SOUTH AFRICA: A QUICK LAYOVER IN JOHANNESBURG

There is no direct flight from Windhoek, Namibia, to Maun, Botswana, and so we had to book a connecting flight through Johannesburg. We had a late afternoon flight out of Windhoek to Johannesburg, and the second leg from there to Maun wasn't until the following morning, so of course we couldn't just sit in our hotel in a city we had never been to before. Bob had arranged a trip to Carnivore restaurant through our tour company, which provided the airport transfer to our hotel and the driver to the restaurant.

When we disembarked in Johannesburg, there was actually a man from our tour company waiting AT THE GATE and holding a sign with Bob's name on it. He was the only travel agent there. All the others were outside the boarding areas where we usually see them. Such a personal greeting could never happen in the United States. He walked us through immigration, helped us get our bags, and delivered us to a woman, who in turn delivered us to our driver, who took us to our hotel. Talk about getting the royal treatment! We felt like celebrities.  Thank you, Ker & Downey!

Southern Sun O.R. Tambo Hotel (photo from hotel website)

We checked into our hotel, took our bags up to our rooms and freshened up, and then came back down to have our driver take us to Carnivore Restaurant, which was 45 minutes away in light traffic. Our driver was friendly and knowledgeable, and we got him talking a lot about the corruption so endemic in African politics, a topic we were interested in. It was enlightening to get the perspective of a local.

We had eaten at the original Carnivore Restaurant in Nairobi about four years ago, but I was recovering from a bout of food poisoning then and ate only rice, so I was looking forward to this meal. We got there rather late in the evening, and it was nice that it wasn't very crowded.

The decor is what you would expect for a restaurant that specializes in game meats:

The fact that it won the award for "Best Restaurant to take Tourists" tells you a lot, don't you think?

There was an all-you-can-eat buffet section for the rice, fruits, vegetables, and other side dishes:

Meats were cooked at a large grilling station in the center of the restaurant and brought on spits to each table. We ate zebra, crocodile, kudu, and impala.  I think we agreed that the zebra was the best. Again, we could eat as much as we wanted. However, by this point in the trip I was getting weary of the heavy meat dinners focused on wild game. This was at least our fourth such meal, and the novelty was over.

After we were sufficiently stuffed, we headed out to our waiting car and driver, passing more of the "authentic" decor:

I wouldn't let Bob pass up this opportunity to pose with one of his favorite animals:

Was it worth almost two hours on the road to eat dinner there? Not in my book, but it was a fun adventure anyway.

We got back to the hotel around midnight, and the next morning we actually slept in until after 8:00, a blessed change of pace. However, then I discovered that the South African plug adapter I had brought with me would not work. In Cape Town our room had the standard European two-prong plug, but the Johannesburg hotel required the standard South African adapter. Mine looked like this, but when I plugged it in, it would not make the connection with the current unless I held it tightly in place. Of course, this is the one hotel in the world that didn't have a hair dryer, and by the time I figured out how to get current through the adapter, I barely had time to dry my hair with my own dryer (all the while holding in the plug) and curl my bangs to keep myself from looking like a drowned rat. I had the same problem at another hotel later in the trip, so I know the problem was with my adapter, not with the hotel outlet.

We took a shuttle to the O.R. Tambo International Airport, not far from our hotel. It is a large, bustling airport, servicing over 21 million passengers a year, and once there we weren't sure where to go. As we were looking around, a man approached us and took us to a machine where he scanned our passports. Just as our boarding passes were printing, two security guards grabbed him by each arm and walked him out the door. We figured he must be a scam artist or pick pocket or something and were relieved to be free of him.

We checked our bags and started toward the security area preceding our gate when who should appear but the very same man who had been roughly escorted outside just 30 minutes earlier. He insistently offered to escort us to the right place. We said we were fine and knew where to go, and he assured us that he had been "needed in the office back there." He was persistent in offering help, but we were more persistent in declining it, and finally we made it through security and away from him.

As always, my eye was caught by frequent references to Nelson Mandela, whose nickname among the South Africans who adore him is "Madiba," his clan name and a sign of both respect and affection. 

This clothing shop proudly proclaims that "Madiba wears my shirts" (apparently in place of heavenly robes).

Under that sign is a framed handwritten note from Nelson himself:

Mandela's face can be found all over the airport:

And by the way, it is found on every piece of paper money as well:

On the back of the bills the "Big Five" game animals are depicted. I'm missing one--the red 50 rand note that has a lion on the back:

We made it to our gate with time to enjoy a snack at a restaurant overlooking our gate. We had left the crowds behind. I guess not many people need to fly to Maun, Botswana!