TDI: 3 What's this?
Do you have money for the taxi?
I was very excited about visiting South Africa. I was told it’s versatile, and people are fun. Also, Capetown has a reputation as one of the best cities in the world. I was able to tell why, on my very first day: The city is surrounded by the ocean, and in the middle of it, there’s a mountain. The famous Table Mountain. The city is developed. It looks a lot more like Europe, than Africa. That was a downside for us, Najib and myself, but a big plus for the majority of travelers.
The population is very multicultural: Black, White, Indian, Asian…Ultimately, that’s what South Africa is known for. Also, there are many descendants of the Kalahari desert people. Those look pretty exotic: They got khaki color skin and very small eyes… Quite different than the majority of black people. Over the decades, the Kalahari people were mixing with other ethnicities, and as a result of that, Capetown’s got plenty of very interesting-looking people. I really liked women. On top of the exotic ethnic background, they were also very trendy and stylish. So the geographic position gives the city a constant ocean breeze, which makes it feel surprisingly fresh. So, is there a downside to this city? Oh yes! it’s dangerous…
Everything’s happening in downtown: All the restaurants, bars, hotels, hostels, shops. It is very westernized and easy to navigate around, cause all of the streets are parallel. Najib and I found a hostel there, just like all other backpackers. Once checked in, we were told at the front desk we should be careful, cause the robberies are pretty common in this town. He also added downtown area is generally safe, even at night.
The only problem was, the downtown was way too boring for us. We didn’t come to Africa to get an experience similar to the one you could get in London or Manhattan. We felt the same about our hostel. It was nice, convenient, cheap, and practical. But it was a little too commercial for our standards. Since we were planning to stay in the city for the whole week, we have decided to take our time and look for a hostel that feels more like home.
We checked out a few other hostels. All of them seemed even more commercial. The Table Mountain looked spectacular from downtown. We were looking forward to hiking it, but first things first… Let’s find a new home.
While sitting in a coffee shop, I saw a flyer from Hostel District 6. According to the photos on the flyer, the place looked more casual than the hostels we’ve seen. We have decided to go check it out. But we had to find it first, cause it wasn’t on Google. I forgot to take the flyer with me when I was browsing it online later. So apparently, District 6 is a small neighborhood about 1.5 km away from downtown.
So So, we went from downtown to District 6 along the highway. As soon as we left the last block of downtown buildings, we got surrounded by open space on the left and the right side of the busy highway. Pretty boring walk.
“If we end up staying there, we probably won’t be able to walk back at night”, Najib told me.
”Yeah. Well, here’s the bus station. I’m sure there’s plenty of buses frequently going there.”
District 6 looked nice. Quiet, middle-class residential neighborhood. We asked the first guy we saw on the street if he knows where the District 6 hostel was.
“This house right here is a hostel”, he responded while pointing at a two-story house with a small front yard, across the street. “Not sure if that’s the one you’re looking for, but I don’t know any other hostels around here.”
The house he referred to, didn’t have a sign or anything. It looked like a residential house. We rang the doorbell.
“Hello, May I help you?” a weird-looking guy greeted us. He was dressed in some sort of Japanese silk pajama or kimono, his hair was dyed in 1000 colors and his voice was very, very squeaky. I think the modern way to describe him would be ‘gender-neutral’, or ‘metrosexual’.
“We hope so. Is this a hostel? We’re looking for accommodation in a dormitory for several nights.”
“Ah, come in, take a look.” He seemed a bit surprised.
The place did not look like a hostel at all. Very casual. Like a house where a bunch of people lived. The place was clean and the rate was affordable. It better be. It shouldn’t be more expensive than the hostels downtown.
“We’ll take it!” We were so content, cause we had invested an entire day in hostel shopping.
Our new home in South Africa turned out to be a lot better than we thought in the first place: None of the tenants were tourists. They were all locals that lived here. Some of them in the dorm, and others in private rooms. Some of them pay rent yearly, some monthly, and some daily, like us. Man, what an awesome way to experience the culture… Melted with locals in the residential neighborhood!
Soon we learned, the tenants are super interesting… crazy, more specifically. Including the proprietor! Some of them are less crazy, others, completely crazy! For instance, one of the guys never talks, never smiles, likes to stare at the wall, and has a look of a serial killer. Some other guy is super nice, but can’t stop talking. Another one also talks a lot but we could never understand a single word he says. The female tenants weren’t as crazy, but they were very cool and fun.
