Title:
A Coffee, A Shooter... A Coffee, Another Shooter.
The wake-up call was brutal, but the sounds of the bush were still magical. We walked back up the long path to the camp office which, all things considered—without the rain, thunder, and darkness—was actually quite nice. We had breakfast by the lake where the tilapias were jumping, and then we left for a bush walk. But oh! It was so disappointing. He talked about insects for an hour, all while carrying his big rifle. I watched them eat "bambi droppings
" what the fuck, I swear! and the two other Canadians did it along with the Colombian girl. No, no, no... Anyway, we were on the lookout for wild beasts, but nothing came to scare us. Then, we hit the road toward Johannesburg, passing through magical scenery.
South Africa is truly beautiful! The roads are better than in Quebec, the mountains are hallucinating, the heights impressive. Honestly, the drive back is like being in a canyon; we stopped to take breathtaking photos and bring back souvenirs, but I was very limited by the space in my backpack...
On my way back, I tried to book a room again at the Marriott Protea, and it was a nightmare. I will never book with Expedia again. I found myself sitting at the counter for 4 hours waiting for them to give me a room. It’s a shame, I really loved that hotel. While I was explaining my misfortunes to Andy, he wouldn't stop insisting I go check out some crypto machines. I’d had enough of all that; he was starting to get on my nerves. Anyway, I went to the hotel bar and made some friends, then ate some fries and went to bed exhausted.
The next day, I made the most of it, relaxing by the pool, and there again, Andy was nagging me to go see the crypto machines. I didn't give a damn, and he didn't seem to want to come see me. I went to see downtown Johannesburg again, but since it's dangerous, it’s not cool. I was looking for warm clothes because it was always cold, but it was a big shopping mall for the rich. I put money on my eSIM card and got ripped off somewhere in Africa—by the time I got back, I had $400 in payments to make, but I just wasn't in the right headspace for that.
Anyway, when I returned to the hotel, I had no idea what I was doing. The manager was still looking for me to pay for the room again because of Expedia; it was hell. So when I saw that, I just left, packed my bags for the airport, and told Andy I was going to Lesotho to give some money to Harrison, his son, and go horseback riding in the mountains.
I found a plane ticket and left. That vacation was great leaving whenever I felt like it. Oh, the people are so kind, and the country is mountainous and desert-like. I got a SIM card, a minivan, and went to a hotel. I had asked the woman at the tourist desk for a recommendation
-oh my god, a huge hotel with very kitsch decor. Anyway, maybe I was finally going to meet Andy and drink that famous bottle of champagne I’d been carrying since I arrived, which the flight attendant had given me when I got off the plane for my big meeting with my lover.
When I got to my room, Andy called me. This time I could hear his voice clearly, and he told me all sorts of things and sang me another beautiful song, saying he would do everything possible to come and that I should stay at least two days in Lesotho so he could try to break free. I went to eat and had a soup.
The next day, I was sick as a dog. It was cold everywhere, and I never should have eaten that soup. Lesson learned. I stayed in my room as long as possible, alone with my shivers in that freezing cold, before finding the strength to change hotels.
What a situation: the hotel I wanted to go to didn't want to take white tourists. Bang, right in the face. Even the driver was stunned because security told him they were flat-out banning me from entering. So the taxi driver took me to a very typical Lesotho hotel where I had my own "Lesotho-style" round room with a thatched roof too cute and a huge bed. It was perfect.
Then I contacted Andy to tell him to reach out to Harrison so we could meet and I could give him some pocket money to survive until his father got out of Somalia. I went to the mall to find a warm hoodie, but nothing doing; I ate some Kentucky Fried Chicken and took a taxi to explore the surroundings. It was neat—very poor, but the people were very kind and friendly.
Back at the hotel, still no news from Andy. My "cat was dead" with that one, anyway. My room was freezing, so I asked for blankets and ate at the hotel bar. In South Africa and Lesotho, I have never seen such big bums or such big cakes! I ate super well—a club sandwich, a glass of wine—and I had some of those famous cakes and WhatsApped my mom and sister at the same time. I thought about heading back to Montreal, but finally, I hesitated and decided to continue to Cape Town. Oh! I never regretted it.
As I was packing my bags to leave Lesotho, I carefully tucked that famous bottle of champagne into my bag. It had traveled all this way with me through the freezing mountains, intact. I didn’t open it there. I finally brought it all the way back to Quebec. It crossed borders and oceans. Who knows, maybe I’ll drink it one day with that famous Andy?
Early the next morning, I had to catch a flight to Johannesburg and then to Cape Town. It went great. In Johannesburg, there are people and agencies that help you find a ticket; they are super kind and actually walk you right to the counter. And guess what? I managed to snag a Lesotho hoodie at the airport at 6:00 AM that would keep me warm for the rest of the trip... but who would have thought I'd be freezing in South Africa! Too bad for Andy; I wasn't going to stay in Lesotho indefinitely. I would have done the mountain excursion with him because I’m way too afraid of heights. My only regret was that he hadn't given me the name of the private college so I could bring the money to his son, claiming he wanted to be there, etc. Just more of the bullshit he always had to say... It seemed pretty obvious he wasn't coming and that I wouldn't see him at all.
Anyway, we didn't care; I was leaving for Cape Town to see the penguins and that magnificent part of the country. That extraordinary city—I would move there tomorrow morning. A beautiful country and very safe once you get out of Johannesburg. Although, if you find yourself, as I did under the hotel manager's recommendations, in a rather sketchy part of Cape Town... it was the drug district. I didn't understand why I was sent there. Luckily I’d seen it all before; a skinny policeman stood at every lamppost to enforce the law. I was so scared that I rushed into a shop, and there, the woman explained everything to me. I had four more blocks to walk before I could catch the double-decker bus for my guided tour.
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