13. - 19 Dec.: Swellendam to Cape Town, through Stellenbosch

After another pantagruelic breakfast we head off for a walk in town. Swellendam is a quaint little place, but it is doaked in history as it is one of the very oldest towns in South Africa. The fourth oldest to be precise, and it retains its old charm even if modern shopping malls are popping up along the main street, which would otherwise very much look like a Western American desert town.

A little shopping and a few photographs to the beautiful orthensia that dot the streets and we drive to Stellenbosch. An easy drive, mostly downhill, heading straight for the Cape.

We reach Stellenbosch at about 4:00pm but again, like for the ostrich farm, the first vineyard we visit, ... is about to close down. A guard at the door comes walking towards us as we approach the gates of the tasting rooms after parking in the huge lot between the road and the vines. He is polite and smiling. In fact I get the feeling he is a bit bored and welcomes the chance to do something and talk to someone. No chance to taste anything here today, he says, they are closing down for the day. I'll be in the region for a few days but this is Yan's last chance for a good tasting of South African nectar before she heads back home. Time for Plan B.

I have a quick look at the various guidebooks in the car and we decide our best chance for a tasting of South African wine before dinner sits at the "L'avenir" ("the future" in French) farm. You can't really see L'avenir from the road unless you spot a board by their main gate. You then have to drive a small winding path seemingly in the middle of nowhere until you reach the farm.

Why "L'Avenir"? Why a French name in the middle of a country that boasts eleven official languages, of which nine are African and two (English and Afrikaans) are anglo-saxon? It's because of the immigration of French Huguenots escaping persecution by the Catholics in the 16th and 17th century France. The found refuge in many Protestant European and North American countries, and a few hundred families ended up in the Dutch Cape Colony. Here they were put to make wine. And today more than 90% of all South African wine is produced by the descendants of the Huguenots.

It is a purely bucholic setting, a small farmhouse in a gently sloping garden and, a few hunder meters away, the vines. We take a table outside and are attended to by Katie, a new girl in the farm, it's her first day on the job in fact.  Katie is a college student who makes some extra money for her studies. We taste a half dozen whites and red in the garden, in a idyllic setting but for a worker with a very loud lawn mower who is doing his thing just in front of us. Luckily after some 15 minutes he is done and moves on, leaving us with the tranquillity of a setting sun, blus sky, green rows of ripening grapes and our wines.

Grapes at l'Avenir are slowly maturing

With most of our senses sated we head out to drive to Cape Town, where we reach our hotel by the Waterfront. Dinner is at "The Greek Fishermen". Great fish soup, intense aroma and thick creamy texture, one of the best ever, and it would have been enough for a meal. But we are tempted by their seafood platter, expecting one of those imposing round trays with piles of shell fish and crustaceans on a think bed of ice. What we get, however is not much, is all cooked and not really exciting to the taste buds. Oh well.

Patrons here are mostly, though not exclusively, white, while waiting staff is mostly black or "colored", as they call mixed race people here. The Waterfront is the pulsating heart of international Cape Town, with upmarket restaurants, smart stores and an uninterrupted flow of tourists, both domestic and international.

12. - 18 Dec.: Swellendam kayak and sherry

Great breakfast, one of those you remember, and I am picky with breakfast! Lots of freshly squeezed juices make for a great welcome.

Italian songs from a half a century ago or so gently fill the atmosphere in the background.  In particular, they keep playing "Tu vuoi fa l'americano", a song by Neopolitan Renato Carosone that was released in 1956. In fact, I will hear this song in several lounges and breakfast rooms during this trip. Not sure why, but it seems to have made a more long lasting impression here than in Italy, where it has long since forgotten and is hardly ever played in public spaces. If you've missed until now, you can listen to it here.

Trip to the dam for canoe. I asked the waitres of our hotel for directions to the Swellendam lake, but she kept referringto the "dam". That's how they call artificial lakes that are formed as a result Sunny and pleasant but a bit windy. Lots of tents around the artifical lake created by the dam.

So Yan drive off satiated by a and musically enriched by Renato Carosone and soon we find ourselves driving by what does indeed look like a fairly good size prison, with fences barbed wire and everything you would expect from a prison. Yet, somehow, a prison does not fit in this pristine and wild environment that is a celebration of freedom and wildlife.

