is south africa safe for tourists?

I have a history of not doing what I'm doing what I'm told. My 5th grade gymnastics coach warned me, "Don't tumble onto the floor mats before practice!" and I cartwheeled into class anyway. My mom has said, "Shhhhh" every five seconds from ages 0-27, and I've never once shut my trap. At 14, my girlfriends hesitantly cautioned me, "Maybe it's not a great idea to meet a guy off the internet?" and so I met two of them and thankfully lived to tell this tale because the internet was a scary place in 1999?

And when I studied abroad in South Africa, my program coordinators, school officials, and every certifiable adult on campus told me sternly, DO NOT RIDE THE TRAINS. 

Well, that was the wrong thing to say. Why not? Why couldn't I ride the trains? They're the cheapest mode of transportation. I wasn't going to rent a car every weekend to go to Cape Town. SO I RODE THE TRAINS. And I lived to tell the tale because maybe South Africa isn't as dangerous as the ubiquitous "they" wanted me to believe, or maybe I was just lucky. Which is it? Is South Africa dangerous for tourists? 

I might have listened if they'd said, "Don't pet the cheetah." Might.

"Crime is high, but the reputation for crime is much higher"

(quoted from CS Monitor) 

More often than not, South Africa is labeled as a murder, assault, and rape hub, and there are two major problems with that generalization: context and modern efforts to curb violence.

South Africa rightfully gained the reputation for being a violent, crime-ridden nation during its tumultuous transition to democracy. Apartheid heavily divided the country in ways too numerous and deep for me to even attempt to explore in one blog post (or a dozen). During that time - the 1980s-90s, crime rates spiked, just as they did during the American Civil War or any armed domestic dispute a nation has ever faced; in some ways, violence paved the way to overthrowing apartheid.

But that has changed. In the last decade, in particular, South Africa has worked to clean up its act. The country ranks below 10 other nations in murders and continues to fall down the list. Guatemala, a burgeoning budget travel destination, ranks above South Africa (sorry for throwing you under the bus, G!).

I'm not offering South Africa a get out of jail free card, though. The country still leads the world in rapes. Shockingly, 1 in 3 South African men admit to having raped at least one woman in their lifetime, and 1 in 4 speak out as a rape victim.

Part of the reason crime has and still is prevalent is due to a history of violence and economic disparity. South Africa is only 20% white, but it has faced white control and domination throughout most of its history. Rebellions and fighting to keep control of land and autonomy have contributed to a national mindset of fighting for survival.

Economically, the 20% white minority rules the country. Townships have developed outside of small AND big "white" cities where the poor, typically black or colored, South Africans live. Resentment and a growing desire for less income disparity between the rich and poor fuels friction within the country.

the scariest thing I saw in South Africa

None of this means that South Africa is too dangerous for tourists. 

South Africa has its problems like any other country in the world. That doesn't mean that you shouldn't visit it. I was told not to ride the trains because I could be pick-pocketed, mugged, or worse. I couldn't and wouldn't live in a bubble of fear, and neither should you. I never once feared for my safety in South Africa, and I traveled from the wealthy town of Stellenbosch to beautiful Cape Town through townships to the poorer KwaZulu-Natal coast into Durban and Kruger National Park and in Johannesburg. I traveled as part of groups and independently, and (always) as a woman.

I spent six months in South Africa, and it wasn't enough time. It's my favorite country in the world. While I can't tell you that your safety is guaranteed there, I can't say that about any country. Even in statistically safe Japan, people have their panties stolen.  

South Africa takes my breath away

Here are a few things I keep in mind no matter where I'm traveling: 

• Stay alert - Take in the sights, journal, explore, take pictures - but keep in mind your surroundings and what's going on around you. 
• Don't flaunt expensive items - put your iPod, iPad, iPhone, wallet, etc. away. Travel like a local - if those who live in the area you're traveling probably don't have those things, then don't advertise that you do. It's safe but also polite. 
• Travel in a group where possible - The best thing about traveling independently is that you're never alone - spend the day with other backpackers and travelers if you question the safety of where you're headed.
• Ride first class - We're not talking Europe or around-the-world flights here; if you're traveling in a developing country, especially independently, consider buying a first-class train or bus ticket. You may feel safer, and the cost difference is usually nominal. 

