Knysna- Trust me when I tell you it was ridiculous, and I have no need to ever go back. Cute town, albeit rather commercial. Also, populated by a couple of fascinating individuals who prey on traveling girls in their twenties and exploit the notion of a free drink. Tony and Charlie, namely. There were speedos and near bar fights involved, and we won't go into that. If you want further details, we'll email. Oh, and there was a nice lagoon.
Plettenberg Bay- Anything would have been nice after Knysna and the Island Vibe hostel that we stayed in there, smelling of gasoline and kids who drank too much. Nothando, the backpackers we stayed in while in Plett was clean and suburban and far removed from old men with bad intentions. There were comfortable beds, fresh towels, and a great sushi restaurant nearby. Felt a little like central New Jersey. More quaint, though. We went to a couple of preserves while in Plett called Monkeyland (guess what you can find there) and Birds of Eden. Both were fun and really worthwhile. Monkeys are hilarious and well trained at stealing food. There were some obnoxious German tourists who found it appropriate to smoke in the midst of Monkeyland. Geez. Monkeys have lungs, too. We left Plett rather sadly, as we knew it would be our last real outpost of civilization before we headed on to our final stop, Stormsriver. We got some groceries, some box wine, and said goodbye to the comfy sheets of Nothando.
Stormsriver- Goodbye Nothando, hello Tube n' Axe. That was the name of the backpackers we stayed in while in Stormsriver. Picture mid-twenties, dreadlocked vagabonds with a pension for, as my mother calls it "smoking the ganja." These are the people who run the Tube n' Axe. With names like Monty and Bushy and Leon, what could one expect of them? Hate to say I was a bit of a grandma and passed out early, due in part to that box wine. From the stories I heard the next morning, I missed a good time. Stormsriver is a tiny little outpost in the Tsisikamma National Park. Driving into the park, also the portal to the province of the Eastern Cape, was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. Valleys and hills and rivers and canyons and bridges. Bridges to jump from, as it were. And so I did. I, along with 9 of my compatriots, jumped off of the highest bungee jump in the ENTIRE WORLD. Yes. THE WORLD. I made sure to get not only the pictures, but also the DVD of my jump, just for you nonbelievers. It was the scariest thing I've ever done. Basically, they walk you out to the middle of the bridge, call out your number, bind your feet up and clip some kind of harness somewhere, and walk you to the edge. Your toes hang off of the edge slightly as they give you a count of "5,4,3,2,1, BUNGEE!" and then you jump. You have to. For all intensive purposes, they push you. My stomach was all out of sorts for about the next 24 hours. Glad I did it for the bragging rights, but I don't really need to do it again. You should do it, if you ever get the chance. Back to the Tube n' Axe and some more (surprise!) obnoxious German tourists, one of whom was drunk and asked us if we were slaves. Um. No. Another, presumably slave woman's lover, but in reality her husband's friend (red flag, anyone?) showed us the Chicago LP he had just acquired. Congrats, German dude. Early bed again for me. Lame, I know. I woke up to a long day on the Baz Bus, about 9 hours total. We ended up having to leave Ian and Isaac in Mossel Bay for a night due to a glitch in the booking, and they had a very interesting journey back the next day. The rest of us got home that same night and went straight to bed, ready for the first day of classes bright and early the next morning.
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