We get lost, our navigator can't find the way, until we stop by a road block and ask a few friendly policewomen who ask a male colleague who apparently lives there and in no time we are on our (correct) way. As we get there it gets again a bit confusing as the camp is quite large and there is no indication where the canoes are, but with some persistent trial and error we get there! We are welcomed by Kelly, who tells us it's 100 rands for the canoe we can pay on our way out . She kindly gives us some sun screen when we ask and we are ready to paddle.

We choose a two seater kayak over two separate ones. In the water we start easy downwind, but soon we are at the other end of the lake, oops, of the dam, and working our way back upwind requires a fairly strenuous effort.

Some kids make merry on a floating platform moored in a crevice in the rock. We are about to ask them if we can join, but in the end we prefer to sit back and enjoy the sunshine in our face.

Dinner again in villa. Colonial feeling of luxury of old. Tonight we take and share the quail again and for contrast we gor for salmon. Both superbly prepared and served with delicate vegetables that fit the bill perfectly. Again a South African red wine helps wash it all down.

After dinner Yan and I decide to sit down in the living room, by the fire place. Sherry and port wines are available for a small charge and it's basically all you can drink, at least I did not see anyone check. Not that we wanted more than a small glass. David, a bubbly young black man who waited on us at the restaurant, comes to stoke the fire and ask if we need anything. This mellow experience we share with an elderly German couple who speak good English.  He is a retired Mercedes Benz manager, and they are driving pretty much the same road we are.

After the German couple politely excuse themselves to go to sleep, David comes again to stoke the fire. We strike a polite conversation but he gets very excited when I tell him I am a writer. Well not a household name of a writer exactly, I hasten to add, I used to write about international politics and nuclear weapons but now prefer to concentrate on travelogues. He seems overwhelmed.

"Do you mean I now know a real writer?" he says with his eyes wide open.  I am not sure what to make of it. He asks what my latest book is about and I tell him, it is on the Maldive islands. He'd like to see it and I offer to show it to him, but it's only in Italian. (Again, my mistake not to write it in English.) He says it does not matter, he's love to see it. So with immense pleasure I find myself almost blushing at someone asking to see my book. Not a friend, not a relative, but a perfect stranger who can't even read it. In the morning I'll present him with a signed copy and wait patiently for some feedback that will never come.

11. - 17 Dec.: Knysna properties and drive through the mountains to Swellendam

Get up and breakfast in Mike's terrace. It has been too short, these four days in Knysna flew by so fast. The view in front of us here is spectacular, so is the house behind us. We don't want to leave but there is so much more to experience during the rest of our time in South Africa.

We talk about real estate, it would be fun to invest and spend some time here every year. Just for fun, we look at a house on sale. A newly renovated townhouse with two bedrooms, a good size living room and a huge kitcken with a dining area. Asking price is 1.2 mill rand, about 70k euro, negotiable. OK the Rand is weak this year but this won't buy you more than a parking spot in Rome.

We take some final pictures with Mike and his classy and nostalgic Merc SL convertible. He chose to have his name on the number plate to make it even more persona. Time to go.

Today we are heading west, toward Swellendam. Mike come with us part of the way, until Sedgefield, a small town on the coast about half-way between Knysna and George. We are going to have lunch with a friend of his who is building shopping malls all over Africa and wants to talk to Yan about Chinese business. As everywhere else in the world, the Chinese are pouring into South Africa, both to buy (raw materials mainly) and to sell (pretty much everything). They also want to invest the immense capital that they have accumulated over the last decades of break-neck export growth.

Easy drive to Swellendam. We don't take the shortest route toward Cape Town, but instead opt for climing up the mountain and enjoy the incontaminated landscapes of the interior. Several hours of infinite emptiness. Reminds me of Nevada, or Arizona.

We miss our chance for an ostrich ride by ten minutes at Oudtshoorn as they close at 4 in afternoon. This region is known for its ostrich and yan wanted to ride one. Oh well. I would not have been able to anyway as I just exceed the maximum allowed weight  (I won't say what that is).

By the evening we reach Schoone Oordt Countryhouse, a well appointed boutique hotel in an old  colonial house. Old style but classy property ran by a couple from Cape Town that bought a dilapidated manor about ten years ago and made it into their lifetime project. Big room, bed with posts and a fireplace which we actually enjoy in the evening before going to bed. Or while in bed for that matter. It is a bit of time travelling.

