Coming off my long layover in Paris, I got to Johannesburg early on Thursday morning, not really knowing what to expect. I was just using the city as a quick stopover, as I had originally planned to head straight to Madagascar from there, though my plans had already changed before my trip even began. Instead, I made my way through the airport, stopping off at the Air Malawi ticket office to buy a one-way ticket for the small country for the next day. I had booked a cheap hostel "near the airport" though the 2 km distance turned out to be more like 10 km. It was still close and easy enough, though I'd have to pay for my ride back to the airport, and it wasn't as close as I thought it would be. My friendly driver, a worker from the hostel, was a Zimbabwean named Blessing, and his easy-going attitude made it a pleasant ride back to the small hostel, basically just a large converted house in a quiet, residential neighborhood. As with most of the houses, the place was surrounded by a concrete wall with an electric fence along the top. Though the neighborhood felt fairly safe, stories of crime in Jo'burg are all too frequent, and you can see signs of that even in the quick drive from the airport.
I basically spent the day planning my next few stops. While reading my book, the warm winter sunshine shining through and cool breeze through the open window enticed me into a great nap during the afternoon, and I got up and around just in time to run a few errands and get some dinner before darkness set in. The night was not as peaceful as it should have been, as a German tourist was apparently locked out of the house (he returned after 10 pm curfew), and he proceeded to honk and yell for about half an hour before someone finally opened the gates and door for him. Soon enough, I was headed back to the airport, ready for my real start of my African expedition, heading into South Central Africa to the small nation of Malawi, a sliver of a country hugging a huge lake along the Great Rift Valley of Africa. Described with many superlatives such as the Warm Heart of Africa and Africa for Beginners, this country is known for its beautiful beaches along the enormous lake, vast countryside and friendly people. I was anxious to see the place firsthand, after reading story after story of travellers who have fallen in love with the place.
Arriving after the two hour flight, I came into Blantyre, one of the largest cities, situated in the Southern part of the country. I took out a huge wad of cash from the cash machine, so much so that I couldn't even close my wallet, as they apparently only dispense 500 Kwacha notes at that airport ATM (500 Kwacha is about $3.33). I quickly negotiated with my friendly taxi driver, and I was soon on my way. Since Jo'burg didn't really count yet, this was my first real taste of Africa, speeding down the paved road, passing a multitude of children, families and workers, making their way along the side of the road, either on the pavement or along the red dirt paths lining the sides before merging into the dry yellow grass and parched landscape. People were walking, running, riding bicycles and even carrying massive bags or bowls on their heads, just as you'd expect from pictures of these faraway lands. My driver almost darted into oncoming traffic a few times trying to pass a slow-moving truck, though he made the right decision to pull back each time. Though English is the official language, it's the second language for most people here, so the accents take a little while to get used to. Getting into the edge of town, we broke off of the paved road onto a bumpy, red dirt path leading past the "bus station" (a large mostly dirt patch of taxi drivers, shouting people and a variety of large and small buses in no apparent order), and around the corner to my hostel, a concrete compound sitting literally across the street from a hut made simply of small sticks. Fortunately, the hostel wasn't bad with a small bar/restaurant in the front and even a swimming pool, though the cold day kept anyone from even thinking about getting into the water.
I dropped off my bags and decided to venture into town, a little anxious about the prospect of venturing around. Through my travels, I have seen many different cultures and environments, but there still is a little bit of culture-shock to see something completely different than anything I've ever experienced. Nevertheless, the best way to get over that is to simply immerse yourself in it, so I made my way down the road, smiling and greeting the friendly people that passed. Back onto the paved road, I walked past a few roundabouts, finding the streets lined with tons of people walking this way and that, some looking at me, most simply going along their way, as this is not at all off the beaten track for Westerners. The streets featured many basic concrete shops, hardware stores, hair salons and everything else you'd expect. I was excited to get to an Ethiopian restaurant about 15 minutes away, but just as I was getting close, it was just starting to sprinkle, and the sky almost looked black in the other direction, so I decided I'd rather get back to my hostel before the massive storm came, getting just slightly wet as the drizzle got a little bit stronger, never quite materializing into the storm that the dark skies foretold. Around 5, things looked slightly better, but I again decided to just stay in and call it a night, getting ready for an early morning bus ride to a nearby national park known for crocs, hippos and idyllic rides down the river lined with palm trees and other vegetation.
(The not-so-scenic roads of Blantyre, Malawi. The main road just consisted of some random concrete shops selling various hardware and bits of food, though nothing enough to catch my eye.)
(My hostel was on a dirt road just behind the hectic bus station, just across the road from a wooden shack. Nice.)
(For my first dinner, I couldn't resist the sound of a pseudo-burrito with spicy beans and guacamole. And no, it wasn't really spicy.)
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