The 31 Hour Train to Cape Town

We awoke to a cheery Chad and Michael knocking on our door.  “Hey, guys!   There’s steak and eggs for post-birthday breakfast!”  Awesome!  Hands down, best travel breakfast ever: homemade hash browns, cheddar cheese blocks, steak, eggs, and toast with jam.  We enjoyed breakfast together then loaded up our bags in the travel bus bound for the train station.  The train boarding experience somewhat resembled a Black Friday shopping experience.  The seats were first-come, first-serve, so we strategized and put the quick folks up in front and the big bag blockers in the back.  As the line opened to board, our group made a mad dash for a block of seats.  Sarah made us proud by hurling herself head-first over a block of 4 seats while the rest of us threw down our bags in clumps of two.  This block of seats would be ours for the next 31 hours.

As we settled in, I listened to the locals talking to each other.  I loved their accents, the way they said to each other, “How’sit?” (pronounced “howz-it”) and “Hey, mama” like the Michael Fronte song that I enjoy so much.  I realized what a luxury it was to navigate so easily with English.  Granted, we repeated ourselves a lot and asked people to repeat themselves frequently, but that was just because of our accents.  From the seats nearby, we met an inquisitive couple of boys, Mpho (7) and Thepelo (4), who were interested in our gadgets.  They were fascinated by Mark’s computer, my Kindle (which they thought was a Bible), and Justin’s ipod.  They entertained us until they got bored, then they got stir-crazy.  They started lifting Mark’s sleeve to check out his tattoo, tugging on Connor’s nipple ring, pushing buttons on Mark’s computer, and trying to grab at my Kindle.  Soon enough, they arrived in Kimberly (a town known for its mines) and exited with their dad and uncle who were very gracious with their well-wishes.  The kids cracked us up by giving high 5’s, pounders, and “blowing it up.”

We dined on fish and chips at the café and the server asked us why we weren’t sleeping in tourist class (presumably because we’re white tourists).  We lamented that tourist class was full, and she suggested that we speak with the conductor because it was in fact not full.  We upgraded without knowing the price.  A good night of sleep is priceless, right?  Chad, Michael, Mark and I were the only brave ones to chance the price.  Everyone else opted for overnight upright chairs for fear that the sleeper rate would be outrageous.  One conductor came in to quote us a price of 180 rand each ($27 US).  We asked him to see if he could find a better rate and come back in the morning.  He suggested a 5 am collection, and I countered at 8 am.  He never came back, so we slept comfortably on a free upgrade.  Mark and I took melatonin pills, so we didn’t notice when another friend from the group came in to join us.  Chad and Mike didn’t have earplugs, so they poked our friend every time he fired up with the snoring- maybe that’s why our friend wasn’t in the room when we woke up.

At 9 am, we were invited to breakfast in the dining cart with the tribal Chief of the Koisan people.  Mike, who met the Chief while drinking the night before, assured us that the chief was looking for publicity, not money.  We were skeptical, but curious.  The Chief turned out to be an overweight, white man with blue eyes and two tourist-looking necklaces.  Our skepticism increased.  We trudged through his documents and endured his stories about his people and their lawsuit against the government and their struggle to regain the mineral rights for the land.  After listening for about 10 minutes, Mark and I were pretty sure this was a long con.  The Chief was going to send us more information, and he hoped we would do some fundraiser for him.  Coincidently, Mike conversed with a local guy named Elvis a few hours later, and discovered that Elvis (the local) had in fact met the Chief and he was black.  Hoax confirmation received.

Other entertainment included booze and a train jumper.  The ride started off quiet, but by the end of the evening, several passengers were loaded and the volume got louder.  Men came through selling cold beer and hard liquor through the night and into the morning.  Our train was delayed when one beverage cart customer jumped from the train, landed on his feet, and fell over hard.  Other than that, the ride was filled with books and conversation.   I finished my first book of the trip, Oprah’s book club recommendation on Kindle, “The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake.”  It’s about a young girl who has a skill for tasting the cook’s emotions in her food.

Much of the ride resembled our portion of Colorado, high desert, but with ostriches and antelopes roaming throughout, but as we neared Cape Town, the landscape gradually changed.  The ride was supposed to take 27 hours, but there were many stops, and by hour 30, I was feeling stir-crazy.  We entertained ourselves as a group, telling jokes, and sweating from the increasing humidity.  When we arrived at hour 31, we could be heard shouting “Free at Last!”