Day 13 - Sand, a Bus, and Namibian Line Dancing

So, with a morning to kill, we decided to drive down to Walvis Bay to see what was happening. Walvis Bay is the second largest city in Namibia, so we figured that there had to be something interesting. Unfortunately, Walvis Bay is a giant industrial shipping port, so we didn't find anything. The wind was blowing sand from the dunes making driving challenging and anyone who could was staying indoors. After dropping into a very rough looking coffee shop--only in Walvis Bay could you put the phrases "rough-looking" and "coffee shop" next to each other--we finally found a mediocre bakery and grabbed a second breakfast. The Hobbits would have been disappointed.

While there might have been many interesting things to Walvis Bay, we had neither the time nor the inclination to find them, as we wanted to go see Dune 7, which is the largest dune on the coastal dune belt. We headed out of Walvis Bay and drove through the sandstorm to see the dune. We got there, waited for a break in the wind, quickly rolled down windows, and took pictures before the interior of the car could get a deluge of sand. It was worth the drive.

With about an hour left before we had to drop our car off and then catch our bus, we drove through downtown Swakopmund to take pictures and check out the market. Apparently, merchants from Zimbabwe sell their crafts at a market next to the lighthouse, but we didn't see anything appealing - Janie never did get her wooden giraffe - so we didn't stop to inquire. However, we did see some neat older structures that, in a sense, seem quite out of place in Africa.

The time had come to depart Swakopmund, so we dropped our car off, ran into Spar - the local supermarket chain - and Wimpy - the local burger chain - for snacks and lunch to tide us over on our bus ride. Then, we walked the kilometer or so walk, turning down an offer of a ride from a nice local, and waited for the bus. We arrived at the bus stop to find that, even though we were still 10 minutes from departure, the bus was about ready to leave. While the saying "Africa time" applies in most of Africa, it does NOT apply for the Intercape Mainliner. We boarded and shortly thereafter, the bus was heading for Windhoek. It made two stops along the way. The second stop was noteworthy because we stopped at a gas station where a TV was playing the Netherlands - Brazil World Cup game. There was a crowd of about 150 locals watching the game hooting at every scoring opportunity. It was also noteworthy because the bus started to leave without Carla. Apparently the nose counter counted an invisible rider or two, because we weren't the only ones screaming for the bus to wait. Fortunately, it waited until Carla (and I'd assume the other prematurely counted riders) was onboard before finally taking off.

Once we got to Windhoek, we caught a taxi to our guesthouse. Pendy, our guide, had told us that Joe's Beer House was the best place to go in Windhoek for dinner and drinks, so we asked about getting reservations. We discovered, to our surprise, that, despite holding 500 seated guests, the place was completely booked. It was the night of the Ghana - Uruguay game and everyone wanted to watch from Joe's. However, we decided to go and see if we could get seats at the bar. When we arrived, the hostess informed us that we could sit at an overflow table if we didn't mind sharing the table with others. We said that we didn't mind at all - it was a good chance to meet locals. Little did we know what we were in for...

Soon, a group of men and a woman sat down and immediately engaged us in conversation. They were South Africans on an annual hunting trip to Namibia and had just finished their hunt. They were a hoot and treated us to about every Afrikaans shooter and drink known to mankind and we swapped jokes all night long. When Joe's shut down, they asked us if we wanted to go to a dance club. So, all 10 of us shoved ourselves into a Pajero (or some such vehicle) and took off. We figured the dance club would be a typical techno dance club, but, instead, we wound up at the Barn House, which looked like a country and western dance hall, replete with line dancing. Our new friends taught Janie and Carla how to do the sokkie dance and taught us more about Afrikaans customs. We finally closed the Barn House down, and the Namibian guide took everyone to the lodge where our South African friends were staying. We declined further drinks, and, fortunately, our guest house was near where our new friend lived, so she took us back. It was a great way to end a memorable time in Namibia.