Sandton station visit

It's hard to get too enthusiastic about a building site, or a station, but I decided to take advantage of having a friend who works for Bombardier to go take a look.

The first thing that strikes you is how much more like a building site than a station it looks. Seriously, this is supposed to be up and running by May, and it seems quite a long way off.

Secondly, it's very deep. Something like 11 floors, if I recall correctly. There are 3 platforms on 2 levels, down a LOT of stairs. Well, there are escalators, but they're still covered in dustsheets and haven't been switched on yet. As I said, it's a building site.

On the way down we encountered the typical rooms full of miscellaneous piping, workers busy welding unidentifiable structures, and generally plenty of hustle and bustle, people walking past carrying large and improbably shaped items, etc.

So most of the station is below ground.  At ground level there's an enormous car park (very glamorous) and they're leaving some kind of platform to build future stuff on top of.

Trains started running into and out of the station about a week or so after our visit.

Hunting!

I must confess to having always had a visceral dislike for the idea of people going out and shooting animals. Growing up in Herefordshire, there is a certain amount of fox-hunting, and I always found the idea of killing something for fun slightly repellent.

Without getting into the fox-hunting debate, I can say my views were changed by an experience in Norway in 2007 - watching a moose hunt. Here's the background to the moose hunt:

• Moose numbers are very carefully monitored so that the hunting doesn't cause depopulation.
• The natural predator (the wolf) no longer exists in the country.
• People eat what they kill. It's not for fun.

All thing put together, this means that for me this is morally acceptable - just as much as eating meat from the supermarket. Like it or not, when you buy a steak, something has to die.

So I decided to take advantage of the opportunity here in South Africa to participate for myself. Marisca and I went away for a weekend to a nice bush lodge, and early on the Sunday morning, my professional hunter and I went off to find some blesbok.

It wasn't long - we crept quietly through a thicket and on the other side, about 150m away, were a group of the antelope grazing. My heart was racing as I steadied the rifle on the hunting sticks. But the cross seemed to be moving all over the target, so I sat down and retried. This was much better. I squeezed the trigger and there was an almighty bang. I watched in horror as the antelope began to run, thinking I'd only wounded it. Happily it quickly fell over.

Turned out I'd got him right through the heart - not only had he not suffered too much, but the meat wouldn't have adrenalin in - good news for the taste!

My PH was ecstatic! He was very impressed with my shooting. Given my lack of experience (ie I've never held a rifle before, let alone shot one), he was expecting the first shot to be a miss, and that we would spend the whole day tracking a wounded animal.

We pretty soon had the thing hanging up and the guys removed all the insides.

After a short game drive, we sat down to breakfast, and served on a small plate, were a couple of unmistakeable round objects. Marisca nearly threw up her toast when she saw me eat one of them. The taste wasn't actually that bad - it's just the idea of eating testicles which makes one want to hurl.

Marisca wouldn't kiss me for some time - but at least I have my testicle-eating story!


I will say though that I've learnt why people enjoy hunting. It's quite an adrenalin rush. Happily for Marisca, I've not become a vegetarian from the experience.

I now look forward to collecting a massive bag of biltong and venison steaks which should last a long time!

Things you won't see back in Europe

Here are a few scenes which most South Africans would consider completely normal, but might raise eyebrows back home.

A pick-up truck on the motorway with 10 black people in the back.
This is very common. Typically the driver is white.
A couple of guys cycling the wrong way along the hard shoulder of the N1.
It's the busiest stretch of highway on the entire African continent. One guy was carrying a wheelbarrow frame over his shoulder
People sitting outside the entrance to builders' warehouse holding up signs saying "plumber", "tiler", etc.

One of the guards at my complex told my girlfriend today that he wants to move back to the guardhouse at her complex, because they've got new uniforms.
It's tempting to conclude that the same importance of status is why the first thing successful black people buy is a flash car. Even if they can't afford it. Bling is very big here.