Dinner in the villa. Very few choices in their menu which does not change for the week, but they are all excellent. Quail for me and salmon for Yan. They politely suggest that, tomorrow, we may want to try another restaurant in town. They are not really a restaurant, not yet anyway, as they mostly cater to hotel guests. By the end of the dinner Yan and I agree we don't really need another restaurant tomorrow, we will come back here. A bottle of mellow and fruity Pinotage 2013 by African Java provides the necessary lubrication for all of the above.

And this is the official celebration of my birthday, for which we get complimentary dessert :)

10. - 16 Dec.: Knysna golf and dining

Tour of downtown Knysna. It's a wonderful late Spring day and it is obvious that Summer is knocking at the door. Lots of people strolling about, eating in the numerious terraces, drinking and shopping. Inevitable in an upmarket area like this, most shoppers and diners are white while many of the workers are black.

As I walk aimlessly around I meet a painter of dogs. A man in his mid-sixties perhaps, kind of short (even by my own 1.69 cm standards) and sporting a long graying beard almost down to his chest. His thick mustache do not completely hide a sweet greagarious smile. A pair of rectangular glasses with a thin frame combine very appropriately with a black beret to produce a perfect blend between a carefree XIX century bohémienne and a modern alternative street artist.

Yes, Teddy is a painter of dogs. He has a dog with him, a small hairy dog called Jock. I know the dog's name because it carries a bright golden badge around its neck with the owner's phone number, in case it should get lost. Teddy paints Jock a lot, it is his main subject, but he also paints other dogs. Occasionally, he paints something else, mostly when he gets motivated by a commission for a specific subject, he told me. But dogs is what he likes to paint.

Just a few steps from his position a couple of sturdy guys are playing their guitars while singing country music. It is a rich mix of Southern country, with some occasional blue-grass overtones, and other local street music. They both wear black T-shirts, a thin necklace, dark sun glasses and a hat that reminds me of Indiana Jones.

Our walk continues to the local supermarket, where Yan and I fall in love with the most colorful baskets of tropical fruits. You can buy it as it comes from the tree, or for a small premium they will serve it nice and peeled in small trays. Prices are incredibly low, at least for our strong Euro, but Yan tells me these delicacies would be far more expensive even in Beijing.

Afternoon back to golf practice. Trying to hit the ball into a more or less straight trajectory toward some flags planted at varying distances into a huge field. I aim at the 50 and 75 meters flags, with mixed results, but who cares? Mike, Lifang and I have a fun and relaxing time while the sun gently sets behind us.

Dinner with local friends at Cafe Mario by the Waterfront. There are no black or colored patrons. My local friends say it's normal because blacks like different food and each of the peoples of South Africa keep to the company of their own kind. Just like Germans and Italians. Well, maybe. It is true, when I live abroad I tend to have more Italian friends than others. But here other considerations come into play: safety, a backlog of racial distrust, if not hatred, that has not yet been completely overcome.

I ask them a question that I will ask a number of times when talking with white South Africans old enough to remember apartheid. The question is: All whites now say they are for racial equality, but what did you think then? (Actually not all whites would agree, there are yet some factions of overtly racist white South Africans, but they are marginal.)

The answer I get today is that they did not know much of what was going on during apartheid because there was no tv in South Africa until the 1980s and a strong censorship prevented news from spreading even within the country and even among rich whites. It is true that there was no TV in South Africa until very late, it started broadcasting only in 1976 to be precise, and then only one channel was available and it was strictly controlled by the government.

And yet I find it hard to believe they did not know, there was so much noise around the world, they certainly knew of Archbishop Tutu winning the Nobel peace prize in 1984 for his anti-apartheid activities. I come out of this conversation with a belief that while most whites were, and are, honestly open and not racist, they acquiesced with apartheid at least, and feared change.

In a way this reminds me of Italy and Fascism: most of my compatriots supported it as long as it was successful and made them feel special, but after 1945 it was virtually impossible to find anyone who would admit to having been a Fascist. And of course many claimed a role in the Resistance, just like many South Africans now say they operated to end apartheid for what they could and were never racist to begin with.

Be that as it may, the restaurant serves very good, real Italian, ossobuco, the best I can remember having outside my beloved peninsula! Italy is well known here for the food, of course, but not for much else. My friends are an exception: they are highly sophisticated lovers of the arts and know Rome as well as any bona fide civis romanus.

When I ask, however, I am surprised no one remembers another Italian who made South Africa known around the world in the 1970s: Marcello Fiasconaro who almost accidentally broke the world record for the 800 meters wearing the blue Italian shirt with a tricolor in the middle. The world record was gone three years later but the Italian record still stands forty years later and counting...