“Well, it looks like home!” Najib said.
“And it feels like home!” I added.
The next morning, we were drinking coffee on the terrace of our lovely new home and making a plan for the day. We were gonna go hike the mountain: Get to the trail through a neighborhood, hike across the mountain, and drop down in another neighborhood. There were so many trails, with access from different neighborhoods, so we were planning on doing this for the next several days. Different trails probably have spectacular views of the city, the ocean, and the mountain itself. Also a great plan for exploring different neighborhoods. We were excited…
Our host popped up at the terrace. He was always in exotic pajamas, with crazy hair and an incredibly squeaky voice. He could have been an interesting movie character.
“Morning boys, what are you up to today?” he greeted us. Hearing the sound of his voice felt like an extra shot of caffeine in my cup. We proudly told him about our plan.
“Nice, just be careful so you don’t get robbed.”
“In town, or up on the trail?” I asked.
“Both”, he responded with a discreet smile. Like danger is something completely normal. Nothing to be worried or upset about.
“Even during the day?” we asked surprisingly.
“Yes, always. But now it is the rainy season, so it’s not that bad. During the dry season, there are more hikers, so more robberies.”
“Man, what are we supposed to do now?” Najib was wondering. He turned off our excitement quickly.
“It sucks. We’ve just made such a good plan. For the whole week.”
“Bro, we can’t give up on our plan. Otherwise, there’s no point in staying in Capetown.”
“Yeah, let’s stick with the plan. We just gotta make sure we come back during the daylight”, which meant by 6:30 PM. “It shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Even if we get robbed, we’ll probably lose just our cell phones and some cash”, Najib concluded.
“Really wouldn’t be the end of the world”, I added. “Value of a cell phone can not be compared with the value of exploring the world. Let’s get ready!”
Our energy level rose again. We came up with this cool idea: Only one of us should carry the backpack with our stuff… Water, snacks, raincoats, etc. Two people walking, both of them with backpacks look too obvious. Unless you are a high school student.
Once we reached the very end of the neighborhood, behind some buildings there was a parking lot. We were looking for a trailhead. Before we saw it, we saw a sign:
‘Beware of the robberies on the trail.’
“I guess our crazy host is not completely crazy”, I said.
The hike was incredible. One of the best hikes I’ve ever done in my life! The mountain looked spectacular. Don’t even wanna talk about the views of the city and the ocean.
“Bro, this hike is the reason why this is one of the best cities in the world! If we didn’t do this, the city would be nothing special.” I completely agreed. But we didn’t see any tourists on the trail. Tons of them downtown, though. What’s the point of coming to South Africa? To sit in a nice coffee shop that looks just like the one in their hometown?
That explains why we preferred staying with the locals, rather than with the backpackers. The majority of them are totally lame. Spending way too much time on the internet and doing only ‘Top 5 Things To Do’ from Trip Advisor. I do run across interesting, adventurous travelers, but unfortunately, it happens rarely. Thank God for my friend Najib. He’s got the same mentality as I do.
We got off the mountain, and back in town a little after 6 pm. Just like planned, we ended up in a different neighborhood. Now, we quickly had to get downtown, get some food, and back home before it gets late and hostile. By the time we reached downtown, it was dark already. Almost 7. We hurried in the direction of District 6. At the beginning of the highway, we saw a bus stop we have noticed yesterday. We looked around us. There was a lack of ordinary-looking people walking and plenty of people that looked like they could rob us. It would take us about 15 minutes to walk. It just looked too sketchy, so we decided to wait for the bus.
While waiting at the bus stop, I noticed across the street a sign in front of the entrance to the building: ‘Hostel District 6’
“Yo, look! Hostel District 6. This is the place we were actually looking for. It is not located in District 6, it just has a view on it from its terrace!” Now everything made more sense. Our hostel had no sign on the door.
“Man, I am so glad we did not run into this hostel yesterday. Our joint is the best in entire South Africa!”
“It’s Sunday. Maybe that’s why it takes longer”, Najib said, since we’ve been waiting for 15 minutes now.
