A very surreal day

Saturday 19th September

Boekenhoutfontein, North West

No-one came to pick us up.  The agreed time came and went with no movement in the bush and no sign of the Land Rover which would take us back to civilisation.

There was absolutely nothing we could do about it - no phones, no contact with the outside world.  We had to just sit there watching the ostrich and facing off the monkeys, ever hoping that someone would come to our aid - a very surreal feeling.

Eventually, and nearing the point when we seriously considered hiking through the wilderness, some rangers passed on a bakkie, heading to the bushcamp.  We managed to get them to send a message back to reception and at last, help was on its way.  (While all this was happening, a monkey managed to rob us of a loaf of bread, so breakfast ceased to be a possibility!)

Leaving here also meant leaving Botswana.  We headed through the capital Gaborone and out through Tlokweng Border, possibly the most confusing and intimidating border crossing yet. 

Giving no clue as to how to proceed, the official grew increasingly angry as we did it wrong - things like not realising that the duplicate paper form she gave us shouldn't have been filled in as duplicate, but separated and each leaf filled in individually.  Eventually, we made it past immigration with just customs and condom distribution to go.

The South African side of the border was much easier, and soon we were heading down past Madikwe to the N4, past Groot Marico and Woodridge Palms back to Rustenburg.

The visit to Rustenburg was for a very important reason - the purchase of a Springboks top.  The Rugby World Cup started yesterday and tonight saw South Africa's first game, against Japan.

We're spending the next three nights at Boekenhoutfontein, once the farm of former president Paul Kruger.  Now it is given over as a Kruger memorial and museum of the Anglo-Boer War.

Strangely, this means the place is full of colonial memorabilia, and as we sat in the bar to watch the rugby we were surrounded by military honours, British Empire weaponry and looked over by Cecil John Rhodes.  Members of staff were dressed as their former oppressors, carried guns and swords and wore Victoria Crosses.  Another very surreal situation.

In the end, South Africa were beaten on the last play of the ball by Japan of all teams.  Now, that was surreal, and the Springbok's top was soon carefully packed in the suitcase, destined to jinx the team no more.  (Although, "too many old toppies" seemed to be the verdict of the gathered company.)

Oh, and speaking of surreal, we are currently chasing a frog around our bedroom.