of a male lion patrolling its territory. It was very cool to be camping in the park, with just a chain link fence and some electrified wire separating you from the wildlife.

The price for my hasty departure from Gemini Backpackers was a 5:30am pick-up, and another full day of driving.The thought of having to spend another night in the dreary dorm was enough to get me out of bed on time.Gideon, the driver for Livingstone Trails, then spent the next two hours picking up customers from various backpackers around suburban Jo'burg until we had a van filled with 10 people:2 Spanish guys, 2 Australian girls (though one was originally from South Africa), 3 other Americans, including a father/son combo (again, the parent visiting the son studying abroad), a lawyer from Alexandria, VA (a few miles from my home), a Swede with whom I would share my tent within Kruger, and an English chap.

We then made our way east, taking a break from the van for a sit-down lunch before scenic stops along the Panorama Route.First up was a view of Blyde River Canyon.Second, and more interestingly, was Bourke's Luck where the pebbles swirled around by the confluence of two rivers has created unique potholes out of the rock.And there was a nice waterfall too.Lastly, we stopped at the Three Rondavels.Erosion created hills resembling the traditional Xhosa rondavels which I had first seen along the Wild Coast.

Everyone was glad to reach the 3-star Timbavati Safari Lodge 30km outside of central Kruger's Orpen Gate.We claimed safari tents (with regular mattresses) which were already erected, washed up, and met at the bar in anticipation of dinner and entertainment.Gideon had us in the dining area first, so we also hit the buffet before the rest of the guests.The tables were set outside around a campfire, and the traditional African food was delicious.

After dinner, a group of kids gave a performance. It started with the boys dancing while the girls sang.Fifteen minutes into the show, one of the boys came to our table for volunteers.The audience participation was about to begin, and I decided to accept the invitation.The English guy also joined me and we danced around on the sand in front of the whole camp in an attempt to mimic the boys.Then, it was the ladies' turn, with a few from the bigger (notably older) tour group getting up to shake their hips while the boys sang.

Before bed, I hung out with a few of the guys from our group at the little poolside bar. There, we encountered a speedy arachnid (not a spider according to a safari guide who was all too happy to try and catch it for us), and my first big dung beetle (though not of the rare flightless variety found in Addo Park). The barman also told us they had recently fished a cobra out of the pool.

Three nights in the Drakensberg were enough for me, however due to the Baz bus schedule between Durban and Jo'burg, I was required to spend a fourth day and night. I was satisfied with the two day tours, and spent my free day writing and hanging around the lodge (bored). In the evening, I played Scrabble with a few German women and the lodge's manager and son.

The next morning, I took a two hour shuttle to connect with the Baz bus, and held on for the day long ride to Johannesburg. I had trouble deciding where to stay, and settled on Gemini Backpackers. I've learned the hard way that a hostel offering free internet access usually has a slow connection, ancient computers, or both, and Gemini was no different. If the dorm, toilets, and showers were in better condition, I might not have minded. And then there was the location, amidst the township of Alexandra. Its travel desk was really the reception counter, though to his credit, the manager was helpful in booking two tours for me.

First, I decided to get out of dodge immediately by booking a 4-day trip to Kruger Park departing the next day. Through the same company, Livingstone Trails, I also put down a deposit on a 7-day camping trip to Botswana's Okavango Delta. In between, I hoped to find a better hostel from which to base myself and tour a little of Johannesburg and Soweto (township).

I will be back another time, with sufficient funds, to join an overland tour of eastern Africa from Victoria Falls to Nairobi. In the meantime, I figured two smaller camping trips would be a good way to get a feel for the experience.

I departed Durban for the Sani Pass Lodge, a great starting point for tours into Lesotho and hikes in the southern Drakensberg Mountains. The elevation is about 1,500 meters. I decided to spend my first day on a five-hour return hike to see some San rock art in its natural environment.

When we left the lodge in the morning, the weather was great: blue skies, puffy white clouds, and green grass running up the slopes of the lower mountains we would be hiking around. Our guide was enthusiastic about the rock art, which made for a fascinating tour.

He explained that the paintings we viewed at three different sites were thought to be between 200 and 2,000 years old. Although thousands of these paintings are in the region, only a few can actually be carbon-dated.

The oldest in South Africa is thought to be about 10,000 years old, while the oldest in southern Africa are found in Namibia at 20,000 years old. Though it was the same San people who made them all.