Normally we wouldn’t mind waiting, it’s just there were a lot of hostile-looking people walking around. We saw taxis passing by. We were thinking of waving, then I remembered I was told we could get robbed by the taxi driver. Happens all the time. Especially at night. Well, we’ll wait. The bus should be here soon, hopefully. Some lady came to the bus station. She looked normal. Good, we are not the only ones waiting here.
Another 15 minutes have passed. The ratio of normal people and the ones that look like potential robbers was getting worse from minute to minute. So, we were getting more paranoid from minute to minute as well. Interestingly, none of these crazy-looking people were paying attention to us. They all seemed to be in some sort of a hurry, going somewhere.
“I think they are not hostile at this time of the night. Now they are busy getting their stuff. Around 10 pm is when they’ll want more of it, but they’ll need the money to buy it… That’s when they get dangerous.” That was the theory I just came up with.
“Yeah bro, makes sense. Look at this guy how fast he walks”, he pointed at a homeless-looking guy with hippie hair and no teeth – which is an easy way to recognize a crackhead. He was walking a lot faster than he seemed he could.
Now, the woman, that has been waiting next to us, has left. We are by ourselves again. Us, and the crazy people passing by. It felt like, by standing here, we’ll get robbed for sure. The question is only ‘when?’. Standing here really felt like we were asking for trouble. So we needed that bus to arrive ASAP!
After another 15-minute wait, the bus finally arrived. Yes! We happily got our metro cards ready and headed in. I inserted my card in the machine at the front door, next to the driver. Instead of the metal gate opening, I heard an unpleasant sound from the machine.
“You don’t have enough credit”, the driver told me.
“Ok, how much?” I asked him as I was pulling some cash out of my pocket.
“You can’t pay for the ride with me. You need to refill your card.”
“OK, and where can I do that?”
“At the terminal. But it’s closed now.”
“So what can I do?”
“I don’t know. But looks like you won’t be able to ride the bus tonight.” Shit! So we walked out of the bus, back at the bus stop.
“Fuck! What do we do now?” I said desperately.
“We can’t take a bus, can’t walk, can’t wave a taxi.” We also weren’t able to activate the Uber app for South Africa, since we didn’t have a local phone. We were gonna get a SIM card, but we got busy browsing for a perfect hostel.
“I have an idea!” I announced. “Let’s walk back to downtown and look for the police station. Then we can ask them to call us a taxi or Uber.” The bus stop was located at the end of downtown and at the beginning of this creepy open space. We just needed to walk about 50 meters, till we reach the first block, and we would be in the safe zone. The tourist district.”
During those 50 meters, we passed by more crazy people. Almost there.
We were passing by the main cathedral on our right and the streets of touristy downtown on our left. Now, the ratio of normal-looking people and crazy ones was significantly better.
“Let’s go left at this corner”, I suggested.
On the left side, we saw a bunch of police cars flashing their lights and a crazy person with a shopping cart breaking his belongings in the middle of the street. Definitely, an action going on.
“Yo look, right in the middle!” There was a sign ‘Police Station’. “Let’s go, Najib.” He was standing frozen, observing the crazy man in the middle of the street and trying to assess the degree of danger.
“Bro, let’s go! He is most certainly dangerous, but the street is full of cops.” I managed to make him move. We walked to the closest police car. Two cops sitting inside.
“Excuse me”, I told politely, and then even more sincerely, “I apologize we are interrupting, you are obviously busy right now”. The whole street block seemed dramatic and all these police cars seemed to be assigned to handle this crazy dude.
“No, it’s fine. What’s up?” The policeman responded calmly.
We explained how we were running out of reasonable options to get home. He told us to go to the police station and ask inside for help.
As we were walking in, two guys and a girl, about our age, were walking out furiously: “You fucking useless people!” they were yelling behind them, inside. Then one of them told us:
”Don’t even bother relying on them!”
Well, we had to. They were our only chance. We approached the lady at the front desk.
“Yes?” she asked us while typing something. She didn’t even bother to look at us.
So we explained our story. She finally looked up and said:
“Do you have the money for the taxi?” an unusual question, we thought. I do remember mentioning we are tourists. Who flies to a different continent without enough money for a 2 km taxi ride, split between two people?
“Yes! We just didn’t wanna wave one, ’cause we heard taxi drivers rob their passengers frequently.” I explained.
