April 20, 2007 - Crocodiles, Sharks, and Pirates...Oh my!

Writing this entry in retrospect, since I obviously didn’t take my computer with me, is something I’ve been dreading and looking forward to with equal abandon. Dreading because there’s so much that we did in one day that I will be typing forever, but looking forward to because there’s so much that we did in one day that I want to share with everyone. So with that opening remark, here for your viewing pleasure is the first of our three days in Durban.

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Awaking to the alarm beeping beside my head at 2 a.m., I reluctantly roll out of bed and begin my morning ablutions. Never having been a morning person, I am seeing this hour from the wrong side. Normally I’d be up until now and going to bed soon, instead of getting up now and not going to bed until God knows when. Finishing packing, I step out my door to note that I have the largest bag to take with. Feeling a bit self-concious (when did I become the girl who can’t go anywhere without her flat iron?) I comment on the fact, and while everyone assures me that there’s nothing wrong with that, it still doesn’t do much to assuage my inner turmoil.

Our rides arrive promptly at 3 a.m., Kenneth and Peter Broli, who with Zwia load us into two cars (there’s no way that the tiny things here could hold all of us and our luggage) and we’re off to Jo-burg to fly to Durban. Alissa and I are situated with Kenneth and while he keeps up the conversation, I’m just marveling at the fact that I’m actually up for a sunrise. Arriving at the airport we head for the domestic terminal of Mango Air. Although it was extremely generous of Kenneth and Peter to drive us to the airport, there’s some concern on my part though in the fact that we seemed to have breathed in petrol (gas) fumes the entire trip and I have the beginnings of a large headache. Confirming that it just wasn’t a figment of my imagination, Alissa stated that she experienced it too.

Checking in and awaiting our aircraft, I’m surprised at just how many people there are traveling from Jo-burg to Durban this early in the morning (5:45a flight), but Rebecca B. reminds me that they may be a lot of domestic business travelers who are commuting between the cities. Making our way onto the plane I’m reminded of a sardine can – our society complains about the tightness in coach seating often enough – but I can tell you that the compact nature of the Mango aircraft was something to behold. Having a middle seat, I barely fit from front to back as my knees were smack up against the seat in front of me. As I don’t consider myself extremely tall (5’8”) I can’t help but wonder what other individuals are dealing with. Luckily the flight isn’t completely full and I manage to switch to another row with a little more room. It’s only one hour in the air and we’re there.

Flying into Durban one is immediately struck by the differences between the provinces that contain Pretoria (more desert-like) and the one that contains Durban (more tropical). Lush vegetation is abundant here and is emerald green in comparison to the autumn-turning tans of Pretoria. There’s also a difference in the air. Durban being located on the coast, the Indian Ocean airs a heaviness of humidity to the air. Oh yeah, by the way, I said the INDIAN OCEAN! On this trip, not only will I have experienced my third continent, but my third ocean.

Making our way to the Budget car rental area, we await our Toyota Corolla which is our run-around vehicle for the time we’re in the city. It having apparently rained earlier in the morning all of the vehicles have their windshield wipers up as the attendants wipe down the exteriors to a polished shine. Rebecca H. and Zwia come out with the keys to our royal blue Corolla. As we’re loading ourselves in I notice that we’re missing a windshield wiper, more specifically the driver’s side wiper, which if we run into bad weather isn’t something we’d want to be without. After the attendant adds the new wiper, we’re off.

Having learned that we’re not able to check into our hotel until 2p and it’s not even 7:30a, we’ve got a lot of time to kill. As we head north to Durban’s center from the airport, we again marvel at how green everything is. Flying in gave us a glimpse of the coastline but driving gives us an even better view. Cruising down the road, we come across an overturned semi for the opposite side. It’s flipped itself is such a way that it lies across all three lanes of traffic causing vehicles to back up for what seems to be ever.

Uncertain of what our destination is to be for the mornings entertainment we pull off the freeway to try and find an information office to get more…well…information. After locating a sign for a tourist office, we then proceed to not be able to find the darned thing. Going back-n-forth through the area several times whilst getting caught up in traffic being re-routed around the accident, we found that we had spent over an hour in the vehicle going absolutely nowhere.

With a final decision suggested by Alissa, we veer the car northward again and head towards Crocworld. Alissa’s ideas for things to do seem to be all animal-oriented: riding ostriches, swimming with sharks, viewing crocodiles. I’m more than happy to go along for the ride though as long as my one item of the vineyard is hit along the way.

With the sun shining brightly we are the first visitors to Crocworld on this warm Friday morning. In fact, we’re so early that the poor cleaning woman hasn’t had a chance to finish sweeping yet! Purchasing our tickets in the curio shop, I ever so briefly consider if I should select a crocodile head as an item for my home décor. Deciding against it because of the high creepy factor, we start out the door and into the croc park. Our entrance is paused for a moment as a male peacock is strutting his stuff right in our way.