Back home, just after midnight, Mike pops a bottle of bubbles. It is now 17 December and it is officially the day of my 54th birthday.

9. - 15 Dec.: Knysna golf and spa

Breakfast at home on our panoramic terrace. It is inspiring to overlook the estuary of the Kynsna river from up here, an unobstructed view that stretches to a distance where the naked eye can barely make out the low lying buildings that make the Eastern side of the town.

Mike then takes us for a town tour which is made even more enjoyable by the fact that we are driving is his vintage convertible Merc. Knysna is indeed an idyllic paradise and I have little difficulty understanding why many like to spend time here, especially the warmer months between November and April.

Another round of golf practice (yes I am getting addicted, I know because I get the first blisters on my hands and don't mind) and it's time for some shopping downtown. Great opportunities for outdoor clothing and equipment here. I am like a child in a candy store as all this khaki colored multipocketed garments are my favs. Besides being practical, they project my ego into endless Indiana Jones fantasies and make me feel less a tourist and more an explorer. Well, at least an eccentric travel writer.

In the afternoon massage Yan and I book a massage and steam room at the Conrad. We are given a twin room and get our muscles pain relieved by a couple of young South African ladies, one white and one black, both excellent masseuses.

Dinner (which was included in our massage package) is in the Conrad's terrace. The sun is setting behind a row of houses but it's still warm enough to keep our bleach-white robes on for the meal. As some point Yan feels a draft: because of an open door nearby the warm air from inside the building gets sucked out and blows over our table. Funny, usually a draft is only a problem if one is inside: and the ladies then ask to close the windows or doors. Superb cheese cake to close off the night.

8. - 14 Dec.: Knysna golf and tour

Today we take it easy after the intense pace of the last few days. Breakfast at the Pezula golf club, sitting in a wide terrace under a blue sky. Full English breakfast with the most appropriate African enhancement of tropical fruits.

We then go and try some golf. It is my first time ever and I kind of like it. I can see how it can become addictive. Just try some putts for now. I am quite excited so I run to gather my balls after shooting my first set too far from the flag, only to be gently reprimanded by Mike who intructs me that one never runs on the golf course lest the impacts of fast feet landing on the delicate grass should dig holes that would distort the game. OK lesson learned.

My first ever golf ball

We then drive around a bit and explore the Pezula property. About 400 hundred lots, some two thirds of which have beed developed into beautiful villas of various sizes. Eighteen golf holes naturally, plus all the infrastructure that makes this a world-class course. It seems that most owners, who are by right members of the Golf Club, don't even play golf at all, but enjoy the setting, the scenary and the company.

Dinner is at a family run restaurant downtown, Pembreys. Well appointed yet informal and warmly welcoming atmosphere, with excellent fish from the region, and of course Cape wines. The owners are Vivian and Peter Vadas, who besides their lives share a passion for Mediterranean and especially Italian cuisine. Their son Peter John has moved on but not before he absorbed his parents' dedication to high quality food, and recently has become the chef of a top notch restaurant near Cape Town. I opt for a pair of excellent Cape soles, nicely grilled and served with potato wedges.

Much to my own chagrin I decide not to drink nearly so much as I would like. Alcohol tests are apparently taken very seriously here and spending a night in a local prison (the usual penalty for speeding, it seems) is not my idea of an alternative, off-the-beaten-path journey through South Africa.

Another problem with driving home is that the speed limit changes every few hundred meters and, while I strive not to exceed it, Mike tells me not to go too much slower either, lest I become suspicious as the police think I can't cope with the allowed speed. It's a little stressful to keep within the narrow speed range that will keep the police away for either reason - I did drink a bit after all. But eventually we make it home in one piece and can cap off the night with a little grappa.

7. - 13 Dec.: Schotia Game reserve to Knysna, via Elephant Back Ride Safari

Get up at the crack of dawn (well almost, it must have been 6:30am) for a quick (wood fire heated) shower in the open, an instant coffee and an early morning walking safari in the hills around our tents. Justin is there as promised and so is the Washington couple we met yesterday.

We start slowly and enjoy the cool early morning air but no animals in sight. The Washington lady jogs around and gets way ahead of the rest of us but suddenly grinds to a halt when in sight of the two huge mammals. Rhinos! Two big white rhinos, buth sadly dehorned by poachers in May 2013.

