Life as usual.
Cows roam on the beach soaking up the sun.
Roads become manageable then rains wash away the manageability.
Houses fall down, get rebuilt - eventually.
Tick.
Tock.
Life moves fantastically slowly here, much like our running pace.
As we chug up the first hill from the most glorious of places along the Wild Coast the fresh sea breeze blows up off the dramatic towering cliffs cascading into the ocean. Minding your step on the loose footing and dodging puddles of mud we make slow but steady progress up the steep hills and rocky stretches.
Invigorated by the simplicity of everything around us, quiet takes control, apart from the occasional gawk at the next viewpoint. Kids playing soccer, dancing or just quietly watching as you run by, form the only visible urgency.
TIA. This is Africa...
Shoes off and across the lagoon and onto the beach for a short stint, weaving through the cows sunning themselves on the beach (without a coherent reason to do so, except to watch the waves - perhaps commented to themselves on the killer right-break in a series of low hushed moo's)
Rewind <<
Back past the cows, up the hill, past the kids playing, through the mud, past friends arriving for a wedding in the very bay the next day (small world...), past the broken huts, wandering goats and heavy scent of dagga.
Back to our starting point and feeling the binge of the alcoholic beverages the night before slowly start to radiate outward.
Phew. Relaxed.
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