There goes my plan

 It's the eve of our trip. Our bags are packed and we've been drinking champagne to calm our nerves. I really wanted to share some photos of the contents of my backpack but for some reason Blogger is giving me trouble. I also realised that working on Blogger via an iPad is an absolute nightmare and since that will be my main piece of technology on the trip, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to blog as often (or at all) as I would have liked to.

Perhaps it's a sign that I should rather focus on the journey or perhaps I'm just not as technologically adept as I thought I was. Trek Befok will still be alive, though, via my Instagram account so you can follow our journey there.

In the meantime, happy Sunday and goodbye for now.

I really didn't want to blog about my trip...

I didn't like the idea of spending an hour each day, writing about the events of the day, struggling to upload photos and worrying about whether I made any spelling/grammar mistakes (the curse of being a writer). It's because I'm selfish and wanted my trip to be about disconnecting from the world. But after chatting to some friends, I realised that while writing about it might be a bit painful for me, it will be great for those who have never heard of the Camino or who are interested in doing it themselves one day. And it's also for all my special peeps who are worried that I'll be kidnapped by a curly-haired Spaniard.

So, for those of you who don't know, over the next six weeks I will be walking the Camino de Santiago with my beautiful, funny, thoughtful and caring mother, Lynette. We are doing the French Route (most popular), which starts in the small town of St Jean Pied de Port in the south of France and ends 790km away in Santiago de Compostela in the north west coast of Spain.

We have been planning this trip for a year. The anticipation has been unbearable; I've had so many sleepless nights and stress-filled days that I almost wanted to say, stuff it I'd rather go for a beach holiday in Bali. Just kidding, I would never swap this trip for anything in the world! I will be blogging about it here and posting pics along the way on Instagram (see feed on the right).

We leave on Monday 11th April, so five days and counting.

Now, I leave you with some free images I found online of the Camino (because obvs I haven't taken any yet). Also, check out this amazeballs Video that gives you a very good idea of what the route is like.

Adiós, hasta luego!

The scallop is the official symbol for the Camino. There are various stories about the origin of the symbol. One of the stories claim that after St James was killed in Jerusalem, his body was shipped to Spain. During the trip, however, there was a big storm that hit the ship. After some time his body was found and covered in scallop shells.

Umm, how pretty is this?!

Just keep walking, walking, walking.

Apparently 90% of the Camino is on tar road and you walk through big cities like Pamplona and Leon. So no Cheryl Strayed-ing it in the wild.

If you've watched the movie The Way, this is the place where the large dude from Amsterdam compares his waist line to one of these metal sculptures. It's funny. 

Apparently there are fields and fields and fields of sunflowers along The Way. So much of prettiness, I can't wait!

Solvitur ambulando

Solvitur ambulando. I recently came across this Latin phrase in Paul Theroux's The Tau of Travel - a celebration of some of the best travel writing the world has ever seen. Translated, the phrase means 'it is solved by walking.'

Theroux writes, "Walking is a spiritual act; walking on one's own induces meditation," and I couldn't agree more. Walking is possibly one of the most effective and cheapest forms of therapy because it can be done anywhere in the world and all it really requires is a good pair of shoes (and perhaps some pepper spray if you're in a dodgy area). 

I love walking, hiking, jogging and basically anything that involves moving my beans. One of the best hikes I ever did was in Barberton with the Lowveld Rambling Club. We met at 8am at the Old Coach Road Guesthouse. It was August and pretty cold. The route started with a 400m climb up a koppie behind the guesthouse. I know uphills are difficult but this was on another level. We had to stop every 100m to catch our breath and remove a layer of clothing. By the time we got to the top (an hour later) we were out of breath, sweaty and almost undressed. Haha! 

 Like anything that's challenging, it's the end product that makes it worth it. And boy was it worth it. That view, sjoe! Sure it was nearing the end of winter and most of what we saw was dry and dull but it was beautiful nonetheless. We could see most of the De Kaap Valley, parts of the Makhonjwa Mountain Range, an old mine shaft and the many grassy outcrops that make up the Barberton region.  There were no buildings or cars in sight, it was just nature at its finest: raw and undiscovered.

We ate our sandwiches then made our way down the koppie and through a lovely riverine. I can't even remember the distance of that hike or what else we saw, all I remember is that view and the feeling I got once I reached the top of the koppie. It was something more than relief or satisfaction, it was spiritual.

Find out more about the hike here. 

P.s I've decided to get a tattoo with this phrase somewhere on my foot. What do you think? 

The time I kissed a hippo

Mwah!

When I was first told about Jessica, the world famous hippo, I couldn’t quite grasp what I was hearing. A hippo that had been saved just after birth, raised by humans, and is now the only one of her kind in the world that can be touched, fed, and even kissed?