“We couldn’t activate Uber, cause we still don’t have the local SIM card. It’s only our 3rd day in South Africa”, Najib added. The woman was looking at us sharply.
“Do you have the money for the taxi?”, she repeated the same question.
Before my arrival in South Africa, I have been exploring various countries of this continent for 4 months now. One thing I have learned, on this continent, the white color of the skin represents wealth. To Africans,’ white’ means ‘rich’. Now South Africa is different and more developed, but regardless, it felt so weird, after all these months of being treated like a rich man, now I can not convince this person I am not broke.
“Yes, we definitely have the money for the taxi!” I responded as clearly as possible.
She was looking at us without blinking. She didn’t seem to be convinced two of us together have $5 And what if we didn’t have the money for the ride? They wouldn’t help us?
“Wait here”, she said and called out one of the cops. He approached us. She explained to him the shortest possible version of our story. Then we jumped in with our suggestions.
“If you can call as a taxi that won’t rob us, or Uber, cause we don’t have an account. Or if you or somebody from the station could give us a ride. It’s only 2km away.”
“Do you have the money for the ride?” the cop asked us. Whatta fuck… Are we dreaming? Is this a movie?
“Yes!” Najib and I responded loudly, perfectly synchronized, with eyes wide open.
“OK, I will give you a ride. Gimme a minute.”
He drove us in his personal car and charged us a fee, maybe a bit more than the regular taxi. But who cares. We’re back, we made it!
“Yo, after all this, we might wanna consider moving back to the hostel downtown”, I was saying as we were walking into our dorm.
“Yeah, I know what you think.”
“Cause it is very challenging to accomplish our plan and return here by 7 pm.” Then, I saw one of the crazy tenants, lying on his bed and mumbling to himself, and changed my mind: “But this place is just too much fun…”
“Yeah, let’s just stay here.”
“Agree. It’s a hustle, but we’ll be more organized.”
“We’ll get a Sim card tomorrow morning.”
“And I’ll refill the stupid metro card.”
Even the Netflix TV series ‘Blood and Water’ is inspired by Capetown’s crime scene. You can read about it in this article.
“Awesome & dangerous”
“This city is seriously dangerous”, Najib was telling me while we were having coffee, the next morning.
“And how can such a dangerous city be so touristy?” We were staring at the downtown buildings from our terrace while thinking about this mystery.
“Hopefully we’ll find out the answer before we leave Capetown.”
“Yes, let’s make a plan for the day and get outta here.”
“Agreed. We have a busy day ahead. Let’s get the Sim card and the metro card first.”
Later in downtown, we noticed some guy that was walking in front of us, abruptly turned around. Looked at us, and proceeded to walk.
“Yo, did you see this”, I whispered to Najib while walking. “This guy thought we could rob him.”
“Yeah bro, and this is downtown. Even here at 10 am it’s not that safe.”
We have noticed the same thing, locals nervously turning back, looking at who’s behind them, several times during our stay.
So, we did another epic hike and managed to come back to town safely. It was 6 pm, but we still had to reach downtown and get something to eat before we go back. At least we had a metro card this time around, and it wasn’t Sunday.
The supermarket was closed already. It’s open till 5 pm only. Crazy. We were guessing they close early so the workers could come back to their neighborhoods before dusk. Getting the food was challenging for us not only because of the store hours but also because of the high prices. It’s cheaper than Europe but more expensive than the countries we normally travel to. South Africa is a pretty developed country. That being said, it’s a challenge to find cheap street food.
Luckily, we managed to find some food in the street market! It wasn’t located in the ‘safe’ downtown, but nearby. The downtown begins on one side of the main city plaza, and the street market is on the opposite side of it. We sat in a tiny shop where three ladies were making food. They were immigrants from Congo. Apparently, all the food shacks were held by either Congo or Nigerian immigrants.
The vibe at the market seemed more authentic, especially at the shop where we were. We ended up eating here every evening after the hike. It was our getaway to ‘Real Africa’, which is a lot different from South Africa. The Congolese ladies were very fun. We got connected with them pretty quickly. They were traditional Africans from traditional Africa. We asked them if they find it dangerous here. All three of them said “Yes”.
