Signs of the time

I take great delight in wacky and quirky road signs and murals. Roadside semiotics is one of the great joys of travel. Like when I’m deep in rural Limpopo, for example, and encounter the sign for a tombstone business that advertises Free Erections. Or when I am on a remote island in Lake Malawi and I see the Honolulu Bottle Store. It’s not just about the signs themselves, it’s about the time and the place too. Here are some of my recent favourites:

Swazi gold I'm cruising down the King's Highway from Mbabane to Ezulwini in Swaziland, destination the delicious Afro-Gaudi-esque House on Fire. I stop for a tequila in a dodgy bar - as one does - and I am rewarded shortly afterwards by this gem outside the official Swazi parliamentary buildings. www.house-on-fire.com

Complete Somebody I feel a strange sadness when I pass this sign near the University of Limpopo on the R71 between Polokwane and Tzaneen in Limpopo province. The name apparently comes from the days of Forced Removals under apartheid when the victims who were re-settled here called their barren new wasteland Nobody. Does anyone know more about the story of this name, I wonder? www.golimpopo.com

Which way? “Do you think all roads out here lead to Vhutuwangadzebu?” I ask my traveling friend. “Or is it a circular drive?" “When you see a fork in the road,” he says, “take it”. So being from the Robert Frost School of Roads Less Traveled By (read his famous poem The Road Not Taken) I turn right to Vhutuwangazebu, and as Frost himself would have said, that has made all the difference. Can you spot the difference? www.golimpopo.com

A clear message There’s no real subtlety to this mural on the road near Makhado in northern Limpopo but there’s no mistaking the clarity of the message. I love the fact that it’s on someone’s house. I have to stop and shoot it, but being a fair-weather vegetarian I don’t knock on the door to find out more. Poor Piggy and Chicken. www.golimpopo.com/vhembe

The search for happiness ends here How can one not feel instant joy at the sight of the Happy Cigarettes Shop & Hair Cut Salon? For some reason we are in Mpumalanga’s grasslands and wetlands region and we stop for whisky and gwaai in Ermelo. Later there’s a big, wild storm and we are happy to be indoors with our happy cigarettes and happy whisky too. www.mpumalanga.com

Dreamy lion I have an inordinate fondness for hand painted murals and I fall instantly in love with Dreamy Lion. We are at a bar called Boa Vista which is on the edge of Manica, an edgy, restless market town in western Mozambique. We drink cold Dosh-Em, the local beer, and gaze happily down on the Incomati River snaking its way through the flatlands beyond. www.mozambiquetourism.co.za

What’s in a name I leave Tzaneen, in Mopani district, for Elim in Vhembe district. I take the R36, then the R81 to Giyani, and then on a whim I decide to go via Lemondokop which will lead me to the R578 which is were I want to be led. I am somewhere in between Sephukhubje and Ximausa and am thrilled to find the Dotcom Hair Salon. It’s washing day here, and it’s also down the road from the Jealous Supermarket. www.shiluvari.com

Shoot me I just love this mural for a photographic studio in rural southern Mocambique. To be honest I’m not really sure where we are – just barreling along some lonesome dust road between Bilene and the next cold beer... www.mozambiquetourism.co.za

Terra da boa gente The Mozambicans have their own wonderful style of murals, with a seventies feel and interesting colour. I really like this guy and his wine bottles. We are at a little restaurant in the shade in Maracuene for the annual Gweza Muthini festival, it’s only 9 in the morning and already 42 degrees. The festival marks those who died resisting colonial rule in the 1895 Battle of Marracuene. The festival is supposed to involve the killing of a hippo and the kuphalha (invocation of the ancestors) but the hippos have fucked off and these days some poor goat is sacrificed instead.

Winter warmer, Limpopo style

I return to Limpopo in winter. To Magoebaskloof and to Agatha, my ancestral home. I am struck by the sheer beauty of it all. Ancient trees, autumn colours and golden light. And I am struck by the loving spirit of the funky new eateries and fabulous farm cafes in the area. Here are my highlights:

This gorgeous red head I am enchanted by this tree on the edge of the dam at Sequoia Garden Retreat. This once regal garden was started yonks ago by the Holloway family who planted the first sequoia trees in Magoebaskloof. Now, under new owners, Guy and Nina van Heerden, the garden has been restored, redefined and gotten all sexy again. Go in autumn for a spectacle of red and gold; go in spring for the pink and purple number. Just go. It’s beautiful.  www.sequoiastay.com

Dreamy cottage Oh Meadow Cottage you stole my heart. One of the cottages at Sequoia Garden Retreat is this soul space called Meadow Cottage. Stone and wood, it looks out over a dam and is tickled by the winter grass. In the late afternoon I walk over the dam wall and savour this reflection. Meadow Cottage is a fabulous spot for a romantic weekend, writing retreat or a frisky honeymoon.  www.sequoiastay.com

