I left Melbourne on Saturday December 22. Almost immediately things took a turn for the worse. My flight from Melbourne to Perth was delayed and it seemed certain I would miss my connection in Perth to Jo’burg. As much as the chance at a night in Perth thrilled me, missing my connection meant paying for a night in Sun City when I wouldn’t be there (as they have a 7-day cancellation policy), as well as missing my driver who was picking me up. In the Melbourne airport without my cell phone or laptop it was going to be a struggle to tell him on a Saturday that I wasn’t coming when I had said I was, but that I would be coming later at some unspecified time...
I didn’t want to try to get to Sun City (about 2.5 hours drive from Jo’burg) without a driver with whom I had a reservation. Unknown drivers were reportedly unscrupulous (or worse) and I didn’t want to get in a situation where I was relying on ad hoc transportation. In true Courtney fashion, I was getting my panic on.
Finally, my flight from Melbourne boarded about 4 hours later than scheduled, but Quantas held the Perth-Jo’burg leg so I actually made my flight. When I boarded the flight in Perth, my excitement equaled my previous state of panic, and I love flying business class. A travel journel I kept on the trip (just for you faithful reader) has this entry: “22-Dec. 6:05 PM Perth time: Champagne! Euphoria!”
When I arrived in Jo’burg, Benedict, my driver, had been waiting for me for hours. He was super nice and we headed off for Sun City. The only odd thing about Benedict was his need for ‘fluids’. We stopped several times to buy Powerade, which he guzzled continuously all drive, as if it had medicinal or even magical power. He blasted his gospel music at me and was profusely, over the top friendly.
Sun City was exactly like Vegas. Nothing about it seemed even remotely African. There is both a tram and a shuttle service that runs the 5 minute walks from the casinos, wave pool and the four hotels of graduating expense and luxury. The Casino was full of tourists of every nationality. As I had planned my trip 4 days ahead of time, I was in the Cabanas (aka the Sun City Projects), the family hotel. There were lots off big families. Japanese families. Greek Families. Hasidic families with 8 kids even though the mom is 28 and wearing one of those synthetic wigs. The pool was full of screaming kids. They were blasting activities (3 legged races, eggs tosses) over a pool-side intercom. My plan to sit by the pool and sip fruity drinks was clearly off.
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Christmas eve was weird. There were fireworks and a big parade with Santa. I briefly mistook the fireworks for missles and the rolling trucks of the parade for tanks, but once I realised what was going on, dissapointedly, I went to bed. On Christmas day I hung out in the gym and the spa. On the 26th at 6 AM Benedict came back to get me. He insisted we stop in Church Square in Pretoria so that he could take my picture by this statue of Paul Kruger, who he blames exclusivley for Apartheid:
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2 comments:
We have that same baboon sign on our door here in TN.
Yes Paige, but you want to keep the baboon (Marc) and the Monkey (O) IN where as this sign was to keep them out. Miss You!!!!!!!!!!!
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