This article first appeared in Media Club South Africa

22nd February 2010

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As we passed through the entrance to the Victoria Falls, it was there to greet us again: the ubiquitous, mysterious bird that appears on Zimbabwe’s national flag and coat of arms, as well as in countless sculptures and statuettes across the country.

There was some disagreement amongst our group as to the bird’s provenance. Two Zimbabweans were at loggerheads. One insisted that it was a purely mythical creature, based on soapstone renderings found at the ruins of the Dzimba dza mabwe, or Great Zimbabwe; the other felt that it depicted a real bird species – but couldn’t remember which one. So the South Africans offered some (admittedly unhelpful) suggestions: a fisheagle? A francolin? A griffin-like composite of different species?

This article first appeared in www.mediaclubsouthafrica.com

27th November 2009

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The old fort is full of intriguing sense data. Walking past one doorway, you hear the clang of metal beating metal and the murmur of voices; through another, you catch a glimpse of a man bringing a fire to life with the bellows of his lungs. The smoke mixes with the salty-stale smell of the ocean blowing in over the ramparts. Outside, feeling the same sun that has caused the paint on the walls to flake start to beat down on your skin, you seek shade under the canopy of the sole tree occupying the whitewashed courtyard.

This article first appeared in THE WEEKENDER

31st October 2009

For people who have never been to Paris, the Gare du Nord is an evocative symbol: busiest train station in Europe, point of arrival and departure for millions of international travellers annually and, over the course of its 150 year history (one imagines), scene of many a romantic moon-and-mist rendezvous.

But Parisians know that, like the Gare St Lazare, the Gare de l’Est and various other glamorous-sounding transport terminals in the city of love – or light, or any cliché of your choice – when you get right down to it, the Gare du Nord is just another station. Which means that it’s dirty, it smells of urine and it’s full of people who want to be somewhere else.

This article first appeared in GOLF+ Magazine

September 2009

We’re halfway down the fairway of the par-five 4th when we see Clever Denga striding towards us, clubs slung over his shoulder, waving and grinning broadly.

Clever is the Estates Manager at the Elephant Hills Resort at Victoria Falls, which also makes him in charge of the 6 205m Elephant Hills championship golf course. “Sorry,” he says, extending a hand in greeting, “we had an emergency on the bowling lawn; a warthog got through the fence.”

This article first appeared in SAWUBONA MAGAZINE

June 2009

China and the Chinese have been increasingly prevalent in both media reports and dinnertime conversations over the last few years. Nevertheless, despite China’s burgeoning global profile (culminating, perhaps, in the 2008 Olympic Games), and although China will be key in helping the world economy recover from the financial crisis, international perspectives on China have not really become more nuanced than the tongue-in-cheek sentiment expressed in a Monty Python song some decades ago: “There’s more than a billion of them in the world today. You’d better learn to like them, that’s what I say!”

Likewise, in South Africa, perceptions about China and Chinese people tend to hinge around news headlines such as China Buys Into Standard Bank, China Launches Africa Investment Fund or Chinese South Africans Now Qualify For Black Economic Empowerment Benefits. This superficial awareness is a pity, as the history of Chinese involvement in this country – and, moreover, the growth of the Chinese South African community – is a complex topic that ought to be more widely understood.

This article first appeared in SIGNATURE Magazine

June 2009

“Travel, in the younger sort, is a part of education; in the elder, a part of experience.” Those words, penned by Sir Francis Bacon some four hundred years ago, express very neatly a thought that occurs to me more and more as I grow older.

When I was in my twenties, there was no doubt in my mind that Bacon was right: those who visit a foreign country in the flush of young adulthood are, in many ways, “going to school”. Fresh out of varsity, I wanted to learn – travel was a cultural, linguistic, gastronomic, architectural and geographical education.