The most common depictions were scenes from the spirit realms where elands, the largest antelope species in the region, were of special significance. After a picnic lunch, clouds started to roll closer to us, and the winds picked up so we made a hasty retreat back to the lodge.

The next tour would prove to be more exciting - a 4x4 drive up the steep and rocky Sani Pass (2,800 meters) into the kingdom of Lesotho, followed by a 4-hour return hike to Hodgson's Peak (3,250 meters), and a drink at the highest pub in Africa!

I chose to stay at Tekweni Backpackers, yet another party hostel, due to its proximity to restaurants along a popular street a mere block away. It thrilled me even more to find a swanky, one month old internet cafe nearby as well. I wrote off sightseeing in Durban long ago, considering the required metropolitan stopover as a way to figure out my future travel plans and catch up on blogging and photo-uploading instead.

I changed my flight date to Cairo, allowing for a few extra weeks in southern Africa. To my surprise, the cost was double what I expected. Something about $50 to change the date, and almost another $50 to reissue the ticket. Given it's an electronic ticket, the fees seemed steep, but a refund minus $100 would take too long, 5-8 weeks.

The guy at the travel desk was very helpful and patient, calling a bunch of overland tour companies on my behalf. My first, second, third, and fourth choices were all booked which was discouraging, though I was given a booklet for a budget company called Livingstone Trails. When I Google'd them, the one review which came up was a decidedly negative diatribe by an American woman. It was enough to keep me from putting down a deposit. Instead, I decided to wait until I reached Johannesburg to make a final decision.

As a throwback to watching the movie Hostel at a hostel in Christchurch, New Zealand, I happened to watch the sequel, Hostel 2, at Tekweni's in Durban. It was gross.

Another benefit of being back in an urban environment, beyond affordable, high-speed internet access, is the prevalence of good restaurants and cafes. I seized the opportunity to eat a 3-course meal at Butchery Boys, a Lonely Planet recommendation near the hostel. I savored a beef carpaccio, and was in heaven with a well-cooked chunk of Eland with mustard mash(ed potatoes). I pushed it too far by ordering dessert, the classic Cape Town Malva pudding.

I joined about eight other guys on the ten minute walk to the villager's home where we would be entertained and fed. We sat outside for a few minutes, sampling the local brew (the best I've tried so far, though using a communal cup is getting old), before entering the rondavel.

As the sun went down, the only light source was the candles stuck to the inside walls (amazingly, they never fell off). Before dinner, we were treated to traditional singing and dancing from four of the village women. A drummer provided the backbeat, and we all clapped along.

Dinner followed the performance. First, a few communal beer cups were passed around with most of us taking a swig out of respect for our hosts. Then, we received massive servings of pap (mashed rice in block form) with cabbage. I cleaned my plate thinking it was the only course, though a second soon followed. It was some type of mealy dish, heavy and thick. Few of us were able to finish the surprise course.

A Q&A followed dinner, with our guide acting as a translator. Then, we were treated to a second performance. None of us were able to escape without dancing as well. The villagers wanted us to stay longer, but we were getting tired, so we parted ways in the dark, desperately trying to walk near our guide who bore the only flashlight.

I heard a bit of drumming from a group of kids with one adult at Bomvu, the hippier hostel across the dirt path from The Coffee Shack. They didn't play for long that night, having given a longer performance the prior night.

The next morning, I decided to leave Coffee Bay for Durban. Coffee Bay was no Bulungula, so I cut my losses given the Baz bus doesn't run daily at this point in their route. I spent 8 uneventful and tiring hours in the shuttle and bus, reaching Tekweni Backpackers after dark.

The weather was great when I woke up to my second morning in Bulungula. Despite my ready desire to leave after two nights, I was surprised to find my ride out of the village would leave immediately after breakfast. At the time, I foolishly thought a more touristy destination would be better. I said goodbye to my new French friends, and rode shotgun over the hills and streams out of the village. The driver could not have navigated the tough terrain better.

Despite the bumps, the drive was incredibly scenic and sitting in the front seat was far more comfortable than riding in the back. I was dropped off at the juncture with the paved road to Coffee Bay, and the driver hailed me a minivan taxi. I accepted the offer for the front seat and the female driver rolled onward to the beat of trance on the stereo. Halfway there, I had to switch to a different minivan taxi, this time being relegated to the back seat where the black gentleman to my right smiled at me glaringly. I got the impression tourists on the local taxis are not too common.

