Day 30-31 Windhoek

Old and new in Windhoek

Day 30-31  Windhoek

Haven’t seen traffic in three weeks, unless you count the one time we had goats walking one way and cattle the other across the highway back outside Divundu.  Not sure that I’m ready for the big city, Windhoek, population 250,000. 

As it turns out, Windhoek is not so much a city as a large town.  There are a few 10-story buildings, banks of course, and a central street, Independence Ave., along which there are shops and cafes.  The city is built on hills, but Rome it’s not.  Nor San Francisco. 

 

View from Hillside Guesthouse

Our pleasant bed and breakfast lies in the north of town, with a view to some fairly large, and modern residences.  Below us is a contemporary oval building housing DSTV, the Comcast of southern Africa.  They are apparently doing a brisk business. 

The young man who receives us turns out to be a passionate rugby player and fan.  The previous night’s Namibia match gives the two of us fodder for plenty of analysis.  He is ecstatic about his team’s performance, having only lost by 58-14.  National pride.  He goes on to tell me that unlike all of the major nations whose players are full-time professionals, the Welwitschias are all amateurs, doctors, lawyers, businessmen whom he sees all the time around time.  This is how rugby used to be.  And, baseball, football, soccer, and basketball, of course, before the megabucks came into play.

Johnny (or Charlie, I couldn’t tell which) recommends Joe’s Beer House for dinner, a short walk away.  This is the place mentioned in the CNN article of a couple weeks ago,

http://edition.cnn.com/2015/09/07/travel/namibia-beer/index.html

and recommended by our Namibian friends, Otto and Gina, back in De Kelders. 

From the street, Joe’s resembles any of the kraals or large lodges we have stayed in with several cone-shaped thatch structures jutting into the sky.  Bomas.  Lapas.  Inside, it is a menagerie of kudu horns, old motorcycles, a fountain in the central area, old signs, an Austin Mini on the roof, the floor of gravel, three or four bars, some inside and some outside seating, and, most remarkably for me, the place is packed with equal numbers of Black and White patrons.  The Black women mostly dressed to kill, the White women, mostly schlumps.   I haven’t really seen a nice racial mix like this anywhere in southern Africa and it feels much better than the segregated scene we usually experience.  (more on this topic at the end of the trip)

The Pork Platter jumps off the menu at us both, as Saudi Pork Deprivation Syndrome (SPDS) still lingers in our metabolism.  When the two platters arrive, not dishes, PLATTERS, fit for Shrek, they are piled high with all the many cuts of pork possible.  At least we had lunch for tomorrow…and the day after. 

We found a walking tour of the city on some website and attempted to trace its path.  Oh well.  It was Saturday morning and the central area was fully occupied with frenetic shoppers and sellers, some of them legit. 

We managed to visit most of the noteworthy sites: the 31 meteorites (pillow-sized) on public display, minus the two that have been stolen, the old German fort, the new monument to independence, that looked as though it came from Iran or Azerbaijan in that grandiose, modernistic kinda way, the Art   This was a must, as our good buddies had been married here, and we wanted to re-enact the ceremony in their honor.  The doors were locked, fortunately, so we had to simply do selfies. 

Christ Church with cute tourists

Independence Monument

Museum, which was excellent and free of charge, the lovely parks and house of Parliament, the many German houses and buildings that stand as monuments to the energy and industry of the former occupants, and, sitting quaintly at the highest point and overlooking the panorama below it in grand fashion, (and incidentally found at the corner of, get this, Fidel Castro St and Robert Mugabe Ave.), the Christus Kirche, Christ Church.

Freedom Statue

Detail from one of several large murals...loved the photographer getting his due!

In much of the Western world, of course, these two characters (Mugabe and Castro, not Christ) are regarded as tyrannical dictators.  Here, as a result of SWAPO and the independence movement against colonial powers and Cuba’s actually sending troops to fight against the South Africans, Fidel and Doctor Bob are seen as the “good guys.” 

As an aside, having, by now, talked to several guys in my age group during our trip, their memories of that war, back in the mid-70s, was the South African equivalent of our Vietnam: drafted, a harsh, awful environmental conditions, fighting against the scourge of Communism, far away from home, and, eventually, defeat with nothing to show for it, but unneeded deaths.  Interesting.   

Chilled back at the guesthouse and watched the South African rugby match against Samoa.  This was more like it, with a healthy victory.  We haven’t had much TV access, so this was a bit of a luxury.  We made a reservation at the best restaurant in town, but as the hours crept by and our motivation diminished, we chose to stay in and dove into that Styrofoam doggie box piled with pork products.  Pass the Kleenex, please; I don’t want to get too much barbecue sauce on these white sheets. 

Breakfast was on the poolside deck, lovely and cool in the morning shade. 

Gas up, drive in circles for 20 minutes through every street of central Windhoek (some of them three times), almost get t-boned by a taxi when the driver (me) looks the wrong way (left instead of right), take photos of Fidel Castro and Robert Mugabe street signs, hit the highway for Mariental, 300 km away.