Never go to Bontebok national park!

What a bummer — we drove half way back to Cape Town yesterday to go to this national park to see bontebok and other animals.  Boy were disappointed!  After driving and driving on a dirt road, with lowering, dark clouds and some spitting rain, for a long time, as we looked first left, then right, then near, then far, way off in the distance, our first sighting of wildlife.  We saw some buck.  Well, we didn’t exactly see them because they were very far away.  What were they?  Who could see that far?  They weren’t colored like bontebok, it seemed, but their horns looked similar to bontebok.  Anyway, it was a sighting and Laird saw them first, so he won and had to buy us lunch.  He took a long lens picture and we went on, looking, looking, on and on we went, the fynbos all around us, no more open areas where antelopes are likely to be found, further along the bumpy, noisy dirt road.  Right in front of us! Bontebok, beautiful bontebok, so close, right by the road, beautiful with their distinctive horns — swept back, then up, the dark hide along their sides, lovely tan along the top, a wide white streak up their face, not separated with black above their eyes like the blesbok.  Laird snapped and snapped, we were encouraged as we drove on.  There were supposed to be mountain zebra, greybok, other kinds I can’t even remember, the place was supposed to be teeming with wildlife. Ha!  There was nothing to be seen, no matter how hard we looked, left, then right, far, then near, we looked so hard our eyes were sore!  Nothing but a beautiful pink haze of ericas in the fynbos, waving in the wind.  They would have made us happy if our eyes had also seen bok.  Nothing, nothing.  I swore that the government must have sold off all the animals and just pretended.  We left spitting at the name of the park!  I said I wanted to stop at Garden Route game park on our way back, to see if we could do a game drive without spending the night, like the other game park we had stopped at near Herbertsdal.  Back we drove, a high spot, having roosterkoeks for lunch — me with boerewors with smoor (roasted tomato and peppers); Laird and Marita had sloppy joe roosterkoeks.  Roosterkoek is this yummy thick bread, but not like regular bread, cooked on the grill.  I like it best with butter and apricot jam, that’s so tasty, so lekker.  We drove some more, the sky lifting as we got nearer to Garden Route, blue showing through whiter clouds.  There was hope and hope fulfilled!  Yes, we could go in and make a reservation, the gate was opened and the first thing we saw were several springbok, just off the road!  Towards the reception area, there were impala, just there (a direction in SA).  Already, wildlife!  We will go on Tuesday for a morning game drive, then lunch and I will have a massage.  Marita refuses to have a massage.  We got home, happy and best of all,  Marita’s laundry was dry on the line — it didn’t rain until later.

Marita made bobootie for dinner and we opened a South African malbec.  Noekie came in with presents, a beautiful flannel shirt for Laird (it’s quite cold now, but will warm up, I’m sure, for our last days here) and what I couldn’t believe:  this painting I had seen at Jannie and Frieda’s house two years ago that has haunted me since.  There is something magical and mesmerizing about it to me.  A picture of their daughter when she was quite young, on the beach, and painted, years later, by that same daughter.  I couldn’t believe my eyes, my heart jumped with joy!  It wasn’t the original, of course, but Jannie had taken a photograph and Noekie had it put on canvas.  It’s still perfect to me!  Johan came in and we had a great time, eating bobootie, drinking wine and talking, listening to a CD of our friends Hein and Noxolo (the x is a click, she’s Xhosa) and her late husband who were singers long ago when they were young and on their way to being famous, except the husband died.  What beautiful voices and harmony, Noxolo’s crystal clear soprano and coloratura mezzo against the baritones of Hein and her husband.  Wait till you see what I bought from their shop — everyone will squeal like little girls when they see!

Luckily, Hein will ship that stuff and other stuff for us.  As usual I have gone overboard on buying presents.  Oh, but I still hope like hell that I can find these astounding handpainted bowls that I found at Cape Point and didn’t get — my last hope is the Out of Africa store in OR Tambo airport in Joburg.

Today is a holiday, Youth Day, to observe the Soweto uprising.  We’re going for a braai at Noekie’s house.  Matty is a great cook, so it will be delicious, and we have Marita’s melktarts to boot — a yummy day coming up!