I was let off the second taxi a few minutes walk from The Coffee Shack. At the end of my hostel tour, I received a complimentary drink, however the grounds were devoid of backpackers. Everyone was at the beach, surfing, or otherwise enjoying the day, and the newest arrivals from the Baz bus were still hours away. I surveyed the grounds, and checked out the local drum shop where I took an impromptu one hour lesson.

I signed up for a weekly dinner at the home of the head villager. I also garnered some advice from a girl in my dorm about whether to visit Mozambique, Botswana, or Victoria Falls.

At 3pm, Magali, Sebastien and I set off on a guided tour of the surrounding Xhosa village. Wearing flip-flops was a mistake, as we were soon traversing the grassy, manure-covered hills upon which the homes were built. Sheep, cattle, goats, and donkeys grazed freely while the Bulungula dog (and others) followed us everywhere.

Our guide, a local woman, wore an orange mud mask to guard her skin against the sun. She seemed to speak a mix of Xhosa and English, thus making it difficult to understand her at times. Later, I confirmed that as I was trouble understanding her, the French couple all but gave up trying to ask questions.

We were invited inside enough of the traditional rondavel homes to get a sense of how sparsely the people lived. Aside from clothes, blankets, and cooking pots, there was little in the way of material possessions. Nobody had electricity, though a few places featured battery-powered radios and cassette players. We were warmly welcomed into the unofficial shebeen (unlicensed bar), the locals greeting us with a special handshake. A bucket of the local brew was passed around, which tasted no better than what I drank on the township tour in Cape Town.

Men and women sat on opposite ends of the homes, and when we visited a white tent erected for an impending funeral, only the men waited inside. We asked a few questions through our guide, while one of the guys asked me what I thought about my country's election of a black man, Barack Obama, as president. I was happy to respond that I was proud of America, and though our new president would do a good job.

As our tour wound its way up the hills toward a new school under construction, we ran into little kids who wanted their picture taken. I was reticent at first, unsure of whether they would ask for money in return, however once I started taking photos, I found they were happy just to see themselves posing in the camera's display window. It was a fast way to make friends too, as I quickly had one child holding each of my hands as I walked along.

Soon Magali and Sebastian had a few kids as well, and our merry band moved onward as the Bulungula dog continued to bark and chase anything in our path, including donkeys, goats, and cows. Walking with the kids was precious. I couldn't help but be self-conscious though. I was sure it smacked of a " feed the children"? commercial, but they seemed so happy about our presence, I wasn't about to let cynicism ruin the experience.

Our last stop was atop a high hill with a commanding view of the village and coast. Up here, we saw the old school which had collapsed, the current school which was nothing more than a few milk crates for seats and broken sections of chalkboard, and the site of the new school under construction. As the sun went down and the winds picked up, a full rainbow appeared as we headed back to Bulungula.

A few new groups of people had arrived so the atmosphere was livelier the second night. Dinner consisted of traditional fish and veg frikkadels (both in big round ball form) with dhal, rice, sambals, and green salad. Magdali had studied food and wine at university, and worked for a restaurant at home in Bordeaux, so I took the opportunity to share my spare bottle of Fairview Merlot with her (while Sebastian stuck with the beer). Somewhere along the way, I was also offered the chance for a personal tour of the world's most renowned wine region as I had mentioned plans to stop by Paris soon. :)

I awoke to a cloudy morning in Bulungula, but at least the rain had stopped. I surveyed the scene outside my window. A cow. A few rondavels on a grassy hilltop. I made my way to the lounge area where I ordered a breakfast of eggs, bacon, and solar-powered Xhosa bread. It was one of my best breakfasts in a long time.

Curiosity then lead me a short walk to the rocks and tidal pools uncovered by low tide. Villagers were by the water's edge collecting mussels and fishing. I went for a short walk along the barren beach before returning to the lodge for a rocket shower.

The owners of Bulungula are on a mission to showcase ecologically friendly ways of running a business, as well as culturally and ethically sensitive strategies for developing local tourism. Staying in their backpackers was an experience in itself, let alone the fact that it was so well integrated into a Xhosa community overlooking a beautiful section of coastline where a river meets the Indian Ocean.

So what's a rocket shower, you ask? Pour some paraffin into the base of a vertical pipe, insert a few sheets of toilet paper to act as the wick, and light on fire. One pipe of water is kept cold, for regulating the temperature, while the other is heated up. Rocket showers certainly put the fun back in bathing as you stand there naked, while a fluttering, burping fire flashes near your feet and water washes down from above.