We can get very close. Maybe a bit too close when Justin tells me to freeze as I drop to the ground to photograph from down up and one rhino puts its big lips on the ground within two meters from the tip of my lens. Great pictures though!

After breakfast we drive to Lenmore, a restaurant not far and our meeting point with Walter, from elephant back ride safari. Yan insisted on doing this and while I was initially a bit reluctant as we have a lot of driving today and lots to see on the way, she was right as this turned out to be a unique experience.

From Lenmore it is a long drive, over one hour on a highway then 45 minutes of a dirt road with potholes the size of bomb craters. We are pretty shattered when we get to the reserve but thrilled with anticipation.

Walter tells us he used to work here but then changed jobs to driver because too remote wants to be with family. Proudly show his name and number still on gate. He now takes cigarettes and other stuff to the staff at the camp who don't see civilization for weeks on end.

There are three elephants, and they always go together even if there are no clients. We rent two elephants and the third just follows... We start a bit late: while the elephants are tamed, they are free to roam around and to gather them for the tourist ride is not always a five minute affair.

It's a lot of fun to ride them, and it is as natural as it gets: no saddles or seats, just our bums on their bare back. Walter smiles when we say we'd like to ride longer than the standard half an hour: "You'll bruise your behind raw!" After 45 minutes we realize he was right, but it was worth it!

At the end of our ride we get a tasty lunch by a small lake, and then all start our way back over the bomb craters to Lenmore and our car.

 Time to drive to Knysna, which we reach after an easy five hour drive on the N2, the long coastal road that runs along South Africa's maritime regions.

Dinner is at the Golf club with Mike, a German friend of mine who used to be my neighbor in Belgium. Rather an ex German I should say: he moved to Italy from his native country when he was very young, married Carla, a bright and beautiful Italian lady he met at work, and lived and worked around the world ever since. Ten years ago he retired and they decided to abolish Fall and Winter from their vocabulary: May to October in Italy, and November to April in South Africa, where of course the seasons are inverted. Carla sadly passed away a few years ago but Mike keeps his seasonal hybernation routine.

There is a birthday party going on and the main dining room is taken. Crowds of all-white friends singing South Africa's national anthem. I am especially struck by their singing the rifst lines in Xhosa: Nkosi sikelele Afrika... A song full of meaning, especially when sung by whites. The new South Africa.

No fear: we get table in the main hall, between the kitchen and the bar. Delicions seafood, nice full bodied Chardonnay from the Cape (beer for Mike) and a very forgiving check. The strong Euro buys a pretty good time in South Africa this year.

6. - 12 Dec.: Game drives and walks at Schotia Game Reserve

This morning our driver is Justin, son of owner of Schotia who is going to take over at some point.  He is very passionate about the reserve and his job and shows both affection and authority while is leading our tour. A close up encounter with a lone male lion soon after breakfast is just what we need to wake up.

Readying a hot bath

After lunch we rest a bit and then go for a walking safari around our tented camp. We run into a family of giraffe who let us come pretty close.It is warm and sunny, an ideal afternoon for a leisurly walk in the wild. I take the opportunity of our stop at the camp to add more wood to the water heating furnace.

Later on we keep on driving and share car with a couple from Washington state. He is cool and easy she is a bit paranoid about the animals and diseases. I wonder why she came to Africa in the first place.

In the evening, after another filling and tasty meat buffet by the fire, we welcome the night by driving out again in search for the lion, whom this time we meet as he is lying in the open grass.

But the most frightening encounter of the day is yet to come: it's about 11pm and we are making our way home when our good old friend Old Boss who is not yet ready for a good night sleep. He is in musth and when Justin tries to drive on the way to our tents he seems to have alrady lost his sense of humor.

Old Boss is not ready for sleep

The day ends with a candle-lit hot bath in our large tatch-covered tub house. I add more wood to the furnace and the water is nice and hot, a pleasant contrast to the moonlit chilly evening outside.

5. - 11 Dec.: Lalibela Lodge to Schotia Safari Game Reserve

Funny how these two private game reserves have names coming from different parts of the world, very far from South Africa.

In the morning another early game drive and then an easy move a few km to the west to Schotia Safari Game Reserve . This is a very different type of reserve: not luxury and in fact in part a tented camp. Our tent is quite big and it is raised from the floor by a system of stilts.

Quite a romantic bathroom too: water is heated by wood, and one of the first things I must learn is how to add wood to the furnace just outside the bathroom, next to the shower.

