Day 2: The whaling madness

Normally I am a friend of chronology and meticulous order - at least when it comes to storytelling (not so much when it comes to packing my luggage). But now it is absolutely necessary to describe the current moment in the present mood. This is now the 95th blog article I am writing in my life - but I can confidently say that I have never found such a place to write. I am sitting here, gazing into the Namibian desert, with only a few distant, scattered elevations, not to call them mountains, rising in the distance from the sandy landscape. Behind one of the rocky elevations, the setting sun is inexorably approaching the horizon. Nevertheless, the familiar yellow still provides comforting warmth. Only the wind tries to disturb the silence of nature and this wonderful sight. But the intruder does not reach me behind a rock. I am sitting on some of them right now. I estimate that I am now one hundred meters above the desert landscape. I have climbed one of the countless rock formations and feel like the king of the world. Or at least like the king of Africa - or the animals. If I had a baby lion, this would be the place to present it to my animal subjects ---- Naaaaasefeeenniiiaaa. Simply wonderful. I just forgot my beer when I spontaneously set off with flip flops and a laptop to climb my place to be.

But now back to the plane. When I wake up, I would like to dance for joy... but since space on the plane is limited, I settle for an impulsive butt wiggle. Nevertheless, I have just won a day - the sleep lottery struck and gave me a full day and unexpectedly a tired and overwhelmed first visit. Instead, I am wide awake all day and start the morning with a vital ham and cheese sandwich. Shortly afterwards, we land in Johannesburg in the morning. There is not much to tell about it, I shake hands with Nelson Mandela - and am totally thrilled by his motionlessness, even when visited by such a famous personality like me. Soon I find out that Nelosn is dead and I pass the time with a life-sized Lego figure.

British Airways takes us to Namibia shortly afterwards. We quickly realize that Africa is indeed Africa. Directly over the airport runway, we are led to the arrival hall by black guides packed in wool caps and gloves. Why am I emphasizing the black?. They are the first black people we see. There is not a single dark-skinned passenger on the plane to Namibia. The two-class society is already showing itself in alarming proportions. As is the temperature perception of my African friends. At the same time, I am wearing a T-shirt and sweating. The friendship is more of a one-sided perception - more hope. The Namibians, as far as my first impression shows, are not as open and hospitable as I thought. Maybe distance is their way of expressing stress. The security personnel should definitely be stressed. Waiting for our visa becomes a farce. Finally arrived - finally on Namibian ground - we have to wait another ninety minutes. However, time passes wonderfully quickly as Gudi and I wonder where the desperate, even pleading cries come from, which we attribute to a middle-aged woman. So the first impression of Namibia is rather disturbing. Our good mood is accordingly filled with increasing skepticism. Does this belong to an absurd initiation ritual? Do we have to go through this too?

Finally, everything goes very quickly. We are actually picked up by an employee of the car rental company. Two and a half hours of waiting are apparently not worth mentioning in Africa. The first impression of the roads is more than positive. Tarred, wide and straight road markings, which only occasionally disturb the passenger through elevations, traverse the endless country inhabited by various animals. I am minutely of the opinion that I can spot lions. With alarming consistency, however, I have to realize that the grass of the savannah is also brownish - yellow.

When we finally arrive at our nighttime sleeping quarters, we meet our Dutch friends Tessa and Robbert (no spelling mistake - not this time). The two warmly welcome us, but there is no time for further exchange. We quickly move on to the pick-up station for our vehicle.

At home, I call my small Skoda Fabia the white madness. This here turns out to be the white, whale-like madness. I don't mean the smell or buoyancy of our vehicle, but this car could eat mine three times. After a short introduction and watching a safety video, which once again brings Gudi to the brink of a nervous breakdown, we find ourselves in a tank-like monster. Huge, with five seats and a closed loading area, where my car could fit alone. It is possible to unfold two tents on the roof, in which I even have enough space. Just awesome.

The more I steer the monstrosity on the left side of the road, the more I realize that we are in a second Mallorca. Less due to drunken people or party miles. But otherwise, you can tell that the area was settled by Germans some time ago. The menu at dinner offers pancakes (Vienna style pancakes) as well as bratwurst or schnitzel. The beer, however, is excellent. The only problem is that I am so tired that I fall asleep after two of them - at 8:30 p.m. Two hours later, the drink wakes up and looks for an exit. I then look for the exit of the tent - and almost get out on the wrong, ladder-less side of our two-meter-high fortress. Luckily, even in sleep, Gudi is a command freak and tells me that I am close to breaking my neck.

Three minutes later and two liters lighter, I fall asleep again - for ten more hours. Well then, good night, I'm looking forward to more adventures.