Tonie and Shirley Joubert, Jessica’s ‘parents’, found her just hours after birth, washed up on the banks of the Blyde River near their house outside Hoedspruit. She had been swept downstream by the devastating floods of the year 2000. Thirteen years later and Jessica is now like a real daughter to the Joubert’s. While Tonie shows us one of the 91 documentaries about Jessica before our meeting with her, I hear a grunt from the river below the lapa. She is just as curious about us as we are about her.

Weighing in at a whopping 1040 kilograms, Jessica is a large, round bellied bundle of cuteness. Each of us gets a turn to feed her slices of raw sweet potato, stroke her on the nose, and give her Rooibos tea from 2l Coke bottles. “The tea has to be warm and sweet otherwise she won’t drink it,” says Tonie. When it is my turn to give her some tea I am astounded by her calm and sweet nature. Half her body is on the raft on the river and her eyes stare bizarrely at me as she waits, with mouth open, for her drink. I give it to her and then place a kiss on her wet and slightly hairy nose. It’s hard to believe that this is one of Africa’s deadliest animals, killing more humans than any other animal on the continent.

She may be deadly but she sure is a cutie

Once the feeding and drinking is done, she swims over to the side of the raft and everyone gets a chance to put their feet on her leathery back. “Are you afraid?” Tonie asks me while I remove my black sandals. “No, why?” I reply. “Do you mind getting a little wet?” He tells me to put my feet on her back and to wait until she holds her breath. Hippos hold their breath between 30 to 40 times a day. When she is ready, Tonie tells me to sit on her back. Sit on a hippo’s back? He assures me that it’s okay, and I do it. For about 20 seconds I sit, somewhat bewildered, on the back of a world famous hippo named Jessica. It was incredible!

Hi Jessica, it's Mignon. I'm just chilling here for a little while.

Please don't eat me?

We round up our adventure with a stop at the giant baobab (upside down restaurant) down the road from Jessica. It doesn’t matter that the restaurant is closed because we are too occupied climbing, hugging and photographing this unique and mind blowing piece of nature. We take in the beauty as the sun slowly sets and make our way home for some much needed rest. Have you met Jessica the Hippo?

Day Nine: Where it ends and where it begins

I'll never forget the first time I saw Dingane's royal capital in a book from the the Voortrekker Monument in Pretoria: over 1700 huts and over 7500 people, all under his rule on the hill at Mgungundlovu.

It is in the bumpy hills of the Emakhosini Valley and it is a piece of land this country has managed to keep sacred. And by piece I don't mean farm. It's quite a drive from where I was staying but the fluffy green hills and quick glimpse of the ocean made it all worth it.

There is a multi-media center at Mgungundlovu which at first I was hesitant to visit but later very grateful for because it gave me a new insight into the Zulu culture and the beautifully rich history of this area. My tour guide Jabu Maqwase was, similar to me, at first hesitant to let me 'in' but then later warmed up to me as she listened to my story. The multi-media center is very cool, and gives a very interesting way to learn about history as opposed to your run of the mill museum, but I'm not going to go into detail about it because it's much prettier outside.

Although Dingane's kraal was burned to the ground, archaeologists have managed to reconstruct some of the huts. The whole place is so cleverly designed with the King's hut (10m in diameter) sitting at the top of the hill overlooking all the other huts, and the entrance towards the bottom of the hill. And the views from up there! I had such a special moment, with Jabu by my side, just realising where I was and how I had managed to trek all the way from Grahamstown to this spot just to feel the moment of clarity I felt right then and there. It was beautiful.

Across from Dingane's kraal is the Hill of Execution where, apparently, Retief and his men were dragged to and killed. There is a monument built there with the names of all those who died as well as grave for Retief. Whether it's real or not I don't know, but seeing it, and realising just how far he had to travel in order to get land, helped me get some closure as to how far I have trekked to understand my land. To learn about my history. About my identity. About my country.

I can officially say, that I am a proud Afrikaner, but my travels are far from over and my search for an answer about who I am will probably never be found. And I am okay with that. Because now I am happy, and the empty space in my heart is filled with all the beauty, kindness, interest, love, care, enthusiasm, and joy I have seen over the last few days.

Almost there, Emakhosini Valley, KwaZulu-Natal. 2013.

Some of the reconstructed huts in Dingane's royal kraal, Mgungungdlovu,

Emakhosini Valley, KwaZulu-Natal. 2013.

Piet Retief's grave at the Hill of Execution, Emakhosini Valley, KwaZulu-Natal. 2013.

Monument in honour of Retief and the men killed by Dingane and his tribe,

Emakhosini Valley, KwaZulu-Natal.2013.

Day Eight: Dodgy backpacking and vintage shopping

Last night was an interesting one for this confused traveller. After a free filter coffee from the Ultra-Stop in the Midlands I took out my little backpacker boekie and searched for a backpackers in Pietermaritzburg. Called them, and although the lady who answered the phone did not sound enthusiastic at all, and although my gut told me not to, I booked a room.