Male elephant

Our ranger for the afternoon drive is Leandi, a petite and seemingly fragile blond girl in her late twenties. (OK Leandi if you are reading this by any chace please don't be upset if I got it wrong, I am always wrong with ladies' age.) Yan asks about the meaning of her name and the answer is quite unique: her mother had six sisters and L.E.A.N.D.I. are the initials of their names. I forgot the sisters' names, but the ethimology stuck in my mind.

Bull chasing jeep

Leandi drives better than I have seen any man drive, especially when shifting our big 12 seater 4x4 into reverse and backing off in the mud from a charging elephant bull in chase. She also knows quite a bit and gives us comprehensive explanations about the fauna and the flora we see.

Dinner buffet by the fire, just next to the croc and hippo pond. Then a night drive during which, with the help of a big halogen light, we see a lone male lion resting in a bush. Can't really see much of him but enough to get some adrenaline pumping.The best sight though is a majestic male kudu who passes nonchalantly by as we drive home.

Male kudu, my fav antilope

4. - 10 Dec.: Game drives and night safari

In the cold afternoon drizzle we again brave the elements but are rewarded when we meet the resident cheetahs with a recent kill. The mother and 4 cubs rest, stomachs full, next to the carcass of a springbok. They sit atop a hill, with clear visibility in all directions, and are probably waiting to finish off what flesh is left on the bones of the antilope before the hyenas home in at night.

Cheetah meal leftover

A number of other sightings, including a large family of elephants who block the road and force us to wait a good half an hour, make the discomfort worthwhile after all. It's dusk and we are making our way back to the lodge, we meet a matriarch elephant leading her herd through the thick forest and into a green expanse. They are obviously used to cars and can't be bothered by our presence.

After dinner we go for a night safari, it is my first ever. Yuan is driving with one hand and brandishing a powerful halogen lamp with the other. He only points it at nocturnal animals, who can quickly adjust to it, and avoids shining it into the face of diurnal animals who could easily be blinded and scared away.

We go by our cheetas and they are still there, no signs of hyenas. Yuan explains that normally they would have gone to hide by now but evidently can't afford to leave all that meat behind. 

After a little while we run into  our elephants again, and the matriarchal female moves very close to us to show who is in charge. Yuan is slightly worried, shifts into reverse and backs off. I am a bit disappointed as I would have liked to see the animal closer, even more so when he says he would have let her come and touch the car had he been alone. Still, a magical moment to share with these gentlr beasts under a soft moonlight.

3. - 9 Dec.: Lalibela game drives and walks

Yuan and vehicle

Game drives and walks all day. The weather is not our best friend, it is drizzling and rather chilly, unexpected. I have not taken much warm clothing along, but make good use of a couple of sweaters. Yuan provides us with warm blankets that help moderate the wind chill in our oper vehicles. My major problem is keeping my cameras dry, and Yan her binoculars.

In the afternoon we do a walking safari with Jill, a lady who is the head ranger here. Don't meet much in terms of big animals, or even small animals for that matter. A bit disappointed as I did not come here to see small flowers and footprints. Our guide does not allow us to get closer to  hippos than about 250 meters with a pond between us. Ok safety first but this seems a bit excessive to me.

End of the day with another spectacular game drive with Yuan. This time it is cheetahs who keep us company.

To cap an exhilarating drive, a lone white rhino happens to be on our way but keeps grazing carelessly as we drive by.

Great meals as usual in the Lalibela lodge, and enjoyable evening by the fireplace backing up pictures to my hard drives and talking to Yuan about his country and his life. All he wants is a peaceful South Africa, he is too young to even remember apartheid anyway. He says his parents tought differently, but they belong to a different era, that seems almost inconceivable now. Of course.

2. - 8 Dec.: Port Elizabeth to Lalibela and first game drive

Get up at 8:30 and leisurly breakfast in the terrace of our Bed and Breakfast "Admiralty house". It's run by a friendly couple and we share the buffet with patrons of all races and colors, something that won't be happening too often over the next several weeks, where I will witness almost exclusively white tourists monopolize the tables of my hotels.

After breakfast I go sim card hunting again. Can't find any Vodacom store but the lady at the reception recommends to get a MTN, which is supposedly better anyway. They have a store at a little shopping mall nearby, and they are open on Sunday, at least in the morning. If I hurry after the long breakfast I can make it. And I do: before noon I become the proud owner of a South African phone number. The mall is a small affair, perhaps a couple of dozen smallish stores dominated by the ubiquitous Pick n Pay supermarket.