Finally walking through, we’re greeted with the sight of multiple crocs and croc types in fenced in areas. And when I mean multiple, I mean multiple. The park stretches over quite a bit of land and when you enter you’re only able to see 3 of several pens. In those three combined, I’m fairly certain that there were 75 to 100 crocodiles…all of whom hadn’t been fed since 3 p.m. the day before.

I’m not all into the whole reptile farm thing, but these are certainly curious creatures. They creep Rebecca B. out a bit because of the slithery feature of their nature, but she manages well. As it’s moving towards winter here in South Africa, the crocs are headed into a more dormant activity period in their penned in lives. So while they’re not moving around a lot, they do keep an eye on those things around them. Ever been followed by a crocodile’s eyes? Not exactly the most welcoming feeling.

Our trip around the park lets us see different varieties of crocodiles from the cuter dwarf crocs to the most deadly variety of those from the Nile. These, apparently, are the ones who take more human lives than all of the other types put together. Reading the boards scattered throughout the park that reveal facts about its residents, I learn that a crocodile doesn’t have sex chromosomes. There’s no X or Y to speak of, and what actually determines the sex of a crocodile is the temperature of the heat during the egg incubation period. See, you can learn something new each day!

Making our way around, it’s become extremely humid, and I’m losing my eagerness to be here. Not being a fan of the humidity due to the fact I get heat exhaustion easily and end up fainting, I slow my pace behind the group. After we’ve made the first rounds, we’ve ended up back at the beginning just in time for the feedings at 11a. An employee with a wheelbarrow full of red raw meat stands just outside the fence. Speaking of fencing, we’re not quite sure how sturdy these things are if a croc were to actually charge at it. The fencing is similar to the type you’d put up in your backyard, so your guess is as good as mine as to it’s capability to keep giant reptiles in check.

Back to the feeding. Just on the other side of the fence a 15 foot crocodile has it’s nose pressed against the links as if he could inhale the meat with just one sniff. His teeth gleam an ivory white in the sunlight as he eagerly awaits his afternoon meal. Surrounding him are approximately 20 or so other crocodiles of various sizes piling one on top of the other, wrestling for the best spot at the table. Figuring that the crowd of people and crocodiles has waited long enough, the employee begins to toss chucks of meat into the pen. The percussive “thwump” of many jaws takes place as each animal tries its best to gain its gastronomical reward. Tossing meat in alternate directions enables the employee to try and reach numerous crocs so that one single creature doesn’t monopolize the whole thing.

Another small fact we learned was that crocs, while being able to catch larger animals once they reach a certain length, aren’t exactly the biggest eaters. While they may catch something large, their trick is to drag it away and hide it so that they can pull the meat from the bones of the carcass as it rots. Thus sustaining themselves for several meals with only one kill. (My apologies to those who are reading this while eating…sorry if I spoiled your appetite.)

After the feeding a guide showed us some of the areas we weren’t allowed into without one. Taking us back further into the park, we were able to overlook the smaller pens where crocs are bred, specifically for their hides. As we passed a smaller building, there were other employees actually stripping the skin from one of the reptiles.

Besides the five of us, there’s a small family on the tour with us, with two little boys and an even littler girl. I’ve noticed that South African parenting is much more relaxed than the US. Children are allowed to wander further and are more free wheeling than those back home. During our short hike the two boys fell a bit behind and I could hear their calls of “ouch” and “ouch!” As I glanced behind me, I saw that they were giving each other “snake bites” – that childhood game of grabbing a person’s arm and then twisting each hand an opposite way thus pinching the skin. Their engagement in the obligatory sibling annoyance of each other made me grin and think back to my own sibling rivalry days of yore (or maybe they're not quite of yore yet, recalling recent trips home).

Passing some smaller animals kept in the park, like meerkats, we arrived at Henry’s cage. Henry is the biggest croc on the Crocworld block, and was the partial star of Prime Evil. Being 2 meters (6 feet) round in the middle, his length was quite impressive. And though he looked harmless enough basking in the sunlight, I definitely wouldn’t want to meet him in any swamp.

Seeing as how we hadn’t eaten yet in the day, we opted for a brunch at the restaurant on site. Situated on a bluff overlooking the ocean, we were treated with sweeping vistas of an expansive blue sky, dancing waves, and the deep green of the palm trees and brush about us. In the distance you could see the storm making its way out to sea, and it had left in its wake a bi-colored ocean, deep blue where the floor dropped off but a murky tan where the shallow bottom sands had been stirred.

After lunch, we made our way into the heart of Durban in search of The Palace, which is where we were to be staying for the duration of our trip. Without comprehensive directions, we relied on the multitude of semi-helpful maps that would get us to the general location but didn’t contain the minute details we were looking for. After cruising up and down several blocks along the shoreline, we luckily found ourselves behind a police vehicle. Zwia flashed his lights at them and they pulled over. We Americans being uncertain of what he was doing were a bit startled that you could simply pull a cop car over. Turns out that Zwia pulled them over to ask for directions. The policeman was quite nice, joking that he could take us to The Palace as long as we didn’t give him a fine. With our official escort, we managed to find the place in no time.