The fun continues with composting toilets. These unique toilets have two sections, the small front area for pee, and the larger back area for poop. After going number two, you dump two scoops of soil from a nearby bucket onto your deposit, and close the lid. Nature handles the rest. Urinals are also available for the men. Both options help preserve the lodge's water supply which is 100% dependent on rainfall. Electricity is used sparingly, and sourced from solar panels on the roof of the main building. To the South African owner's credit, 40% of the lodge is owned by the local villagers.

By late morning, the sun was shining and blue skies battled back the clouds. I spent the hour before lunch writing on my laptop with a view to die for, much to Magali's amusement (given we were in a remote village with no electricity). We all chose the local option for lunch, meaning whatever the staff would normally eat, we would too. The rice with onion and spinach was surprisingly tasty.

When I received word the children's recital was canceled because they couldn't walk to school in the rain, I left Buccaneers for Bulungula, a new eco-friendly backpackers set further up the coast in a Xhosa village. It would prove to be a long travel day.

The first leg was a comfortable three hour Baz bus ride further east along the main highway. We passed Nelson Mandela's home, though no one asked to stop for photos. Not even me. It wasn't particularly picturesque. Most everyone then got off at a big gas station complex which doubled as a bus stop. Next, I boarded a minivan shuttle run by Coffee Shack, the popular party backpackers in Coffee Bay where I intended to go after Bulungula. Scrunched in the back left corner of the van for 45 minutes, the views of the Xhosa communities we passed were obscured by heavy fog.

The final two hour leg was in the back of a customized Toyota pick-up truck. While the road to Coffee Bay is paved, the road to Bulungula starts out as gravel, then dirt, stone, and ultimately grass. Many sections looked more akin to dry riverbeds than my concept of a road. Eventually what passed for a road ended, and we were driving on dirt and mud tracks through pastures and villages. After being bounced around like popcorn with a young French couple for a few hours, we arrived at the lodge where we were given a tour and shown our beds in traditional rondavels (round thatched huts).

I joined Magali and Sebastien for a big Castle Milk Stout and dinner. On the menu was coconut curry with chicken and rice, though the former contained more broccoli and cauliflower than juicy bits of chicken. The ambiance in the bar/dining room felt like a lounge, candles alight all around us and cool music playing in the background. Magali and Sebastien reminded me of another friendly French couple from my time in Laos, Nicholas and Caroline (who are now back in Paris). After they retired, I played a few rounds of Asshole (the card game) with the only other guests that night, four girls on holiday before graduating from the University of Cape Town. While I can't speak to whether Americans stay in hostels in the USA, I never came across Kiwis in the New Zealand hostels or Aussies in the Australian ones.

Posters around Buccaneers alert visitors to the severe shortage of clean water in the region, so the cold front which began to sweep across South Africa's coast was a good thing for the locals. Not so much for us tourists who had limited time to enjoy any given location. I felt bad for the new arrivals my second day. Their view of Chiantsa was clouded by the weather....and the hangovers of those who partied the night before.

Enough support was drummed up for a few games of wineball in the afternoon, though my participation was limited due to sore thumbs from the day before. Indian food was on the menu for dinner, and since only a small number of people signed up ($6 is too much for many young travelers), we ate by candlelight in the breakfast area which is actually part of the owner's home. After dinner, I sat and talked with Marta, a soon-to-be doctor from Holland, Jamie (UK), and a few others around the small wood-burning fire in the bar. Too tired to even manage a few games of pool, I went to bed early.

The next morning brought more rain. My plan was to stick around another two nights to catch a weekly recital put on my local children (in exchange for donations). Cabin fever was taking a firm grasp on the guests, so Mbali (one of the staff) picked up a few DVD's in town for us to watch in the afternoon. She also popped a giant bowl of popcorn, made little s'mores, and brewed some hot chocolate.

The first movie, Insanitarium, was obviously a horror flick. The plot follows the gardener guy from Desperate Housewives as he pretends to be insane, resulting in his commitment to a mental hospital where he then intends to help his sister escape (because she's all he's got). Once inside, he finds himself trapped in a place where an evil doctor is experimenting on humans. The unintended side effect of his serum is a thirst for blood, which soon turns everyone into flesh-eating zombies. The writing was so bad, and the scenes so graphic and absurdly gross, we couldn't wait for it to end.