Armed with a data plan I can now install my sim card on my Samsung and confidently place it in the suction cradle I brought with me from Europe. A charge cable ensure a sufficient flow of energy and we are off for an easy drive.

Despite a couple of unnecessary detours owed to my talking too much while I am driving (when I drive I am the living proof of the theory that men can do only one thing at a time) which made me miss a turn or two, we are accurately steered by Google maps to the Lalibela lodge. We arrive at Lalibela in the early afternoon and settle in our beautiful thatched house. A few minutes to drop our stuff and grab a bite to eat and get ready for the first game drive of this trip. It's been a few years since my last one, in Tanzania, in 2005.

The name Lalibela surprises me, it turns out the owners Rick and Sue van Zyl visited the famous town in Ethiopia a while back and loved the name and the meaning behind it: "for whom the bees have foretold greatness". An Ethiopian legend has it that if a swarm of bees buzz around a baby's head, the child is destined to become king. I am not sure I would try on my baby but Sue loved it and the name Lalibela stuck in her mind, only to resurface when it came to name their newly opened business in 2002. It was the coronation of a longstanding plan to transform their earlier farm "Hillside" into a game reserve.

Our ranger is Juan, a 22 year-old enthusiastic nature lover who loves being in the bush and driving his 4x4 open safari "vehicle" as he calls it. He'd be on the road all the time. Rain shine day night he'd be looking for wild life if he did not have to take his guests back for their meals. His favorite words, as he passionately and methodically explains everything from geology to biology, are "basically" and "specifically". It's chilly and it rains intermittently but we are rewarded with a bounty of lions, cheetas and countless antilopes.

This evening is Yan's birthday and the manager has prepared a romantic candle-lit setup in the garden, with a small buffet all for the two of us and a slurpy cake with candles and birthday song at the end. The folk dance at the end is also quite well done and a pleasant, if a bit predictable, end of this first day in the bush. We enjoy the end of the evening with drinks by the fire in the company of a few other guests.

1. - 7 December 2013: Arrival in South Africa and tour of Port Elizabeth

Upon arrival in South Africa customs must be cleared at the first port of entry, in my case in Johannesburg. It's a pain to have to collect my bags and go through customs (no one pays any attention anyway) only to have to check them in again.

As I walk to my check-in counter I notice that everyone wraps their luggage in plastic wrap. For 60 r (4 euro) at least a dozen station will wrap your bags. Maybe it helps, and I d ecide to do it, as Johannesburg has a reputation for theft from transiting bags.

Arrive in Post Elizabeth. I live in the XXI century and decide to do first things first: get online with my smartphone. I try to buy a Vodacom sim card with a data plan but meet no success. I need a mini sim for my Samsung but those in stock at the Vodacom airport shop don't work. The salesman can't complete the required installation online. He also has "normal" (old) regular size sim cards, that can be cut to fir mini sim phones. Try and cut a big one but no success: no connection. They only have micro sim but they are no good for my samsung. Give up.

I proceed to pick up my rental car but not before I am persuaded to upgrade to a larger model. We have lots of bags...

First tour of the town. The former president, larger than life Nelson Mandela, the liberator of the country, died the day before yesterday and the country is in mourning. It is moving to see the lowering of the huge flag that is flying at half mast on the hill overlooking the town. Only a few foreign tourists look on while a military detachment performs the procedure as the commanding officer yells out a succession of orders.

I have reviews a movie about a life defining episode of Mandela's life here on this blog.

