Joe and I are in Lesotho. We had an exciting day yesterday — here are a few highlights.
The Drive
It was a five-hour drive from Joburg to Maseru. It was dry and beautiful with lots of cows, windmills, and crazy rock formations. It felt like the American Southwest. We stopped at two interesting places:
1) Makiti, a quirky rest stop/restaurant/lodge/gallery/shop off an exit ramp on the N3 highway, in the middle of South Africa’s Free State. It’s a red adobe dome with giant ant sculptures climbing up the roof and life-size ostrich statues in the yard. Joe says Makiti makes the best biltong in the country but they didn’t have any yesterday.
Ostriches.
2) Clarens, a resort town/artist colony on the border of South Africa and Lesotho. We stopped there at lunch time and went to a general store/coffee shop called the Purple Onion. We had coffee, rooibos tea, and something called a “koeksuster.” It’s a plaited piece of dough, shaped like a cruller, which is deep-fried in oil and plunged into an ice-cold sugary syrup. It’s an Afrikaans specialty – the owner of the Purple Onion used to make them in her grandmother’s kitchen. I estimate it contained 94 grams of fat.
Clarens.
Koeksuster.
The road.
The Border
Our border crossing was comical and took about an hour and a half. It involved snaking queues of cars, complicated customs declaration forms, overage charges because Joe’s Landrover was too heavy, and a single, kindly, but tortoise-paced immigration agent on the Lesotho side who took his sweet time processing the passports of a long and unruly line of people.
Maseru
Maseru is the capital of Lesotho. The people of Lesotho are called the Basotho. At the center of town is the Basotho Hat – a thatched-roof building shaped like the conical hats that Basotho people wear. When we got to Maseru we drove straight to the hat because it’s right next door to the Elizabeth Glaser Pediatric AIDS Foundation, where we had a meeting. I used to work for EGPAF in Washington and Joe and I are doing a project with them here.
The hat.
Inside the hat is an Indian restaurant called The Regal. We were told that it’s the best restaurant in Meseru so we went there for dinner. I had butter chicken and Joe had a lamb dish (can’t remember what it was). Both were very good. They had a decent wine selection and the naan was fluffy and delicious. We sat on the hat balcony and looked over the city while we ate.
Indian food from The Regal.
The Queen’s Protea
The Queen’s Protea is the hotel where we stayed. We wanted to stay someplace different than the Maseru Sun downtown, which is where everyone normally stays here. The Queen’s Protea is at the top of a hill, at the end of a potholed road. It’s affordable at R600 a night. We walked into the small lobby and met Pumla, the receptionist. Pumla remembered Joe from their phone call a few days ago. “I gave you the BEST room!” announced Pumla, grinning from ear to ear. (Joe has this effect on people. I’m not sure why.)
Our room was indeed spectacular. Huge, with sleek furniture, a luxurious bathroom, and a fantastic king-size bed with high thread-count sheets. It’s the nicest African hotel room I’ve ever stayed in.
Room.
Unfortunately I wouldn’t recommend you stay there unless you can tolerate bright lights shining into your window all night and thin walls that magnify every sound outside the room. There was a busload of young, noisy Namibian teachers staying there last night. We didn’t sleep much.
We’re on our way to the Mokhotlong District, a remote area of Lesotho where we’ll be working on a story about Basotho ponies. More on that later.
Hotel looks gorgeous. Can’t wait to see the pony photos!
Still loving the blog and lately have been really impressed by the photos (I’m not as artsy as you so my favorite was the little dog driving in the front seat of the car. :). I’m also loving the house number gallery. So fun that a small thing like that could be so interesting. My favorite line you wrote was “parsley, thyme. Rosemary not pictured.” lol – so clever! We miss you around here tho your cube is still called “Heather’s cube” so its like you never left. and I can’t eat a piece of sangria fresca without thinking of you. :). Glad all is going so well! Xo!
Mark, I chewed my last piece of sangria fresca while driving down a mountain pass in the remotest part of Lesotho. I told Leo the story about how I got it and he was quite fascinated. Unfortunately I couldn’t share with him because I only had one piece left.
can i please get a quote for basotho hat and trouser, you can send it to this email:noltandotabata@gmail.com