Eish.

This was my first time in a backpackers and I don’t know if all backpackers are like this but I am definitely not going back. Not alone anyways. I had a private room in the house, luckily, as there were seven or eight other people there too, half of them construction workers, two from Holland, and another few who I did not speak to. There was one bathroom with a toilet and one with a shower. The shower room was so small that you can’t have both the shower door and the door to the room open, so you basically have to get in the shower, close the main door and then close the shower door. It was awkward. There were pubes on the bathroom floor and men’s underwear hanging in both the bathrooms. OH EM GEE. Guess I had to experience it at some point. Oh ja, AND my room didn't have a key so I couldn't lock it. Needless to say my pepper spray was close at hand all night.

Anyways, creepy evening aside, I spent the morning in the Voortrekker Museum in town and learned a few new things about my man Retief and his Trekkers. For example, Pietermaritzburg is named after Voortrekker leaders Piet Retief and Gerrit Maritz and it was established as a township by March 1939. Also, the Voortrekkers used herbs and other natural medicines to heal the sick among them and each house had a ‘Huis Apoteek’ (home pharmacy) which had mostly Lennon’s pharmaceutical products. I totally rely on Lennon’s. The bergamot essence apparently makes your hair grow quicker.

The best part of the day was meeting up with a friend from Durban. It was soooo good to see a familiar face again and to be pulled back out of the travel haze I have been living in. Thank you Lauren! We did some vintage clothes shopping as well and I am now the proud owner of two new lovely items. Thank you Lauren!

Tonight I am in a very shmancy BnB in the beautiful Hilton and tomorrow I am hopefully heading to uMgungundlovu- the secret conclave of the elephant. It is where King Dingane’s kraal was and also where Retief’s gravesite is. My trek is nearing its end physically but emotionally and spiritually it will live on forever. There’s some yummy cheese for you to enjoy on this lovely Wednesday evening. 

Voortrekker/Msunduzi Museum, Pietermaritzburg, KwaZulu-Natal. 2013.

Church of the Vow. This church was built in commemoration of the vow made by the Trekkers before the Battle of Bloodriver, Pietermaritzburg, KwaZulu-Natal. 2013. 

Piet Retief as he came over the Drakensburg. Statue is in the Voortrekker Complex, Pietermaritzburg, KwaZulu-Natal. 2013.

Frankie and I outside a charity shop in Pietermaritzburg. Big smile after a good day :)

Day Seven: Graffiti, dirt, and dust

How Frankie has not signed for a divorce yet I don’t know. Today we had another dirt and pothole road adventure through the mountains. One of the things I did actually plan for this trip was to see a painting on a rock face at the foot of the Kerkenberg done by Piet Retief’s daughter, Deborah. The painting, well more like graffiti, is still there today and is of Piet’s name and the date of his birthday which was when Debs painted it.

Frankie barely made it up those mountains so I have no idea how the trekkers got up with there with their ‘home on wheels’. Once you eventually get up there, though, it is one of the most spectacular feelings you will ever feel. The Kerkenberg mountain stands proudly above you, so mighty, so powerful, and in the opposite direction are other smallish mountains, part of the Drakensburg I presume, which all surrounded by the vast open veld. Beautiful doesn't describe it. It’s more than beautiful. It’s unreal. I sat there for a while and ate my packed salad bun and wondered what the Trekkers did when they camped up here.

On my way to the klip, which by the way has no signs from the road telling you where it is, you literally have to take that random dirt road that leads up the mountain and hope that you are going the right way. While searching for the klip I found a huge sea of water called  the Sterkfontein Dam and right then and there I wished I had a group of friends and some food because it makes for the perfect picnic spot. On the one side you have a view of the Drakensburg and the other is of the hills and veld areas alongside the R57. It’s so peaceful J

Anyway, I know I originally said that my trek was ending in Pietermaritzburg, which is where I am now, but it is not done just yet. I still have a few more things to see, photos to take and stories to share. So keep reading. Prease :p 

The turn-off to the BnB I stayed at in Bethlehem, Free State. 2013.

On a random dirt road waving to my only friend- myself (haha). Somewhere

in the Free State. 2013.

Sterkfontein Dam, Free State. 2013. 

Dassie on a rock at Sterkfontein Dam, Free State. 2013.

Somewhere close to Bergville, Free State. 2013.

Pretty-ness, Free State. 2013.

At the Retief Klip, foot of the Kerkenberg, Drakensburg. 2013.

South Africa's first graffiti. Not really. Retief Klip, Drakensburg. 2013.

Kerkenberg, Drakensburg. 2013.

One of the 'koppies' you can see from Retief Klip, Drakensburg. 2013