Our attempt to check-in however was not as easy. Although our confirmation stated that we were booked in at The Palace, when the hostess at the desk went to verify the information, it was stated that we were actually to be in the Durban Sands. The Durban Sands had been the original choice for our venue but we had been told that they wouldn’t have room for us for both nights of our stay, hence the reason that we’d been put up in The Palace. Double-checking once more, the hostess stated that the printed reservation was wrong and that we did have two self-service apartments at the Durban Sands for both nights. So it was back to the car and back on the road for us.

Finally locating the Durban Sands, after a brief mistaken stop at the Silver Sands, we checked ourselves in and lugged our luggage up to the 9th floor (hmmm…is that where the term luggage comes from?). It was then that I discovered just how much that Alissa and Rebecca B. disliked heights. Our room having floor to ceiling glass windows and a balcony with a view that lasts forever didn’t give them the same sense of awe that I experienced. It being humid, I was ready to throw open the windows and let the breezes blow through, but being conscious of not wanting to make my roommates uncomfortable, we compromised. With no AC, I turned up the ceiling fan, we did throw open the windows and balcony door, but shut the shades to give the illusion that we weren’t up high.

Perusing the apartment, we found that there was a double bed and two large chairs with fold-out beds in them. Rebecca B. and I opted for the chairs, which left Alissa with the bed. With our keys we’d been given a checklist of items supposedly contained within our apartment to review. Playing the game of “Find That Thing”, I called off each item and Rebecca B. located them so that we could confirm or deny their existence. There were a few things on the list that we weren’t sure what they meant, though the names escape me now, but since we had items unaccounted for, we just checked them off anyway. Another discovery was the European shower in our bathroom; that being the handheld showerhead and no shower curtain. Having experienced these things in Europe we were at least familiar with how to operate them so as to not completely soak the entire bathroom. Something I learned quite quickly while abroad for the first time in Italy.

While we were checking things out and semi-settling in, Alissa made inquiries at uShaka Marine Park about the possibility of arranging an appointment to dive in the shark tank. Uncertain as we were to the popularity of this activity, we were pleasantly surprised when they had an opening for her later in the day at 4 p.m. She booked it and was all smiles.

Leaving perhaps a little later than we should have, we drove over to uShaka, which was only about 5-10 minutes away. A gigantic commercial area, uShaka not only has a Marine Park with daily animal shows, water slides, and aquarium, it also houses a plethora of shops and is smack-dab next to the ocean. In a bit of a hurry to make her appointment, we dashed to the Marine Park area and while Alissa went on he way to the meeting point, the rest of us made our way into the aquarium so that we could see her dive.

This aquarium, by the way, is quite possibly the coolest thing I’ve seen in a long time. Designed as a gigantic ocean liner shipwreck, you make your way down through the cargo hold and wander the “halls” of the interior which have surprisingly enough multiple tanks filled with all manner of fish and ocean life.

Locating the shark tank, we settled in for the activity. They’re really quite graceful animals. With a floor to ceiling pane of glass between us the glided around in circles next to some gigantic fish (which was larger than some of the sharks and whose name also escapes me). Some time later, the first individuals partaking of the shark diving experience entered the water in a clear container which was left open on the top. The trick was that you had to bob up and down for air, as all you were given was goggles for your eyes. Even though the lone tiger shark skimmed the surface the entire time, it’s dorsal fin cutting through the water in that telltale manner, there was no time at all that the open top could have been dangerous. The gentleman in charge stated that the sharks would be unable to jump so as long as everyone keep their arms in all would be well.

With her first shark diving experience over, Alissa really needed a change of clothing. We had thought that they would provide her with some sort of wetsuit and towels, as the gentleman in the brochure had, but to no avail. Armed with only her bathing suit and the clothes she arrived in, she had nothing to dry off with. Heading back to the shops we were she was fortunate enough to be able to pick out some new threads.

While making her decisions, discussion led to the inevitable conversation of where were we going to eat. Alissa and I had spotted a placard on the sidewalk whilst heading to the shopping area that had listed a pirate show taking place later that evening at the Top Deck restaurant on the wrecked cruise ship. Mentioning this, all agreed it sounded like a good idea but we needed to check it out. Arriving at the restaurant, we were initially turned away because they didn’t think they had enough room for us and we didn’t have reservations but as we were leaving, the “Captain” of the ship found us and said that they had made room for us.

The total experience was great. There was live music, a dancing Pirate (in a sort of mascot costume), other dancers, and regular pirates who juggled swords and swung these, I can only think to call them maces, that were lit on fire at the tips. A large buffet was available for us to pick from with a whole host of options from around the globe. As the day grew dim, the sky lit up with stars and a crescent moon so clear it seemed as if you could pluck it from the sky. We all had a wonderful time.

Our evenings revelries completely exhausting us, we finally paid the check and found our way back to the hotel. After a very long day, we opted to not get up early for the game park drive the next morning as we would have been too tired to enjoy it, and crawled ourselves into our respective beds to dream of crocodiles, pirates, and sharks…oh my!