So, let’s just start with explaining that (1) it was great and (2) I further developed my new system of touristic photography; quality instead of quantity, folks. Meaning I’ll try to stick to good photos, especially for the blog, instead of pictures of everything we did. Normally that would include photos of our tents, our faces, our suitcases, our faces in front of some stupid thing whose name we don’t remember, our food (I did take some foodporn pics, though), our faces sporting tanlines and so on.
What I am trying to do with all my Namibia photo series, heck, with all my posts, is to show off some good photography and not to tell you how amazingly good oryx tastes and how much you all have to try if you ever go to Africa, please, guys, it’s sooo good. Hm, no, I will tell you that but I won’t show you a photo. Google is your friend. Deal?
I am trying to do this as chronological as possible without being boring. I might mess it up just a little bit.
Basically, we took the plane from Frankfurt to Windhoek on April 3rd. We spent a day in the Namibian capitol looking at fascist temples and animals and stuff. The temple I mean is a sight called Heroes’ Acre and was built as a memorial and graveyard for the (black) people killed during Namibia’s attempts to attain liberty in the 80s. Namibia was a German colony from 1880 until after WW1 when the Kaiserreich had messed up and was in the process of dragging Europe into bloody WW2 supported by revengeful France (haters gonna hate). From then until 1990 Namibia was under South African rule which for the most time meant British rule.
So, Namibia is the itty-bitty chick under all the countries and therefore has no constraints to build a monument strongly resembling fascist buildings from some nice German and Italian dictators.
The German influence is still omnipresent. In Swakopmund (Mündung des Swakops = mouth of the river Swakop) we could have got through without any English or Afrikaans. In the supermarkets they sell Mecklenburger Rollmops and generally more German food than they do in Switzerland. There are Kaiser Willhelm pharmacies, and every other street is called Bismarckstrasse or Goethestrasse or Merkelstrasse.
No, I am kidding. There is no Merkelstrasse. Yet.
We went to a crafts market on the second day. I bought some salad servers for dem parents and admired the art produced. (They didn’t actually make it at the market. It had been transported there from somewhere else. Hopefully not China.)
Africa is warm. Dusty. Unorganized. Colorful. Stereotypical and surprising.
I have a ton of pics for you all. I will try my best to upload some until I get bored by them. Then I’ll post some other stuff in-between. I am happy and sad to be back. 9.5 more weeks to go and I am a senior (arg).
Thanks for reading.