Interestingly, their home country has a very bad reputation for violence, but according to them, Congo is significantly safer than South Africa. While writing this story, I haven’t been to Congo, but I’ve been to 37 other African countries. Some of them with a very bad reputation: Cameroon, Nigeria, Niger, and Mail to name a few. However, while traveling to those countries, I felt a lot safer than in South Africa.
They were telling us how they frequently get threats in their neighborhood from Zimbabweans and from Zulu people as well. Zulu is the South African ethnic group famous for resisting colonial power in the past. Today they are famous for crime and violence. Zimbabweans were the most dominant nation of immigrants. It was more of them in the country than Nigerians and Congolese combined.
By their neighborhood’ I actually mean ghetto or township. That’s how it’s called here. Shiny downtown and the beautiful mountain had nothing to do with the everyday life of ordinary people in this city.
We were assuming, back in Congo, the ladies were probably wearing traditional colorful African dresses. But here, they were dressed in jeans and regular sweaters, so they don’t look like immigrants. Otherwise, they would be a more noticeable target.
It was almost 7 pm when we finished our meal. Good timing, we thought.
“Be careful! There’s a lot of gangsters around here.”
“Even here?” Najib asked them with a surprise, and then looked at me: “Let’s get outta here!”
“So this is the main city market, right next to the main plaza. It’s not even 7 pm. But it’s already dangerous…” I was saying while walking fast through the market, towards the familiar bus station.
“So tourists are generally afraid of Africa. If they dare to visit it, they go straight to the most dangerous country on the continent!” I was saying while we were waiting for the bus. “And they tell me I am crazy for visiting Sierra Leone, Angola, or Malawi. Those countries are the Vatican in comparison to this one!”
“Yeah. I don’t think I’ve been to a more dangerous country either.”
“Tourists in downtown hang out at hip bars or eat at some French bistro. Those activities are safe, but is that enough reason for them to think of this city as one of the best in the world?”
“I dunno man. It definitely can be, if you do the hikes we did, but did we see any tourists up there?”
“Well, we saw one girl today.”
“…and those three loud people yesterday, but I think they were locals.”
So that was our routine for almost every day of our stay. Hiking across the mountain from a different neighborhood, back to a different neighborhood, dinner at the Congolese ladies’ shop, followed by the nervous 2 km journey home. Obviously, the day wouldn’t end there, cause once arrived, we would enjoy the experience of living with the crazy locals!
One day we changed our routine, and took a train to the peninsula, outside of the city. Different hike, different scenery, but again, beautiful. Getting back was, again, scary…
We reached the train station sometime around 6 pm. As we were waiting for the train, the security lady, standing next to me said:
“Why don’t you take a taxi? The train ride is dangerous.” Our eyes opened wide. We were prepared for the ordinary hostility once we get back to the city. Not on the train towards it. We were also assuming, outside the city, it should be safer than in it. Well, we were wrong.
“Passengers on the train get robbed…”, she paused. Then she pointed at some security guy stepping on the station and said: “Oh, he came. That security man will get on a train. So you guys should be fine.”
The train was approaching the station. We followed the security guy in. I wanted to make sure we were in the same cart as him. The security lady was directing all the other passengers to the same cart. That was the routine I guessed. One security means one cart in service.
During the ride, we were busy reading small advertisement stickers posted all over the walls of the cart: Abortion service, Hip enlargement, Drugs SOS line… Then some guy walked in. His hand was inside his jacket, at the rib level.
“Look at this guy, I think he has a gun”, Najib was whispering to me. He really looked like he did. He was sitting exactly across from us. We both looked to the right, where the security guy was. Then we looked back at him. He took a glance in the same direction we were looking at. That’s when he probably noticed the security guys on board.
“Does the security guy have a gun at all? I can’t see from here.”
“I can’t either.” He was sitting on our side, several seats down, and there were some other passengers sitting next to him, so we couldn’t see what he’s got to protect us.
The guy across us kept sitting with his hand inside his jacket. It did not look natural, or comfortable. He was definitely holding something in his jacket. He was looking at the security. We were nervous. The train stopped. The door opened and the guy walked out, with the hand still in his jacket.
“That was close”, I said.
“You think he was gonna rob us?”
“It seemed like it”, I responded. “Then he probably gave up, cause he saw the security.”
