Monday 1 June 2009 - Bright and early, we set off to Cape Town airport, in fact there is nothing bright about it, it's the middle of the night.Arriving in good time, we check the board, our flight not registered, Bridgett and I chat. Keeping on eye on the flight board, we decide to grab a spot of breakfast. Time is pressing, still no news on our flight half an hour before it is due to take off, we head to check in our luggage.
Advising the stern looking rep of our flight time, with a flick of the waist to view her watch, we are informed 'Madam, your flight closed five minutes ago'. You're kidding me, right!?! My heart starts to palpitate, I explain that we have been here for over an hour and there was nothing on the flight board. Apparently this is Africa, and it doesn't work like that, we check in, then wait for the flight to show to board!
It must be our innocent faces, or me pleading foreign ignorance, but the kind lady delves deep and takes pity on us reopening check in. Whilst our passports are being examined, a grinning luggage attendant cheekily asks us if we slept in!
Flying into Jo'burg, meeting up Sandra and finally Kirsteen, I feel a real sense of deja vu. Once again jumping in the GVI Quantum, we hit the busy road of Johannesburg, driving several hours mistakenly the long way round, we make a stop at Thabazimbi, the only real civilisation before Marakele National Park, for essential chocolate and Hunter Drys, and the all important lemon to go with.
Arriving at Marakele, the three GVIs, myself, Bridgett and Kirsteen make ourselves at home in our tented accommodation, Heron. The camp is nestled along the beautiful river bed, where Waterbuck grazing shadowed by the rocky hills scape of Marakele. Settled in, make our way to our neighbours for braai a la Kevin, the menu consisting of half a cow each and skilpadjie. Kevin, his usual mischievous self, shows us the unprepared food, tells a convincing tale that we are about to consume tortoise. Disbelieving, Bridgett and I rake through the dustbin searching for concrete evidence, find wrapping marked skilpadjie, holy kak, he really is cooking tortoise! Only then is the cat let out of the bag, the round tortoise sized aptly named portions, are in fact liver encased in sausage skin. Hell I think I'd find the tortoise more palatable!
