CHITTY CHITTY BANG BANG!!

Back on home soil and as much fun as we had in Durbs, there’s just no place like home (cue 3 ankle taps on glittery red shoes and a soft landing in your own bed)

So the Chef and I arrived in Durban in what can only be described as truly South African style. With our bags packed, cooler box stocked with liquid and non-liquid refreshments, we set off to the newly renovated, still post modern eyesore, known as Cape Town Station. It is at this point that I must digress slightly and outline both mine vs. The Chef’s traveling style. Crazii = small bag on wheels, book and calm demeanor. The Chef = heavy backpack with broken straps and nervous twitches. I travel quite regularly, I have yet to be left behind on any mode of transport, be it train, bus or plane. This was the Chef’s first experience on a South African long distance train and boy was he cute! We got to the station a full hour before the train had even thought about docking on the correct platform, never mind actually taking passengers to a pre planned destination. We were the first there, alone on Platform 24 looking overly keen and only slightly like a pair of rather sore thumbs.

The Chef: Crazii, what’s the time?
ME: It’s 5 o’clock Chef.
TC: What time are we leaving?
ME: 6 o’clock Chef.
TC: So where’s our train?
ME: Well, judging by the position of the sun, the number of passangers around and the frequency at which the electrical currents are travelling… Chef, sit down, calm yourself, and worry not for I promise our train will come in shortly.
TC: But where are all these people going, shouldn’t we follow them.
ME: Only if you’re a lemming and like the idea of living in Belville.
TC: How do you know it’s going to Belville?
ME: Sign, train number, neon lights saying “Belville 17:20”
TC: Smart ass

Needless to say, miraculously our train arrived and we boarded with great excitement and found ourselves lucky enough to have a 4 sleeper all to ourselves! Cue jumping up and down, high pitched screams and general all round happiness! A loud “Choot Choot” and we were off, waving farewell to our glorious mountain and heading to what I quickly learnt was the hottest place on the planet!

TC: Crazii, what are you doing?
ME: I’m waving goodbye to my mountain.
TC: Firstly, I don’t think you have entire ownership of the mountain and secondly, is it totally necessary to do it with ¾ of your body sticking out the window?
ME: Well firstly, he is my mountain and if you’re going to get jealous, I think this is something that needs to be discussed up front. Secondly, he won’t be able to see me just waving one hand out the window, the full body wave always works best.
TC: Crazii, you are barely inside a piece of fast moving machinery travelling at some unusually fast speed towards what can only be described as large dangerous objects, does it not strike you as peculiar that your are doing exactly what the 3 x bright red signs in our compartment alone are saying is ILLEGAL.
ME: Kill Joy.

So while modifying the words to “The wheels on the bus go round and round” we uncorked a bottle of red and relaxed into an evening of fine dining and great company. A bottle of red down, tummy’s having had their rather inelegant sufficiency and with hours of glorious conversation behind us, it was time to settle into pj’s and bed.

*BANG*CRASH*BOOM*WHAT THE F***!!!

TC: What on earth was that???
ME: I don’t know, let’s go see!
TC: Crazii, stay inside, you can’t go running around in the middle of the night in your pj’s.
ME: It’s fine Chef, the train has stopped, everyone is up now and the mystery begins…

(and off I run to see what all the fuss is about!)

TC: Crazii, get back on the train.
ME: Why, we’re in the middle of nowhere and the train is stationary.
TC: Exactly, we’re in the middle of nowehere and there are bandits about.
ME: Bandits! What kind of bandits?
TC: Train robbers Crazii, the bad kind.
ME: The kind like Jesse James kind?
TC: Yes Crazii, now please, get back on the train.
ME: No ways, I want be carried away under the starlight by Brad Pitt!
TC: Crazii, these bandits are not like Brad Pitt
ME: How do you know? Maybe he’s finally come to his senses and realized I am far better than Angelina.
TC: While I have no doubt you are far better than Angelina, I very much doubt that Brad Pitt has robbed the cables of the train just to secure the apparent love of his life in the ass end of some little town in the middle of the Karoo. So would you please, for the love of my patience and sanity, get back on the train.
ME: Okay, but only once I’ve found out what’s really going on…

(and off I run to see what all the fuss is about again!)

Exasperated and obviously not appreciating the glorious movie style adventure we seem to be in, the Chef finally manages to coax me back onto the train with promises that, although I may not be carried away ala Hollywood style into the night by Brad Bitt, he does promise to make sure at least I receive a parting kiss from the handsome bandit. As it turns out, we were not unfortunately robbed by Brad Pitt, but by some sneaky cable thieves who cut the electrical cables of the train, securing our abrupt emergency stop in Afrikaskop under a bright and brilliant milky way, for the next 7 hours!

You have to give cudos to Shosholoza Meyl at this point. While completely managing to tell everyone on the train absolutely nothing about what was going on, they did feed us and serve enough tea and coffee to keep us occupied until we were shunted into Ladysmith by an old but obviously more reliable diesel engine. From Ladysmith to Durbs we were bused into Durban station to a welcoming mob of people obviously patiently waiting for presumed lost family members and a warm welcome into the arms of The Chef’s family.

So now begins the story of how I met the Fockers, the Frekkers (as Chef calls his friends) and the Frikkin massive bugs that reside so happily in the humid hothouse known as Durban!