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| 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.
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| 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,
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.
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| Christ Church with cute tourists |
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| Independence Monument |
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| Freedom Statue |
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| 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.