What travel smartly tips would you add to this list? 

a reason to book a ticket and fly

I flew to the unlikeliest of places this weekend: Kansas City, Missouri. It may not sound exotic, but oh, it felt like it was. I climbed a mountain range of clouds and explored fairy tale towers at the top. I danced in cotton ball tendrils colored peach, orange, sultry pink and purple. I dove into valleys, triangles of puffy wisps reshaping themselves in the depths. Warm shades of deepening blue enveloped me. I dipped into great fog, so dense it obscured my vision. And when the air lifted, I peeked down to see the sprawling expanse of a flat city. I watched lights flicker on - a few here, a few more there, until the whole grid shone brighter than the fading sunlight. And with a final descent, I landed at nightfall.

My head is stuck in the clouds on this Monday morning. I'm reminiscing a long weekend with college friends in the Midwest. I'm looking forward to a short work week and a long 4th of July weekend at the beach. I'm just a little groggy, feeling like I might give into a latte soon. And I'm thinking that seeing a sunset above the clouds is as good a reason as any to book a ticket and fly to anywhere.

I've launched a travel, hike, eat. repeat facebook page! I hope you'll join me there and share your photos, travel stories, and more with me, too!

"Like" facebook.com/travelhikeeatrepeat

travel tuesday | a scene at a train station in japan

As a travel blogger it gets easy to rely on posts that provide itineraries, guides, tips, and "5 things..." about such and such. I like that format. I find it useful when I read blogs, and I aim to use my own blog to help others travel smartly, on a budget, and see and do the things that match their unique interests and talents. But from time to time, I try to remind myself that the reason I started this blog, have written a journal or even jotted words down on a napkin to capture a moment, and sought to publish occasional works, is because I love to write. Words on paper is the lens through which I see the world. So from time to time I want to get back to my roots and share some more journal-style entries, creative nonfiction, and even bits of pieces that never quite got there and found their way into a full essay.

Today's post is a slightly edited journal entry description of my experience waiting for a train on a rainy afternoon in a small southern town in Japan. Train stations became characters in my story and life in Japan. I do hope you enjoy it.  

March 2010, Tabuse Town, Japan 

 

It's raining on the train tracks. It's raining elsewhere - like on the stocky, gray-haired man who stepped out from under the awning to stomp out his cigarette butt. It's raining elsewhere, but in my line of sight - it's mostly just raining on the train tracks.

Five or six school boys sit on the weathered wooden seats to my right. Each holds a Nintendo DS and skillfully mashes every key at once. The boys rib one another all the while without looking up from their games - laughing at one comment and making a quick retort at the next. Maybe media doesn’t diminish human interactions; it just makes us all better multitaskers.

The contrast between the modernity of the technology and age of the tracks and the scene catches my attention, and holds my stereotypes of a sleepy, ancient Japanese town hostage. There’s room enough at this train station and in the mountains, rice fields, temples, and shrines around it to hold the old and new, to tell the stories of the past and create ones in the present.

The boys sport navy blue school uniforms. The tracks are dull brown, the pavement gray and the sound of the rain decidedly ash, if I had to say. It feels like it should be a lonely scene - a depressing day in a run-down, rural town - but it's not. It's simple. Sometimes it's not even simple really - in 20 minutes you can wait for a train for days.

Three high school girls walk into my line of sights on the platform, also to my right but not close enough to the boys or me to hear them speak. This is intentional, I gather, as they steal glances at the boys and giggle and animatedly lean in, whispering. Their umbrellas are pink, blue and orange. Combined with their yellow, blue, and red cell phones, they make up a complete rainbow.

Everyone's waiting, and we're all waiting in our own way. Some, like the girls and boys, with their phones and games to distract the time away, while the stocky man loses himself in his own thoughts or maybe the tranquil sound of the raindrops on the iron rails.

I'm waiting, too, with my pen and my journal, and my eyes alert. I shiver from the cold.

This is Tabuse Town, shadowed by the mountains in southern Japan - where today, it's raining on the train tracks.

riding in tubes with boys

I broke my arm when I was eight years old. I'm not sure that breaking a bone should ever be grounds for favored memory status, but somehow the time I did it makes the cut for me. Looking back, it seems like breaking a bone is a rite of kid's passage and a mark of a childhood well done. I didn't break it any old way, either. I broke it roller skating down a hill in my neighborhood. If I went back today, I might giggle at that hill's size, but at age eight, I might as well have been a mountaineer. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it!