A fresh new take I spend the night at the stylish new Viewpoint Eatery and Guesthouse. The rooms are calm and spacious; the decor is funky and the food is slow, gourmet, fresh, wholesome, yummy. Ninia Knott is chief cook and bottle washer here, and she's raised the style levels of the mountain with this little charmer. Stay over or go for a meal with gracious views; the restaurant is open Wednesday to Sunday. www.facebook.com/Viewpoint-Guesthouse-and-Eatery-1801176226875735/

That Tree I haven't been back to Kingwalden for months. It was once our family home and is now a hotel. I take a long slow G&T on the veranda and gaze upon the mountains and the famous lightning tree. It's an old silver blue gum which was brought out here in 1908 by my grandfather's first wife Muriel. It was struck by lightning the night his second wife, my grandmother Elsie died. It's a very long story but I have time to talk to both of them and other spirits of the tree. www.kingswalden.co.za

Garden of my Ancestors  There is still wild poetry to be had in the Kingswalden gardens even though they are forlorn and neglected due to Circumstances. The garden keeps growing and changing and I catch the magic of my mother's hand here at the Bibigar, the dam at the edge of the garden, created for the female spirits and the cats. www.kingswalden.co.za

Sarah’s Garden Sarah steps into the sunshine to say hello. This garden was designed by my mother for Sarah Cullinan, who was my brother Brett's girlfriend and who died in 1988 at the age of 28 in a car crash. I love Sarah and I love that she always comes to say hello. www.kingswalden.co.za

The Bibigar I take this photograph on the winter solstice. Yes, this is the middle of winter in the subtropics at Kingswalden gardens. I love the pink plectranthus and the acid green sword ferns all tangled together. Frenzied calm. www.kingswalden.co.za

Golden delicious I love Mina's Art Cafe and Farm Venue in the heart of Magoebaskloof. Everyone loves Mina's. Denise and Rob Tooley have made an old farmhouse into a charming venue and playground and Mina's is an icon of the soul spirit of Magoebaskloof. Mina's does weddings, parties, neighbourhood food markets, music evenings, happy gatherings. There are three self catering cottages and a campsite,. Think simple and earthy, candle light and long rivers walks. Next door is the fabulous Zwakala Brewery. www.minas.co.za

 This is my favourite bridge, at the bottom of the Magoebaskloof, as you head towards Modjadjiskloof. Goodbye for now my ancestral province, I shan't be too long.  

Soul Dancing, Limpopo

Crooks Corner at sunset. We drink G&T and jump in the air. This is the northern Kruger, meeting of three countries South Africa, Mozambique and Zimbabwe, intersected by the Limpopo and the Luvuvhu rivers. We talk about the early tribes that would have crossed here, then pioneers, smugglers, traders, adventurers; later the dispossessed, war refugees... www.returnafrica.com

Lanner Gorge in the rain. We each take a turn to step onto a lone look-out rock on cliff’s edge - and watch as the Levuvhu River below cuts its ancient course through Lanner Gorge towards its confluence with the Limpopo River.  It’s drizzling and the views are wild; a powerful sense of history hangs in the air...so many stories from the Pafuri Triangle. www.returnafrica.com

Kurisa Moya at dawn. Spirit of the wind. True to its name it’s been blowing all night, roof creaking, trees squeaking, bushbabies shrieking. But at dawn it’s completely still and we awake to a soft, pink day overlooking the Kudu River Valley. This is one of southern Africa’s best eco-tourism spots. Good morning beautiful Limpopo. www.krm.co.za

Leshiba Wilderness in the shower. I am in the dreaming heights of the Soutpansberg mountains in Vhembe. I fall in love with a Venda prince. He is tall and muscled; his hands cupped together invitingly. He wears nothing but a loin cloth. Out of his ear comes a shower head. Aaah, my prince is a shower sculpture at the delightful Venda Village at Leshiba; inspired by legendary artist Noria Mabasa. www.leshiba.co.za

Kings Walden under the lightning tree. We drink, eat, love, laugh, weep and wonder under the lightning tree on my ancestral farm, now a boutique hotel. The tree was struck by lightning the day my grandmother died and it still stands silver-proud, an antenna connecting us to the ancestors.  www.kingswalden.co.za

Klaserie River at dawn. A whole lot of us get up at dawn and watch the river turn a steamy salmon pink. We are friends together, from around the world for one dawn and a few days in the deep heart of Limpopo’s oldest and one of its biggest private reserves. www.klaseriecamps.com

The Kruger on a soulful self-drive. We take a gentle jaunt from Orpen to Phalaborwa gate via the Timbavati River Road, one of the prettiest and most geographically diverse routes in the park. We crest the hill and there she is – behold the Timbavati River. Hippos and crocs warming up, we look out for leopard but don’t see any, damn. ww.krugerpark.co.za