“Maybe it wasn’t a gun. Maybe just a knife.”
20 minutes later, the train arrived at the terminal downtown. The danger was not over, so we had to stay sharp.
The following day was our last one in Capetown and we still didn’t have an answer to our question.
“Why the whole world loves the city that’s so dangerous?” Najib was asking while we were having our morning coffee. Both of us have been asking ourselves that question during the whole week.
Luckily, we finally got the answer later today, during our last hike… The worst one! We started as usual. Got on the mountain from a different neighborhood, then we decided to go back by a trail that’s just under the gondola… The signature red gondola takes tourists to the top, where all the famous pictures of the city are taken from. Obviously, that spot or the gondola ride wasn’t on our list. Anyway, the trail under the gondola was completely packed with people… Both locals and tourists.
“Why are there so many people on this trail?” It was madness. No peace, or serenity. Quite the opposite actually.
“Don’t know man. It’s not even a fun trail. It’s too steep.” So many people in both directions. It was very exhausting to go up, and painful for the knees for hiking down. After only 5 minutes of hiking this trail, we saw more hikers, then hiking the whole week all other trails combined.
“Now everything makes sense. This city is not really dangerous for other tourists.” Najib was saying while we were eating at our Congo joint.
“Yep. They get accommodation downtown. They either hang out there, or they get a taxi ride to the gondola. That’s all they do.”
“And those two activities are enough for them to call this city ‘the best in the world’, cause whenever they visit some other city, they won’t be any more adventurous.”
“Have you ever seen a tourist in this market?” I was looking outside the shop.
“Nope… And this is not an extreme place. It’s the main city market, only five minutes walk from downtown.” We felt content, cause we were getting so much clarity all of a sudden.
The reality is tourists, do get robbed in Capetown, but not too often. Well, because we managed to explore the city the way we wanted, we had a great time. By our standards, Capetown’s a fantastic city to visit, but definitely not the best in the world. That title still belongs to La Paz, Bolivia.
The drama has just begun
Obviously, Capetown’s not the only dangerous part of this country. All of the cities were. Most of them were a lot more dangerous, actually. Luckily, small towns in the countryside weren’t.
So, we had a great time in Coffee Bay, a beautiful hippie village on the shore. It was also more authentic than the cities. The women had yellow paste all over their faces. We weren’t sure why. We were just happy to see some people that look different than the ones in Europe. In order to get to Coffee Bay, we had to exchange transport in the city of Umtata. The intercity buses stop at the gas station 6 km outside of the city because apparently, it’s too dangerous for them to make a stop any closer. It was a smaller sized city. Still big enough for the danger to be present at any corner.
If you like this photo, I would recommend checking out my gallery post from Lesotho, the neighboring country of South Africa.
Then, Najib and I had to split. My plan was to go to Durban, the 3rd largest city, where I needed to get a new passport. Najib was planning to stay in Coffee Bay for a few more days, before going to Lesotho – a small country landlocked in South Africa.
In Durban, I stayed in a hostel 10-minute walk from the beach. When asked at the front desk if it was safe to walk to the beach, I was told:
“Only during the day and only on this street. Walk straight ahead. Don’t turn right or left in any of the side streets.”
I didn’t really expect the capital of the Zulu province to be any safer. I mentioned how the country dangerous was when I was chatting with some other travelers in the hostel.
“What did you expect? This is Africa!” One of them responded.
“This country is a lot more dangerous than Africa. As soon as the night falls you can’t walk anywhere”, I continued.
“Well you shouldn’t be walking anywhere in this continent when the night falls”, the guy responded sharply. He seemed to have an attitude like I dunno what I was talking about.
“Well, I have been to many African countries and safely walked at night. Not 11 pm, but 7 or 8 no problem.”
“Well, I know Africa as well. I have been to Uganda and Kenya”, he told me proudly.
Of course. He went to those countries to see the safaris, which has nothing to do with seeing Africa. Ordinary people dunno what the world is like, cause they don’t travel. But this guy is traveling, and he still doesn’t know anything. People visit a country with a certain judgment, and they desperately wanna make sure their traveling experience won’t change that judgment. It’s sad. The other backpackers seemed to be on his side of the debate. Can’t talk with his people…I was missing Najib already.
