The penultimate day, and, after barely 15 minutes, the border crossing from Namibia into our final country of the trip, the Republic of South Africa. The border immigration queues, both for exiting Namibia and for entering RSA, were non-existent, but somehow it took an hour to negotiate the crossing. The RSA official, Celeste, would win no prizes for her PR abilities; she graduated with a first from the Pol Pot Charm School.
Not much else to report about the day, except that it seemed to have got yet hotter, leading others besides me to want to upgrade again to aircon at our overnight, The Highlanders, one of the very many wine-growing estates hereabouts. I would say, from the fixtures and fittings lavished upon the rooms, that there is money sloshing about in this business. A lot of money. As with farmers the world over, though, he toed the party line of not having two ha'pennies to rub together.
At 1700, mine host put on a dégustation. All good knockabout fun. Many were tempted to buy a bottle or two. Not a wine lover myself, but I have to say the Chenin Blanc and the Pinotage were rather good.
No comments:
Post a Comment