It's Gtown!

Gentlemen ...

Helloooooooooo Grahamstown! Wet, cold and miserable by the way.

So, the last time you heard from me, I was in Port St Johns. A little bit has happened since then, and it's a rather long story that's filled with all sorts of juicy details such as me falling sick again, shuttle services being a little unreliable, temporary alliances forming, banks being robbed, helicopters being blown up and a lot of cuddly and adorable kittens being rescued from the smoldering wreckage of inconveniently-situated orphanages.

Suffice it to say, I wound up back in Grahamstown. Somehow. Which is pretty cool, it makes a nice change.

Oh. Wait. Poker again.

I'm also still adjusting to the lack of ADSL Internet. Very poorly. Port St Johns was great, but it didn't have much in the way of plug access. The only way for me to hook up my laptop was to sit down at the bar and ask the good old 'keep for a power point. This arrangement allowed me to do the bare bones stuff like checking my e-mail, updating the Dev.Mag news stuff and looking at LOLcats. Still, it made me a little uneasy, not least because I was permanently paranoid about some drunkard spilling beer onto my baby.

The laptop, I mean, not an actual baby.

Cor blimey, it's pretty.

Still, I shall have fond memories of Port St Johns. The hikes were glorious, the people were awesome and now I shall be tormenting friends for months to come by constantly referring to the awesomeness of dear ol' PSJ in whatever conversation happens to crop up at the time. Man, that place is just too cool.

Anyway, so now I'm in Grahamstown. And guess what? It's just one day before the National Arts Festival is due to start. Well, actually it starts TODAY, given the time I was finally able to post this. Still, the anticipation throughout town is palpable. More stuff on stuff when I start doing stuff.

Port St Johns ... and love

Status report: Port St Johns is still awesome. And the love of which I speak is, of course, the love which I hold for this dear, dear paradise of the Wild Coast. If the oft-hyped Coffee Bay is at least half as cool as this place, then it's ... well, really really cool. And stuff.

Even the cows are cool. Caught this bugger on the way to town.

Yesterday, I decided to take the liberty to walk to the CBD of Port St Johns. And by CBD, I mean the one patch of road which has more than two buildings strung together. People may joke around when it comes to Grahamstown's own diminutive size, but it has NOTHING on this baby.

Standing on one side of town. Looking at the other side. No kidding.

Walking to the main settlement takes about 45 minutes (starting from the Amapondo lodge), and the road winds through hills of township housing and lush terrain. It's a really nice walk, but a little bit of a bitch when you're carrying loads of shopping.

But the killer view makes it all worth it. I do believe I've mentioned the view. Have I? This is the sort of stuff I see from my outdoor shower:

Lovely view for scrubbing yourself to.

And yeah, I said outdoor shower. Thoroughly charming, though unfortunately it seems that the insidious Shower of Doom from Drakensberg has snuck up on me once more. So now, I've got a bit of a cold water problem. Not cool when you're outside in winter. Secondly, the shower curtain is less than brilliant: Port St Johns is insanely windy, and you basically have to pin it down with rocks to have any hopes of preserving your modesty.

Still, it's an experience.

Kitties!

Did I mention that there's nothing more adorable than two cats simultaneously trying to lick each other's faces? Man, Port St Johns is awesome.

I'd chat more, but the more time I spend diarising this place, the less time I'm actually spending enjoying it. Forgive me, dear reader, as I rush off for another day!

LAST-MINUTE UPDATE: HOLY CRAP! AN ENTIRE PLATOON OF YOUNG SCOTTISH WOMEN HAVE JUST ARRIVED! THANK YOU PORT ST JOHNS! BYE BYES!

Jewel of the Wild Coast

Truth be told, I've never been complete enamoured by the Transkei and Wild Coast. "Ohhh, but it's so gloriously African!" many cry. It sure is African, which is great if you're into this sort of stuff:

Lush!

For jaded individuals like me, however, it's basically scrub and dirt. Regardless, I was quite overwhelmed with recommendations for spots like Coffee Bay and Port St Johns, and since I was in the neighbourhood, I decided to see what all the hooplah was about.

Oh. My. Word.

I didn't realise that the Transkei had discovered "green".

Port St Johns is like an island of paradise inside one of South Africa's poorest and most rural provinces. It's a tiny coastal town in pretty much the middle of nowhere, and from the hammocks and bedrooms of the Amapondo lodge, travellers are offered one of the most amazing vistas in South Africa, easily rivalling anything that I've seen on the Garden Route.

The people here are almost as awesome as the view, and about half an hour after I touched down at my new home base I made myself comfortable with the locals in a Wednesday night tradition: a full-blown poker evening at the bar.

Moody lighting, yeah?

I still vouch for poker as a remarkable social tool. After all, it gives you an excuse to sit around a small table with about a dozen strangers and instantly be part of something cool for a few hours. I don't tend to do terribly well at the game itself: even though I spend most of my time playing with hardcore -- and sometimes world-class -- players, it seems that absolutely none of their skill ever rubs off on me. But it's still a nice game, anyway.

The poker session, of course, was only the kick-off to an absolutely fantastic evening. Shortly after getting knocked out of the game, I consoled myself with an awesome curried beef dish (no noodles!) and sat down to chat with some of the other backpackers. Amongst the ranks of rovers and vagabonds, I came across something that I thought I'd never see: not one, but TWO fellow South African travellers! That's right, folks, it turns out that I'm not the only domestic tourist in existence after all.

If these guys are anything to go by, then I can safely say that South African travellers are amongst the most interesting and awesome people in existence. If you ever come across one, be nice -- the divine powers will smile upon you for your courtesy, and reward you with some of the most interesting conversation and stories that you're ever likely to stumble across. Throw in a roaring campfire and some drum-playing, and you've got yourself a pretty epic lineup for the evening.

The bedrooms are soooo coooool!

I can't possibly describe all the totally neat stuff that I've encountered in just my first night at Port St Johns, so I'm going to spend the next few days gushing about it instead. A really, really fantastic place.

The dorm room that you see above is just an example of a really ornate and extremely Africanised abode. Murals and reed curtains clog up the joint like hairs and peas in a blocked drain, except that this particular blocked drain is something that everybody feels really, really awesome about. The beds are welcome and comfortable: though I may be biased, since I only staggered back to my room at about 2am. A far cry from my resolution to be asleep by ten.

8/10. It gets some bonus points for lookin so gosh-darn cool.

I'm going to try take some more pictures for further blog posts that will actually do this place some justice. I keep feeling like I'm falling short in that department.