My cousin Dee lived with us at the time. She moved up from Florida for college, and I got a built in roommate and sister in one. With a 10+ year age gap, she covered her side of our room in posters of movie stars and singers, and I still watched Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen movies (do you remember their mystery series? I. was. obsessed.) One afternoon, her best girlfriend came over, and they went for a walk to gossip talk. I begged to tag along. I had my roller skates on and laced, and I'd never skated around the whole neighborhood before. Dee relented but made me promise to stay behind them. They had boys to discuss, after all.

I practiced all my moves on that epic roller skating journey. I crouched low and rolled with my arms overhead, I skated on one foot and then the other, and I did that ultimate cool skating move where you cross one foot over the other on a turn. That one took me for. ever. to learn. You guys, I think I was wearing this red t-shirt with rainbow colored ribbons glued on to it. I was hands down the coolest.

My ego grew with every smooth move on my skates. And with that bomb t-shirt on, I got smug. I was invincible! So when we reached the neighborhood mountain, the behemoth stared me down and taunted me. I knew the best thing to do would be to take off my skates and walk down the hill. We were almost home. This was the last, final, terrible hurdle. Dee turned around, nearly at the bottom of the hill and shouted up, asking if I was okay, and shouldn't I walk down?

Walking is not as cool as roller skating, and I think I wanted to show off for Dee and her friend, too. So I got low and started rolling straight down that thing, at least 300 feet straight down, I'm telling you. I picked up speed, faster than I anticipated, more than I could handle, and I skated straight into... a mailbox.

I took out that mailbox. I hit it with so much force that it flew straight up out of the ground and across the yard, and I stared at it, wondering, How'd that get over there? And I didn't hear myself wailing for a moment or two over the sound of Dee and her friend screaming. They carried me home crying (them or me? really, it was about the same!). I broke my left arm so badly it had to be set, and have you ever had that done? It's pretty horrible. I'll just leave it at that.

The day after the doc put my bones back in place more or less and fitted my arm with a cast so big I think Homer could have signed it with The Iliad, we left for North Carolina for a camping and tubing trip with a big group of family friends.

I had been more excited about this tubing and camping trip than a new MK & A mystery VHS (this post is very embarrassing). It was my first time going tubing, and I was so excited and so adamant about not missing out, despite that pesky rule about not getting your cast wet that all the adults convened to discuss options and came up with this plan: tying a black trash bag around my arm and having me hold it in the air all the way down the river. (This was 1993 or so, has that casts can't get wet thing changed?)

I loved every single second. That is... besides vomiting my way up the windy mountain roads, taking out at least 3 branches with my nearly titanium arm, providing a wind rustling bag soundtrack the whole way down (I should've been famous with that bit), and learning to swim one-handed every time I flipped. Okay, I kind of loved those things, too. (Well, vomiting aside. I still get motion sick on mountains. And sea sick surfing. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!)

When the story of the time I broke my arm roller skating down Newnan, Georgia's Mt. McKinley, taking out a mailbox, puking the whole way up a mountain, and tubing down a white water river with one-arm in the air covered by a trash bag comes up at family dinners, we all lose ourselves in fits of laughter. And every single time, Dee stops laughing first and looks serious and says, "I still feel so bad." And we all crack up again.

I was so happy when I got that bulky cast off, but I learned a few things from the experience:

The weird, bizarre, and painful situations often make the best memories if you make the best out of them.

I would never be a professional roller skater, if that's even a thing, and I should never dress myself.

Books are a safer bet for me... but I'll always be a little bit of an adventure-seeking daredevil.
 
I love tubing.

  

if you go...

river riders harpers ferry (there are many outfitters, but this is what we used)

read about historical harpers ferry, west virginia

white water or flat water tubing trip

cost: $34/person with tax for a tube & rides to and from the river

remember to bring: water shoes, sunscreen, canned drinks, a waterproof camera, picnic lunch

tip: when you exit the water (with river riders), take the short trail on your right to a beautiful waterfall

friday photo | trekking on the great wall

I think back, and I wonder what Callie said to me that day, her arms outstretched, our conversation animated. That day felt bigger than life, impossibly real, we're really here, surreal. To walk and talk on the Great Wall with a girlfriend, that is one of the best days I've ever had.

