I slept like a log in Villa Wiese, it must have been the bracing sea air. I got up reasonably early and
enjoyed a tasty cooked breakfast (somehow bacon tastes better by the sea!).
Then I set off into the fog which had rolled in off the sea during the night and
wrapped Swakopmund in a thick grey blanket. The town was silent. Only a few
people and vehicles were about. The fog gave the streets an eerie appearance,
like a German version of Brigadoon (the legend of a Scottish village which appears once every hundred
years in the fog!).
I decided it would be a good idea to do a photo essay. So off I trotted down to the lighthouse, as if I had stepped into a Virginia Woolf novel…, and wandered up and down the sea strand, along the jetty, waves crashing underneath, around the Mole and back into town. I wended my way through the still fog-shrouded streets. I snapped away, framing seascapes, street scenes, the German colonial architecture and every now and then captured some colour e.g. brightly painted benches in primary colours and arty murals along walls. I stopped for a latte in the Garden Café which is tucked behind an art gallery and craft shop and sipped to warm up a bit. Afterwards I continued my walk up the seafront and bought a few postcards on the way. I soon worked up an appetite and checked the menu at the famous Tug restaurant but it looked a bit run down and overpriced so I decided to go to 22o South, a new restaurant in the bright and cheerful red and white lighthouse that stood proudly, like an oversized pepperpot, a sentinel looking out to sea.
I chose hake, vegetables and new potatoes, a lime soda followed by ice cream and coffee. The food was excellent and the service impeccable. By the time I had drained the last few drops from my cup, the fog had dissipated and the sun had come out. And like any mad dog and Englishman, I strode out into the midday sun and plonked myself down on the beach in a sun trap and began reading the novel “What I loved” by Siri Hustvedt that I had bought earlier at Die Muschel bookshop and art gallery. I continued reading and soaked up the sun’s rays, lifting my head up now and again to watch the waves crashing onto the beach and children playing on the sand and a few brave souls who paddled out to sea.
The water looked too
cold for me and the current too fierce. Signs on the beach indicated ‘swim at
your own risk’. Later on I wandered idly along the strand in the other
direction, took more photos and then returned as the temperature cooled. I
stopped off at the Strand café for a warming pot of Five Roses tea and watched the
sun sink down behind the Mole.
When it was too cold to sit there any longer I slowly strolled back up town and popped into the 3 NAMigos Mexican restaurant for a burrito before going to bed. Although I woke up early, or so I thought, the hostel was busy and I thought this was strange so early on a Sunday morning. I checked the time with the receptionist and discovered to my horror that the clocks had gone forward in the night by one hour and I had just 10 minutes to grab my bags and sprint across town to catch the bus back to Windhoek! Thankfully I made it in the nick of time. The journey back was smooth and Townhoppers dropped me home by lunchtime. I popped down to Checkers to stock up on food and then sat outside in the sun for a while in the garden.
I decided it would be a good idea to do a photo essay. So off I trotted down to the lighthouse, as if I had stepped into a Virginia Woolf novel…, and wandered up and down the sea strand, along the jetty, waves crashing underneath, around the Mole and back into town. I wended my way through the still fog-shrouded streets. I snapped away, framing seascapes, street scenes, the German colonial architecture and every now and then captured some colour e.g. brightly painted benches in primary colours and arty murals along walls. I stopped for a latte in the Garden Café which is tucked behind an art gallery and craft shop and sipped to warm up a bit. Afterwards I continued my walk up the seafront and bought a few postcards on the way. I soon worked up an appetite and checked the menu at the famous Tug restaurant but it looked a bit run down and overpriced so I decided to go to 22o South, a new restaurant in the bright and cheerful red and white lighthouse that stood proudly, like an oversized pepperpot, a sentinel looking out to sea.
I chose hake, vegetables and new potatoes, a lime soda followed by ice cream and coffee. The food was excellent and the service impeccable. By the time I had drained the last few drops from my cup, the fog had dissipated and the sun had come out. And like any mad dog and Englishman, I strode out into the midday sun and plonked myself down on the beach in a sun trap and began reading the novel “What I loved” by Siri Hustvedt that I had bought earlier at Die Muschel bookshop and art gallery. I continued reading and soaked up the sun’s rays, lifting my head up now and again to watch the waves crashing onto the beach and children playing on the sand and a few brave souls who paddled out to sea.
When it was too cold to sit there any longer I slowly strolled back up town and popped into the 3 NAMigos Mexican restaurant for a burrito before going to bed. Although I woke up early, or so I thought, the hostel was busy and I thought this was strange so early on a Sunday morning. I checked the time with the receptionist and discovered to my horror that the clocks had gone forward in the night by one hour and I had just 10 minutes to grab my bags and sprint across town to catch the bus back to Windhoek! Thankfully I made it in the nick of time. The journey back was smooth and Townhoppers dropped me home by lunchtime. I popped down to Checkers to stock up on food and then sat outside in the sun for a while in the garden.
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