Zwakala Retreat on the lawn. We eat food and drink Zwakala Beer. We are gathered in friendship, love and kin on a golden afternoon in the Magoebaskloof mountains. The sun beams us up. We are surrounded by rivers and waterfalls, forests, indigenous kloofs and mountain views. www.zwakalaretreat.co.za

Wolkberg Wilderness with a view.  I gaze longingly onto the purple blue mountains of the northern Drakensberg mountains, spine of the massive Wolkberg Wilderness area. Thick indigenous forests, dancing waterfalls, home to many a river source and mountain adventure. www.magoebasklooftourism.co.za

The Pothole That Got Filled

The little pothole that could 

It’s good news in Limpopo when a pothole gets filled. Not only does it helps avoid accidents, it makes us feel like someone cares and our tax money is being spent wisely. 
I am happy to report that I witnessed an actual pothole filling in our hood the other day.

I was sitting working on the porch, ducking the swooping swallows which nest in the eaves, when outside on the road up pulled a white bakkie from one direction and a yellow municipal maintenance truck from the other. I couldn’t see much from behind the May bush and the azaleas on my porch, but I heard a lot of talking and discussion, some laughter. Tea break and a bit of quiet, then some general commotion for about two hours, then quiet.

I went outside to see what happened, and there it was. The pothole that got filled. The little pothole that could. It may be the smallest pothole in Limpopo – I hadn’t actually noticed its previous existence – but it got filled. Er-mazing. Right here in our street, in our little village, Haenertsburg, where there are only 200 odd houses and our neighbour is a pig. I don’t mean Linda or Louis, I mean an actual pig.  

Our neighbour Mathilde is a pig  

Sailing the Straits of Salamander

Smooching girl sailors                                        

It’s not often one gets invited aboard a yacht called Salamander by a lesbian sailor with a bottle of whisky. “She’s an ace skipper”, said her girlfriend, a journalist, so I armed myself with a stiff Hankey Bannister and climbed on.

We started our adventure with a hearty breakfast at the Yacht Club at the Ebenezer Dam which is near Haenertsburg village in Limpopo. Not many people have heard of Haenertsburg, never mind the Ebenezer Dam, which is one of the area’s most beautiful and underrated water holes. Deep, clean, crowd free and encircled by moody mountains.  

“But the Yacht Club is for members only”, I began my witty repartee with the lesbians…  Yes indeed someone has to be a member haha, and so it turned out that Ace Skipper was, and had borrowed the yacht from a friend. Full of of faded photographs, not-so-shiny trophies and the odd needlepoint painting, the clubhouse has been around forever and is an old and somewhat shabby Deco style building overlooking the dam. But with a fringe of creeper and the right light on the distant bobbing yachts it feels vaguely European, possibly even Eastern European. 

Gracious views from the yacht club terrace

It took quite a long time for us women to get on to Salamander who is a rather small girl herself. But we did eventually set sail, with assorted cooler boxes, cameras, cell phones, ipods, speakers, sarongs, hats, sunblock and nary a man in sight. Sadly I am from that rather old-fashioned school that thinks sailing is something men do for you while you worry about your hair and your wineglass. This time however, my skills were going to be required and Ace Skipper was very patient and explained carefully what a cleat was and also why we all needed to sit at the back of the yacht on take-off.

A good breeze, a sunny day, we headed out towards the waterfall which is at the western end of the dam. We chugged past the old community hall, various holiday homes and newer developments on the shore. I have to say there’s not a lot of taste going down here, and there are a bit too many clubs for my liking - the boat club, the yacht club, the trout club, the angling club and so on. I am a bit Groucho Marx about clubs (won’t belong to one that will have me as a member) so I settled into the Monaco Position (lying on top of the yacht with a drink) and just chilled out.

Reflections on a sailing salamander                                            

What a glorious day. It scored very well on my Whisky Index - proper short glasses, endless ice, soda water – which is always a good thing. We loved the mountain view, swam to the waterfall, endured a brief cloudburst, shared a lot of stories about boats, yachts, sailing. My sailing skills are abysmal but my story was impressive thank goodness– I had recently sailed the bay of Waikiki in Hawaii which is part of some wanky Conde Naste magazine bucket list, so we drank a bit more and decided I should do a story on Yacht Clubs in Africa, starting with the Ebenezer Yacht Club. 

I have already done the Maputo Yacht Club, as it were, which is jaunty and retro-nautical and has a steel band in floral shirts that plays Afro-Mediterranean beat as the waiters prance around dispensing plates of prawns and cold beers . So that's two. And Ace Skipper’s lovely friend’s husband has a yacht in Lagos apparently, so it looks like I may be onto something ... 

Wild times at the Ebenezer Yacht Club in Limpopo