other things by me in other places... 

summer concerts at wolf trap national park for the performing arts

biking, hiking, and running along the c&o canal

tokyo summer festivals

visiting japan in summer

hiking overall run falls in shenandoah national park

Within the first mile, the rain came. It dripped on us slowly and steadily as we checked our steps on the open trail. A few hundred yards ahead, panting from the gradual incline, we entered a tree cover. The forest spread out around and over us. The trail rested damp and soft beneath us, pulling our shoes in and resisting our steps up. I heard the rain, soft and whispering, landing gently on leaves and rolling down their crooked edges before landing on my hair, my shoulders, my shoes. I tilted my face toward the branches above, spotting only slivers of the sky far beyond. I stuck my tongue out like a kid in a snow storm, and watched the trajectory of a raindrop before it landed squarely in my mouth. Theo shook himself off, stuck his tongue out, too, and ran again ahead of us, looking back only as if to say, "Aren't you coming, Mom?"

Overall Run Falls holds the title of the tallest waterfall in Shenandoah National Park. Like the majority of Shenandoah's waterfalls, you reach it by hiking down. Depending on where you start, the trail clocks in between 4.8 - 6.5 miles roundtrip. It can be done as an out and back or a loop hike. I always prefer loops so that's the option we chose. The first several miles vacillate between gradual decline and steep decline, with the final .5 mile to the falls themselves being a series of rock stairs and very steep decline. Zander and I joked, well, this'll be fun to climb back up. But really - it kind of was. That's twisted, right?

What started out as a planned 6.5 mile hike turned into an a nearly 8.5 mile hike. We went the wrong way and ended up here in Fern Gully. All in all, it was a pretty detour.

Zander recently saved a baby bird in my backyard. In the middle of an intense game of fetch with Theo, he yelled out to me inside, asking me to quickly bring him gloves. I tossed him a pair, scared he found a dead... or alive snake (it's always snakes with me). I watched him sprint to the edge of the yard, gently reach down and ever so carefully lift something up. He stood listening for several moments, his head cocking from side to side. A cacophony of chirps hit my ears at the same time they did his. The birds grew increasingly louder until Zan figured out from which direction they came. He walked that way and set the baby bird in his gloved palms on the grass above the rock wall at the edge of the yard.

He saved another baby bird on our hike. This time he spotted it on the trail and asked me to move Theo out of the way. His sniffing scared the poor thing. Zan put the little guy in the palm of his hand and waited again to hear his parents cry out. I hope they both made it home safe. And this tangential story is just one of the billion reasons I love that man.

We backtracked a mile and found the correct turnoff for Overall Run Falls. Within that mile, the indecisive skies finally chose sunshine, and the temperature rose 10 degrees in the next hour. The sun shone, light filtered through the trees, and by the time we reached the falls, we wished we could swim in them.

After 2+ miles hiking down and crossing a few streams, we arrived at the lower falls. There are two waterfalls on the Overall Run Falls trail - the lower and upper. When you near the falls, a trail sign point you in the right direction. At that point, the lower falls is within .2-.3 miles. Hike down another .2-.3 to see the Overall Run.

 

I handed Theo's leash and my water bottle to Zander and walked toward the rock cliff at Overall Run Falls. At the edge, I folded down until I was on all fours. Finding natural handholds, and gauging the distance from the cliff edge to the rock platform immediately underneath, I slowly descended. It was only a span of 10 feet, at most, but it felt like 40 in that moment. A small rush of adrenaline ran through me. Maybe this is a hint of what it's like to rock climb. I squatted down on the ledge, shrubbery poking at my biceps and thighs and took picture and after picture, trying to capture the falls and the mountains beyond. I thought briefly about jumping - the pool beneath the falls was right there! I could see it! Beneath 100 feet of rocks! I climbed back up, Zan let out a deep breath, Theo licked me hello, and we unpacked our picnic lunch, eating with a view.