This article first appeared in THE WEEKENDER

30th May 2009 

One of the more curious sights at the SA National Museum of Military History – it’s not a permanent exhibit, but can be seen most afternoons of the week – is the colourful spectacle of a children’s party. Mothers chat casually at tables piled with soft drinks and crisps, while tank barrels loom incongruously above their heads. Boys and girls leopard crawl across an emerald lawn surrounded by heavy artillery, under the instruction of a camouflage-uniformed soldier whose gruff voice belies a primary school teacher’s benevolence.

Here is no ideological conflict; the only observable source of disagreement is about the relative merits of favourite football clubs. Nevertheless, although the now-harmless military equipment on display provides an exciting playground, the uncomfortable question must be raised: do we want our children to have positive associations with weapons of war?

This article first appeared in THE WEEKENDER

28th March 2009

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It was a long weekend and we were in the Drakensberg. Our plans hinged around a hike up the famous Cathedral Peak which, at just over 3000 metres, is among the highest mountains in southern Africa. One of our party had reached the summit at the tender age of 12, so we assumed that a group of relatively fit adults could make the climb without too much difficulty.

How wrong we were.

This article first appeared in THE WEEKENDER

21st February 2009

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Shhh ... come a little closer and I’ll share one of Jo’burg’s best-kept secrets with you.

If you don’t live in Victory Park, Craighall Park, Linden or Blairgowrie, the chances are you haven’t heard of the huge “green lung” enclosed by these suburbs: Delta Park. You’d think that 104 hectares of grass, trees, dams and animal life in the middle of South Africa’s biggest city would not go unnoticed. But, after buying a house about two hundred metres from the park’s western border, I’ve discovered that using it as a reference point when giving directions to visitors is futile – the most common response is, “Where the hell is Delta Park?”

This article first appeared in iafrica.com's "Departure Lounge"

16th January 2009

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We all enjoy a nice hot bath. But let’s face it: the bubbles-and-candles, glass-of-wine-and-a-good-book variety can get a little boring (not to mention lonely) after a while. It’s much more fun sharing the tub with someone else – in fact, with a whole bunch of people, preferably complete strangers.

The Romans did it, the Greeks did it, even Ottoman-style sheikhs did it ... and no, I’m not talking about the kind of thing that Big Brother contestants get up to in a jacuzzi. I’m referring to that oh-so civilised activity, the communal bath.

This article first appeared in THE WEEKENDER

8th November 2008

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Most of the time, when I fly somewhere, I pay for the ticket myself. Almost all of the time, in fact. For much of my travelling life I was as ignorant as everyone else in economy class as to what happens on the other side of those magical curtains that separate the plebeians from “executive travellers”. Suffice it to say that business class lounges and I were also not well acquainted.

This article first appeared in THE WEEKENDER

21 June 2008

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Having jumped at the chance to join a group of friends on the much-vaunted Whale Trail along the Cape South Coast, I took a cautious step back (although, by then, it was too late) when I discovered that the trip was booked for the middle of summer. After all, though I don’t pretend to any great knowledge in the field of marine biology, anyone who’s ever had to give advice to an Hermanus-obsessed British tourist knows that “whale season” – when the gentle Leviathans come to breed close to land – is in the late winter and early spring. November at a push. But any later than that and, well ... then it’s just the Trail. Or so I thought.

This article first appeared in THE WEEKENDER

26th April 2008

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My idea was a simple one: to spend a day visiting naval and maritime museums on opposite ends of the Cape peninsula; and to do it using public transport or going on foot, eschewing the carbon-guzzling preferences of most well-heeled South Africans exploring their own country.

Suffice it to say that the day-trip took longer than I thought it would.

This article first appeared in THE WEEKENDER

29th March 2008

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The Coastal Guide of South Africa (Jacana)
Text by Lynne Matthews, artwork by Sally MacLarty and Penny Noall

“They bite us, and sting us, and even try to kill us,” complains irrepressible Scottish comedian Billy Connolly, “but when are we going to learn that THE THINGS THAT LIVE IN THE SEA DON’T LIKE US?”