Nelson Mandela

Itinerary of trip to South Africa - December 2013 / January 2014

Itinerary - South Africa December 2013 – January 2014 (click on a date or a daily itinerary to link to related post)
Day	Dec.	Daily itinerary	Night	Km
1	7	Arrival in South Africa and tour of Port Elizabeth	P.E.	25
2	8	Port Elizabeth to Lalibela and first game drive	Lalibela	90
3	9	Lalibela game drives and walks	Lalibela	50
4	10	Game drives and night safari	Lalibela	50
5	11	Lalibela Lodge to Schotia Safari Game Reserve	Schotia	60
6	12	Game drives and walks at Schotia Game Reserve	Schotia	40
7	13	Schotia to Knysna, via Elephant Back Ride Safari	Knysna	275
8	14	Knysna golf and tour	Knysna	10
9	15	Knysna golf and spa	Knysna	10
10	16	Knysna golf and dining	Knysna	10
11	17	Knysna properties and drive through the mountains to Swellendam	Swellendam	200
12	18	Swellendam kayak and sherry	Swellendam	50
13	19	Swellendam to Cape Town, through Stellenbosch	Cape Town	160
14	20	Cape Town tour and music	Cape Town	60
15	21	Cape Town to Franschhoek	Franschhoek	75
16	22	Franschhoek	Franschhoek	0
17	23	Wine tasting in Stellenbosch and Paarl	Franschhoek	50
18	24	Paarl wine tasting for Christmas eve	Franschhoek	60
19	25	From wineland to Johannesburg	Johannesburg	75
20	26	City tour of Johannesburg	Johannesburg	80
21	27	Soweto and drive to Mabhoko Ndebele village	Mabhoko	280
22	28	Models and billiard at Mabhoko Ndebele village	Mabhoko	0
23	29	Mbahoko Ndebele village to Kruger National Park	Kruger	450
24	30	Alarms and mating lions at the Kruger National Park	Kruger	60
25	31	Kruger through Swaziland to S. Lucia	S. Lucia	650
	Jan.
26	1	New Year's day at Saint Lucia	S. Lucia	0
27	2	Drive to Durban and flight to Port Elizabeth	P.E.	250
28	3	Port Elizabeth - Seaview - Jeffrey bay	Jeffrey Bay	80
29	4	Knysna township	Mossel Bay	325
30	5	Bartolomeu Dias, Indian food and vintage music at Mossel Bay	Mossel Bay	40
31	6	Mossel Bay to Hermanus	Hermanus	320
32	7	Hermanus to Cape Town via Boulders Park and Good Hope	Cape Town	175
33	8	Cape Town wine tasting and Langa, Khayelitsha and Gugulethu townships	Cape Town	150
34	9	Cape Town slaves, cannons and jazz	Cape Town	40
35	10	Ending with a big bang, see you soon again South Africa	airplane	25
		TOTAL	KM	4275

Recensione: 700 ore in India - sulla scomoda sella di una Royal Enfield 500 (2013), di Giuseppe Santucci, *****

Sinossi

Questo libro parla di un viaggio. In India. Da solo. In motocicletta. Una Royal Enfield 500 Bullet Machismo. Monocilindrica. Tremila chilometri, divisi tra la parte sud ovest della catena dell’Himalaya (la zona in cui scorrono le sorgenti del Gange) e i deserti del Rajasthan. Conditi da duecentocinquantamila colpi di clacson (circa). L'autore Giuseppe Santucci è professore associato all' Università degli studi di Roma “La Sapienza” e tiene corsi di Ingegneria Informatica. Questo è il suo secondo libro che non ha nulla a vedere con il suo lavoro. Né con il suo primo libro.

Recensione

Breve ma emozionante libro che racconta un viaggio in moto. L'autore prende per mano il lettore, se lo carica sulla motocicletta e lo porta in giro per l'India per tre settimane. La narrativa è coinvolgente al punto che l'autore, contrariamente a quanto scrive ripetutamente, non viaggia più da solo ma fa sentire il lettore come se fosse seduto sulla sella, dietro di lui, a cavalcare le buche delle strade indiane.

Questo libro non è, e non pretende di essere, un saggio analitico sul paese e neanche una guida su come visitarlo in moto. Riesce però a trasmettere un'esperienza, con dovizia di particolari, che ti far venir voglia di partire. Ho visitato personalmente, in vari viaggi intrapresi negli anni passati, tutti i luoghi percorsi da Santucci con la sua Enfield e mi ci sono ritrovato. Ad ogni curva ho rivissuto la mia esperienza (in auto, iin treno, a piedi) e posso garantire l'autenticità delle descrizioni.

Il libro centra dunque l'obiettivo che si è prefissato: raccontare un viaggio. Un viaggio difficile, che avrebbe potuto essere diverso e che sarebbe sicuramente diverso per chi decidesse di intraprenderlo. Ma questa è la differenza tra un saggio analitico ed un racconto. Ho letto questo volume in poche ore, è difficile metterlo giù, vien quasi paura che la moto non riparta! Consigliatissimo a chi conosce l'India ma anche a chi, non potendoci andare di persona, ha voglia di assaggiarla restando seduto a casa.