Trail directions and tips 
 
PARK: Matthew's Arm Campground - the overflow lot

TRAIL DIRECTIONS: Take the blue-blazed Traces Trailhead in the overflow parking lot for .6 miles to the Tuscarora-Overall Run trail intersection. Make a left on this trail. (We made a right, and that will take you to Hogback Overlook - you can also start your hike here, if you prefer. It's at mile marker 21.1.) Until this point, the hike is wooded, and dense with a gradual incline. The falls are 2.8 miles away once you veer onto Tuscarora-Overall Run trail. You begin to descend into the valley at this point. At 1.1 miles, you'll come to another trail intersection for Matthews Arms. Continue straight/right to reach the falls. At 2.7 miles, you'll reach another intersection - again, continue straight. The falls are .5 miles at this point. The trail veers steeply downhill; there are wooden steps for a section. At .2 miles on the left is the lower falls. Continue another .2-.3 miles down to see the large falls on your left.

Hike back up the way you came. After you ascend the .5 miles back up and reach the trail intersection, head right toward Matthew's Arm. At the second intersection in another 2 miles, head left for Matthew's Arm. Before the second intersection is a fast-moving stream and small falls (when there's water). Turn right at the final intersection back onto Traces Trail and retrace your steps .6 mile to the parking lot.

TIPS: The falls are best after a heavy rain or in the spring. In the summer months, the falls run dry. The view is spectacular year round. Winter months, when the water has frozen, is also a good time to see the falls.

RATING: We loved the falls and the view, and the woods were pretty for a while. I'm glad we hiked it and saw the tallest falls, but I'm not gunning to do it again. I give it a 6 out of 10. 

A LONGER VERSION: Combining Overall Run with Beecher Ridge from Hiking Upward

And now... more pictures.

cooling off at glen manor vineyards

 

We passed the entrance the first time. The winding road led us around another bend before we found a turnoff to head back the way we came. Only one car drove behind us, and we hadn't seen another one in a few miles. The Blue Ridge Mountains rose and fell in the near distance, and the sun blazed in all its mid-afternoon glory. 

This time through the small town of Front Royal, we spotted the sign, and turned onto the gravel driveway. I noticed an advisory posted at the entrance prohibits buses and groups larger than six. As the SUV bumped along, I pulled hand wipes out of my bag and scrubbed my face, my arms, and my neck. Zander came to a stop in front of a remodeled, small modern wooden lodge. 

I reached for baby wipes in my bag, and scrubbed my face, neck, and arms. As I stepped out of the car, I stopped to kick mud off the bottoms of my shoes as best I could. 

"We look okay to be at a winery, right?" I asked. 

 

The staff at Glen Manor Vineyards didn't mind our trail clothes or sweaty faces. They welcomed us in and asked us where we'd been hiking. We talked shop about our favorite trails in Shenandoah, and they sold us on a few nearby with deep swimming holes. Then we got down to wine tasting business.  

Named for the "glen," or sloping mountain foothills in which the vineyard sits, the small winery grows a handful of grape varietals on site. The weather and harvest determines the wines they make and sell each season. It's a small, family-owned and run winery that rarely carries more than four wines at any given time. 

On our visit a few weeks ago, the tasting menu included four vintages: 2012 Rose, 2011 Cabernet Franc, 2011 Vin Rouge, and the 2012 Petit Manseng. Missing from the list is Glen Manor's most popular wine, their Sauvignon Blanc. The owners explained that last season was abnormally dry, negatively impacting the grapes. They do hope to release a limited number of bottles later in the season. 

We enjoyed each of the four wines. In particular, I liked the careful, thoughtful descriptions of the wines themselves. As someone still relatively new to wine tasting and developing my palate and vernacular, a detailed description helps guide me through the tasting. When I diverge from their description, that's okay, too, but I appreciate the nudge in the right direction.

The Rose is a balance of light and refreshing with a medium-weight, long finish. The Petit Manseng surprised us the most. It smells of tropical fruit - pineapple, guava, and mango - and though it has a sweetness throughout, it's crisp enough to warrant being labeled off-dry. While it's still too sweet for me to drink regularly, it pairs perfectly with a hot summer day after a long hike. 

We ordered a glass each and purchased a bottle of all four wines we tasted. We made ourselves at home on their patio to enjoy the fruits of our labor. I could sit all day in a setting like that, looking out over vines and mountains, sipping on a glass of cold, crisp wine. Couldn't you? 

The winery itself is sparse but beautiful. Come for the wines and stay for the company, scenery, and staff. 

if you go...

Glen Manor Winery Fort Royal, Virginia

No food for purchase, but picnics are encouraged

Fido (cough, Theo!) is allowed but must be leashed

wine info and vintages

Tasting fee: $7