At the front desk, I noticed an unusual sign: “We do not accommodate the citizens of South Africa.” It seemed like discrimination, of course, but the management had their reasons… The girl at the front desk told me there are reports of locals stealing in the dorms, so many of the hostels, all over the country have this policy. Which is very unfortunate for the honest locals.
Later that evening, I randomly ran across the news on Google about the most recent armed robbery on the train in the Capetown metro area. It took place during the day. Man, this country is a serious mess, I thought.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get my passport here. I had to go to Johannesburg – the capital of South Africa, the largest city, and the center of hostility as well! I did hear a lot of stories about how bad things were over there. Despite being worried, I had to go. My passport was completely filled with visas and stamps. I had no more empty pages left.
Once I arrived at Johannesburg, I saw some taxis parked in front of the terminal. Then, I asked a lady that was standing next to me:
“Excuse me, do you think these taxis are safe?”
“Not really. You could get robbed.” I wasn’t surprised to hear that. Luckily, by that time I had a sim card with an Uber account activated.
“And if I call Uber?” I asked her.
“That should be a safer option.”
The city center from the window of my Uber ride looked pretty chaotic. It seemed busy, vibrant, interesting, and dangerous. Even if I was not familiar with the hostilities of this city and this country, I wouldn’t feel comfortable walking around here.
Once I arrived at the hostel, the girl from the front desk gave me a tour of the property. When she showed me the rooftop and gave me information about the city… the threats, more specifically.
“Always look like you know where you’re going. Don’t take any pictures on the streets. Don’t go out with a lot of money or anything valuable. Try not to go out at night at all. Keep your passport in the hostel. Don’t wave taxis for the ride. Don’t talk on your phone while walking. Avoid talking to random people on the streets. Generally, try not to be outside, unless you have to.”
I wasn’t surprised by any of the things she was saying. But I have never had to listen to such an extensive warning speech in my whole traveling career.
The city seemed very vibrant and fun. Too bad it’s that dangerous. It reminded me of New York, where I have lived for 5 years. But more like a 70’s version of it. When I lived there, New York was pretty safe, but I have heard so many stories about the city during the ’70s. Its chaos was also an inspiration for many Hollywood movies. Back then, the city was the world’s center of business, finance, art, and party… but, at the same time, it was the center of crime, drugs, corruption, and chaos.
Back then, you were able to have plenty of fun, only if you were smart and knew the city very well. That’s how Johannesburg felt like. And I wanted to get to know it better and find ways to have fun while staying safe. I already had a plan: Get a new passport and meet Najib in Lesotho.
I remember the conversation I had with the Uber driver lady, that was giving me a ride to the embassy.
“I was told in this country it’s safer to call Uber, cause if you wave a regular taxi, they may rob you.” I started a conversation.
“Yes. On the other hand, when it comes to Uber, the drivers get robbed.”
“Seriously?” I was shocked.
“Yes.”
“Taxi drivers rob customers. And customers rob Uber drivers?”
“Exactly.”
“So how do you deal with that?”
“I got myself a gun last week. It’s on me at all times.”
So I got a new passport and successfully left the city without getting robbed. In the mid-time, Najib got robbed twice!
When he was done exploring Coffee Bay, he went back to Umtata. From there, he would take a bus to the city of Bloemfontein, and from there to Lesotho. He was convinced both Umtata and Bloemfontein would be a lot safer cities to deal with, than the cities I was dealing with, meanwhile. He was wrong.
When he got to Umtata, he decided to spend the night there and proceed the next morning to Bloemfontein. Otherwise, it would be a night journey… Riskier to travel at night, and even more risky to arrive at night. While in Umtata he became friends with a local, that has invited him for a drink. They were having a good time in a bar. Then they wanted to go to another bar, in his friend’s car. On the way there, he made a quick stop in order to get some money from the ATM. Once he got out of the car, the door on Najib’s side opened. Two people pressed their knives against him: one at his belly and the second one against his throat pulled the phone and the wallet out of his pockets, and took off. The whole operation lasted a few seconds.
“Do you think your friend has set you up?” I asked him. That immediately came to my mind.
