Ponies on the Beach? Whatever works... (travel stories, part 1)

As promised, an epically long blogpost is here. I actually hate writing such long posts because as a reader I hate having to slog through pages and pages of writing – I get bored, distracted, annoyed, whatever – but with almost 3 weeks of backpacking through South Africa and Mozambique behind me, I feel like there's no other option apart from epically long. Bare with me. I'll post it in two parts – both to give you time and space to read it, and to stop myself from having to sit down for a full 3 hours to write it all. South Africa's first...

I don't think I realized how much I missed big city life. Or exploration. Or walkability of a city. Landing in Durban, South Africa (SA), Alice and I were flabbergasted by the overwhelming greenness of the surroundings, the steep hills of the city that *gasp* actually give a view of the city (Lusaka is totally flat), and the beautiful houses not necessarily encompassed by tall stone walls. Durban has a Miami Beach art deco vibe and the largest Indian population outside of India which makes for an interesting mix. We only stayed the night there before hopping into our little blueberry of a car and making the 8-hour trek south to Coffee Bay.

The Coffee Shack (our hostel) was precisely what they claim it to be – a backpacker's paradise. Clean, tropical, conducive to conversation with mid-sized tables, little enclaves, hammocks strewn in the shade for lounging and vegging, as well as flowers, activities and friendly people aplenty. I witnessed an older wrinkled woman in hippy-ish low-crotched gauchos encouraging a blonde-topped two-year old, fat, happy toddler to do sun salutations. It was one of the cuter things I've seen in the water. Coffee Bay made up the more active part of our trip. The mountains buttressing the ocean there weren't jagged and angery, but softly rounded off in plush green. At certain points they just fell off. Ended. Disappeared into empty air that toppled into the ocean. The scenery surrounding Coffee Bay is a mix of Ireland's green fields, Australia's plump sheep, a rainforest's lush jungle, all blended together in a kaleidoscope contained by the cliffs. It pulls me from one continent to another until I'm totally discombobulated and I don't know what part if the world I belong to.

Alice and I hiked to Hole in the Wall, a massive striated rock with a perfectly symmetrical hole washed out of the middle, waves lapping through the center, now we're Koh Phi Phi, Thailand, or Ha Long Bay, Vietnam. We had pre-signed up for a horseback riding trip after our long hike (not thinking things through too clearly...). Parts of the ride were sluggish and sleepy, but it was refreshing to be on an animal again, and whenever we trotted or cantered I was electrified with an exhilarating jolt of energy. We ran the horses on the windy, salty beach at sunset, then walked them up a nearby mountain for panoramic views. I turned behind to Alice and said, “This is too much beauty for one day. I can't take it.”

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The huts around the Wild Coast, particularly near Coffee Bay, are simultaneously awesome and baffling. Although people tell me that the Eastern Cape is the poorest province in SA, the huts are nowhere close to as dismal or primitive as those in Zambia. In Zam, it's an anomaly to find a concrete hut – most are made from mud. On the Wild Coast, almost all of them are concrete and they have corrugated tim roofs instead of thatched straw ones. Moreover, there must have been a recent shipment of bright turquoise and soft coral paint, because if the huts aren't white then they're one of the above two colors. As a result, the lush green undulating landscape is dotted with bursts of color. It imparts a festive sentiment, and I imagine indirectly lifts people's moods. How can you be bitter and morose when you live in a turquoise house?

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Do you think the goats look both ways before crossing the street? The rate at which they bound across and narrowly escape, then jeeringly look behind them with what I imagine is a little giggle, I'd have to say yes.

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I thought I liked Coffee Bay, but Port St. John's may have won me over even more. The jungle-and-mountains-and-ocean combo seems even more exotic and decadent than the wanna-be Ireland-ness of Coffee Bay. Our one full day there Alice and I were blessed with the gift of a gorgeous sunny and hot day (it had been surprisingly chilly thus far on our vacation) and took advantage of it by driving to the beach 4 km away, then walking a short 30 minute hike into a nature reserve to find a sprawling long beach, deserted save for a few families lounging in the shade. The slope of the beach was oh-so-gradual and the ocean was filled with many long waves as a result. The water was a miz somewhere between Maine and Thailand – colder than I imagined it would be, but refreshing enough in the heat of the clear South African day that it wasn't numbing.

Something I learned and embraced this vacation, and definitely lived out to the fullest in Mozambique, is that to give in to the presence of sand everywhere – in your bag, between your toes, wedged in the crevices of your ears, caked to the back of your neck – is a wonderful think. Instead of fighting the inevitable, you merely accept that it will be there and that you'll get it out at some point, hopefully in a warm shower, but you never know. Sometimes beggars can't be choosers.