I was more excited about the second movie, Harold and Kumar 2, Escape From Guantanamo Bay. I thought it stood up well to the original, though what happened to Neil Patrick Harris seemed a bit harsh!

After a nice self-catered breakfast on the backpacker's patio, we motored to the gate and collected our maps of the park, complete with a checklist of the animals we hoped to see.No more than a few minutes passed before we started to spot the wildlife.

Tons of Warthogs were munching on vegetation, while a Black-backed Jackal was simply chilling out. My old friend, the Ostrich, was soon seen, as were the pretty yellow Weaver birds when we stopped at the first watering hole. John was very adept at identifying each animal or bird and sharing a quick fact about them.

When you're in a park with wild Lions, Leopards, Black Rhinos, Cape Buffalo, and hundreds of African Elephants (The Big 5), it makes sense that you don't get out of your car except for a few signposted occasions. The skeletal remains of male Kudus (antelope-type animal with long twisted horns) below us near the watering hole were a good reminder of why exiting your car is also at your own risk!

As we continued onward, John navigating his way through the loops and criss-crossing paved and dirt roads of the park's northern territory, we spotted Jackal Buzzards perched atop bushes and Vervet Monkeys running around on the ground.A little after 8am, we spotted a bunch of Cape Buffalo, our first of the big five animals.

We also began to see lots of similar animals to the Kudu, including Red Hartebeests, Bushbucks, and Elands.Same same, but different.By late morning, we were getting anxious to see some elephants, although any one of us would have passed on the pachyderms for the chance to see lions or leopards.

Yvonne spotted the first elephant of the day, off on a distant hill.To the naked eye, it appeared as a grey outline against the green and dark browns of the landscape.Using the binoculars I picked up in Hermanus, you could see more detail, including the tusks.We were all excited to have seen a wild elephant, our second of the big five animals.And John assured us they start to pop up everywhere once you see one.

Sure enough, we drove a little further to another watering hole and saw tons of elephants, and what appeared to be a small parking lot of cars and safari trucks quite close to the action.Now we were REALLY excited!John maneuvered us into a good spot and turned off the engine.We sat and watched the behavior for about 15 minutes.

Males tested males, little ones chased away the warthogs in the area, babies nursed from moms, they rolled around in the mud to cool off, and had noticeable trouble lifting themselves up and out of the muddy embankments.About 3 of the 6 families were at the watering hole.The park has about 450 elephants, and with some of the older males off on their own, it meant each family must've held about 50-60 elephants.

We started to follow the ones wandering away from the watering hole, watching them cross the road just a few meters from our truck.After they get muddy, they spray themselves with dry dirt which helps to clean the parasites off of them.We stopped at another watering hole where an area protected by electrified fence allows you to get out of your vehicle and walk to a viewing point behind a wooden fence.

After the toilets were used, we returned to find a lone Cape Buffalo hanging out in the water. And then it was back to the most active watering hole where we watched a new family of elephants arrive from over a nearby hill. Watching them in the wild, marching along in a group, is fascinating. It made me glad I didn't decide to skip the park (thinking elephants were boring). I was learning to appreciate the whole experience, and all the animals, not just the carnivorous cats we hoped to see.

John recruited me for an overnight trip to Addo Elephant National Park for a few reasons. First, he offered to drop me off in Port Elizabeth afterwards, meaning I could take a break from using the Baz bus. Second, he promised a good experience by getting to the park early, when the gates opened. Third, he had worked as a guide in Kruger Park, and I could tell from the way he spoke enthusiastically about the trip, he'd be a good guide. And fourth, of least importance to a guy like me, was the fact that the three others who had signed up were girls.

I met Yvonne from Switzerland at dinner my first night, so we had already gotten to know each other a bit. She was volunteering at a local school. I met Karin and Stefanie (also Swiss-German) briefly beforehand as well. They were both in the English language school run by Island Vibe.

We left Jeffrey's Bay with braai supplies and plenty of wine. It was the most beautiful day of my time there. Low winds, bright blue skies, and lots of sunshine. The water looked as picturesque as any I'd seen in Thailand (ok, almost any view because Koh Tao had some amazing beaches). The drive to Orange Backpackers, situated 8km outside the park, was a pleasantly short two hours. Along the way, I got to know Karin and Stefanie a little better.

Once we settled into our basic 4-bed dorm for the night, opposite a paintball field, we uncorked the fine South African wines and hung out while the locals watched rugby in the bar. As the sun dropped, so too did the temperatures and we huddled around the fire burning for our braai. It took awhile, but John soon had heaps of sausage and pork chops coming off the grill. We retired around 10pm, knowing John would come knocking at 6am.