His point (mixed in with a few choice Anglo-Saxon four letter words) is well made. But that’s not the end of the matter, because whatever the creatures of the sea may think of us, it’s clear that we like them: we like to look at them, and swim with them, and hunt them, and eat them.

This article first appeared in THE WEEKENDER

29th March 2008

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“The Swiss,” I was declaiming to anyone at the table who would listen (which was no-one, as the conversation had long since moved on from the question I was now attempting to answer), “are not only neutral when it comes to foreign policy; they also practice a careful diplomacy with internal matters. Because of the clash of German, French and Italian languages and cultures in Switzerland, along with the famously independent-minded cantons within the federal government system, it’s difficult to please everyone when it comes to making decisions. And this penchant for political correctness explains why the Swiss continue to use the Latin name for their country, Confederatio Helvetica, as a basis for abbreviation. So Swiss cars have bumper stickers displaying a large CH, Swiss website domains end in .ch, and – ”

“Actually, sir, that’s not really true,” our waiter interrupted. “We just like things that start with ‘ch’; you know, cheese, chocolate ...”

This article first appeared in THE WEEKENDER

16th February 2008

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Our first few days and nights in Japan left us feeling as if we were part of a botched high-school science experiment: stuck in a vacuum, a half-world. We had arrived in Nagoya (Japan’s Port Elizabeth, only with no beaches, triple the number of people and ten times the amount of concrete), where we would be staying for a year, teaching English and earning Yen.

This article first appeared in TRAVEL IDEAS MAGAZINE

Autumn (Feb-April) 2008

Jaded business travellers are fond of complaining that, inside and out, one hotel is just the same as another. Indeed, although accommodation is an important consideration for most people when they’re planning a holiday, once they’ve decided on a destination and a budget, the only criteria they apply are a clean, comfortable room (a hearty breakfast is a bonus) and a not-too-inconvenient location. Certainly, it’s unusual for someone to look for a special hotel first and only afterwards to plan their itinerary. But then the Swiss have always been a bit different. And, as the members of the Swiss Historic Hotels association are keen to show, exploring the history, culture, food, architecture and natural beauty of a particular region needn’t end when you step inside your hotel. In fact, it can begin there.

This article first appeared in THE WEEKENDER

8th December 2007

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If you’ve visited Grahamstown before, the chances are you were there for the National Arts Festival – for a few dirty days of hedonism (some overindulge in theatre, dance and music, others in beer, wine and spirits, but the effect is often the same) in a windswept, rained-out, freezing cold, nondescript dorp. Well, I’m sorry to say, in that case you haven’t been to Grahamstown.

This article first appeared in THE WEEKENDER

20th October 2007

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A few years ago, I told a friend that I was going to the Cederberg for the first time. He gave a curt reply: “I hope you like rocks.”

Well, I do like rocks, but – as I know from spending a lot of time as an undergraduate around pick-wielding geology students – I don’t like them that much. So when my wife and I turned off the N7 midway between Clanwilliam and Citrusdal and headed east on the kind of gravel road that Japanese automotive engineers definitely didn’t have in mind when they designed the Toyota Tazz, we weren’t quite sure what to expect.

This article first appeared in THE WEEKENDER

4th August 2007

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THE WORLD THAT MADE MANDELA by Luli Callinicos (STE Publishers) 

As a rule, people don’t like to mix tourism and politics – after all, the former is primarily a leisure activity, while the latter is a daily source of frustration and even anxiety. At times, it can’t be helped, such as when global politics interferes with travel plans (ask anyone who booked a visit to the USA starting on September 12th 2001); at other times, it may add curiosity value to a destination (the same traveller might find it very interesting if he or she deferred the trip to coincide with next year’s American presidential elections). Generally, however, we like our holidays apolitical, thank you very much.