“I don’t think so, because we spent the next 5 hours looking for the guys that robbed me. I wanted to let it go, but he didn’t. He was more upset than I was. I only lost a cheap phone and $30 in cash. He played a detective and kept asking me what they looked like. By the way, he also seemed like some sort of a wise guy and apparently had too much pride to leave something like this behind. He had a good car. He seemed like a too big fish to do such small crimes like stealing cell phones.”
“And the second time?” My eyes were open wide from hearing this exciting story. Najib’s were as well, from telling it.
“Next day I took a bus to Bloemfontein. In the late afternoon, cause there was nothing scheduled in the morning. My Umtata friend drove me to the terminal and told me to be careful, cause it’s the most dangerous city in South Africa!”
“No shit.”
“I finally arrived at the Bloemfontein terminal at 4 am. The bus to Lesotho was at 6, so I was chilling at the terminal. It was around 5 am when I wanted to get some water and a bite. At that time, the shops at the terminal were still not open. I walked to the entrance and saw a shop open, 20 meters ahead. It was still dark. There were only crazy, hostile-looking people on the street. There was a security guy standing at the entrance, next to me. I asked him if he could keep my backpack while I go buy water. He said he’ll put it in the office and go with me. So I went to the shop 20 meters distance with security… And we both got robbed!”
“No…” My wide-open eyes got even wider.
“Wait till you hear this… Between the terminal and the shop was the Police station.”
“You and the security guy got robbed in front of the police station?”
“Wait. There’s more.”
“Are you making this up?”
“I wish… So, normally I would debate if it’s worth going to the police, but since I was in front of it, and I had another hour to kill, I decided to report the case. The woman inside… You know, like in Capetown. When I said I got robbed, she gave me a piece of paper, and said without looking at me: ‘Here, fill this.’ Then I told her, ‘I got robbed here at the front. They are here, can somebody get them?’ She responded while still looking down, ‘Just fill out the form’. Man… while I was filling it, somebody else came in and reported he got robbed. The woman just gave him the form without looking at him. Then another person bleeding from the stomach walked inside. ‘I got stabbed’, he told the lady. She responded the same way without looking at him: ‘Fill out the form’.”
“What the hell?” I was completely shocked.
“Yeah bro, it’s crazy. They rob in front of the police station. Obviously, the police in South Africa don’t give a shit!”
“And the stabbed guy was probably resisting getting robbed.”
“Probably.”
Anything positive about South Africa?
Yes, of course! I just think it’s a lot more exciting to read about the hostile experiences than about hiking the hills along the shore at Coffee Bay. It was stunning and beautiful and I really had a blast while doing it, but I just dunno how to make an exciting story about it, that’s all.
So, other than the crackheads and small gangsters that are persistently robbing on the streets of the cities, the rest of the people, the normal ones, are pretty awesome, fun, friendly, and open-minded. I have spent 4 weeks in South Africa and met many exceptionally nice people. Najib felt exactly the same way. Every encounter with a local he had, other than the ones that put a knife under his throat, was very friendly. People in South Africa are impressively pleasant, from the hostel workers to the cashiers at the grocery stores, black or white, male or female, young or old. Even when I met a South African elsewhere, in another country, I had nothing but nice memories.
Same at the hostel in Johannesburg. One night I had a beer at the bar that’s part of the hostel. Then the owner invited me to his table and ended up treating me and some other guests with booze all night. I remember he told me he never had safety problems in Johannesburg cause he knew the gang’s language. He said it’s the basis of the Zulu language, with the prison slang. He was a Zulu. He’s never been to prison but grew up in a Zulu ghetto. He gave me exciting advice.
“If somebody tries to rob you, if you don’t know the language and don’t have a gun on you, look at him in the eyes with respect and empathy and tell him: ‘My nigga, you are not gonna rob me. I am a white nigga and I am a hustler just like you!’ I know white people can’t call black people ‘nigga’ but this would be your only chance to prove to him you are one of them.”
“Interesting… I wonder if it’s easier for me to learn the language.”
“Or just get a gun!” he was laughing while opening a new bottle of wine. Najib got a great safety lesson by being robbed. I got one while enjoying free drinks and fun company.
At the moment of writing, I have visited 93 countries all over the world and South Africa was by far the most dangerous of all of them. Yet, it was very fun and interesting. Despite all of the hostilities, I would definitely love to visit it again!
I’ve learned a lot about safety from my experiences. Check out my Travel Safety Tips post.