Now that I know I can get a refund minus $100 for my impromptu British Airways purchase upon arrival in South Africa, or change the dates for $50, I need to quickly decide how much time to spend in the region (can you believe I've already been here almost a month?). 

If I were at the start of my RTW trip, I would be booking a long overland tour from Vic Falls to Nairobi but with less money in the bank, I want to be more conservative. 

Here are the options I'm giving myself....please help me decide!

[poll=35]

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PS - due to internet bandwith limitations (or should I say price structures by ISP's), I am at a standstill for uploading photographs.  Please let me know if you want me to continue posting daily without pictures, or post less frequently (every 2-3 days) with a picture or two (I'll sneak them up)!

Brother Paul did me a huge favor when he agreed to host me for the night. Sister Carrie, an older, white Australian woman who has lived in South Africa for 27 years, runs the Bed & Breakfast in the community. Brother Paul had worked as a tour guide with Orin in the past, and opened his home up so I could learn a little bit about the Rastafarian way of life (beyond the fact that they smoke a lot of marijuana and love Bob Marley).

Brother Paul collected me at Island Vibe. In the car was Malcolm, our driver, and Jonathan. Paul was up front about the costs, and told me I'd need to bring my own food. The overall cost would be a little higher than had I stayed at the B&B ($20) but it was still low in my book. Along the way, we stopped at a convenience store and I picked up a few supplies.

And then we were off to the community, which was situated within a township on the ridge overlooking Knysna and the harbor. As we turned off the main highway (N2) and into the township, I suddenly felt very white. A few people smiled and waved at the others in the car, and I'm sure they were noticing me in tow as well. We pulled up to the dead end off which Paul's home was situated, and said goodbye to the others. The Rasta community has about 25 families, and 120 some people, though there are others living in the surrounding township.

Paul gave me the grand tour of his home, beginning with a walk down through his garden (the home was situated on a hill) which was filled with colorful flowers and various fruit trees. His home was a composite of the old and the new in Knysna township home design. The old half was built from local timber, with a half-wood, half-dirt floor. The new was built from concrete and included a small bathroom (cold water only), bedroom, and kitchen. The roof on the newer section was metal, while the old was tarp-covered wood. He explained his plans to further increase the size of his home so his two children and wife could live there as well. They were living separately in a colored township (note: In South Africa, races are broken apart as white, colored (mixed), and black (African)).

Once I was settled, I tried to relax. Not only was I in someone else's home, I was in the middle of a township and didn't know what to expect. Paul's nephew was visiting as well, so it took some of the pressure off to keep the conversation going. I asked plenty of questions about the Rastafaria, and learned its origins lead back past Bob to an Ethiopian emperor often referred to as the Lion of Zion. It was the image of this Ethiopian who graced Paul's walls, not Bob Marley, though his influence was undisputed.

Paul cooked lentils for dinner, as he and his nephew were vegetarian. He offered me some, which tasted better than my ham and cheese sandwich I'd brought. I spent some time reading and writing at a table in the garden, which overlooked Paul's home and offered a great view of township homes on the surrounding hills. Pitbulls seem to be the Rasta pet of choice, as there were many in the neighborhood. Thankfully, Paul's was just a 3-month pup, still in the playful teething stage. We retired by 9pm, with me taking Paul's bed while he and his nephew slept in a tent within the wooden section of the house.

I slept well, though the cold morning provided a rude awakening. There was no insulation in the home, and if it felt cold now, it would've been downright frosty in the winter. Paul took me on a morning tour of the community. We stepped inside the tabernacle where he described the activities that take place there. He proudly pointed to little marijuana plants sprouting from the ground. As most, if not all, of the Rastas grow weed, I was curious to know what the local police thought. He said they tend to show leniency, and try to ensure the plants aren't growing too big, or in too clear a view of the surrounding homes (as this could lead to a double standard for how the police handled others growing herb).

Paul was also proud to point out the positive effect the Rasta community had over their neighbors. He said crime was lower within their immediate vicinity, and they had started a daycare program which handled 30 local kids from the township.

Malcolm was nowhere to be found when it was time for me to leave, so we hopped in a share taxi. Sure enough, three ladies joined us to use up the remaining seats. A large mama hopped in the seat to my left, immediately squishing me. " It's all part of the experience,"? Paul joked, as we left the township.