
Day 22 – Swakopmund to Windhoek
Sat at breakfast with the three gossipy bitches Katie, Jenny and Jennie. (They feed of chatter)
We have a strange day ahead of us. May go to the market with Sue before getting on the bus back to Windhoek at 12.
On coach now. Just beaten Becca at chess; wooooh! Managed to spill coffee down me already. It’s a smooth ride though. In fact it’s very swanky for a coach. So much nicer than Hans’ bloody crammer-mobile in Etosha.
This is the beginning of the end I suppose. The start of three days of travelling. I’d love to stay another week or two. Had like a twenty second chat with Mum this morning. She seemed pleased enough to hear my voice. Suppose there are advantages to going back home.
I’ve decided I really don’t want to live in England when I’m older. Here, I’ve come to appreciate good weather, chilled out people and cheap prices. Everyone here speaks English and they all follow a British football team. Unfortunately, it’s usually Manure.
I don’t know where my ideal home would be though. San Francisco Bay, Paris or somewhere obscure like Norway would be so cool.
We played ‘guess the career’ a few days ago on the bus in Etosha. I came out as a bachelor writer living in a London flat, clutter everywhere, drifting in and out of the spotlight, sliding into obscurity. I don’t know if that’s good or not to be honest. Becca’s was surf instructor; Scott’s was mad scientist.
I can see Scott as a mad scientist; inventing something that changes the world but killing himself in the process. Oliver was Mr. 2.6 Children. The family guy with a nice wife, a dog, and a semi in the suburbs. I could see it!
This coach is well snazzy. It has reclining seats and everything! Just seen a security guard stood outside a library in some tiny town. For a start, why? Who wants to run into a library with a sawn off shotgun? What would the demands be? “Put the library stamps in the bag and no one gets hurt! Do it or I’ll take you down”. It just wouldn’t happen. There’s no money in robbing libraries.
So… why have a security guard there? In fact, why have a shiny one as well? All the security guards in Namibia seem to be shiny, weedy, small or all of the three. At home we have bouncers the size of caravans dishing out law and order. I have to say I’ve never seen anyone try to rob Weatherspoons. The Namibian’s need to learn and fatten up their body guards!
Was asked for a coffee a while back. The woman said “Would you like it like me or like you?” I didn’t have a bloody clue what she was on about! I just said “With milk”, to which she laughed. Apparently, as she’s black, she meant black or white coffee. How the hell was I supposed to get that?! Maybe she just doesn’t like the word ‘black’; silly I think.
The coffee was nice though.
Got to the Cardboard Box without too much trouble. Managed to leave chocolate and cake on the coach. Was well gutted and got ripped for it.
One problem with Cardboard Box; they had double booked, so we had no rooms available! Had to be shipped to another lodge for the night. Right pain in the arse.
Although, the boys’ rooms are amazing! The girls had to share a shitty one-room, 7 bed, hole. Thoroughly deserved in my opinion.
Sat up ‘til 12 to sing happy birthday to Lawrence. He seemed pleased enough with our nakered, monotonous effort. What a strange way to spend a birthday.
There’s toilet water all over our floor… oooh yeah feel the cleanliness in the room!