I had intended to allow myself just the Sunday to explore Windhoek before heading on southwards the following morning. However my best laid plans were brought to an abrupt halt when Mount Vesuvius started to erupt once more in my tummy. I’m not sure where it came from, because I just had a plain steak for dinner the night before, but it sure left me flattened.
I certainly won’t go into graphic detail but suffice to say, that Sunday night was the worst I’ve had in a very long time. So Monday was limited to bed and lot’s of water, although I did drag myself out for some fresh air in the afternoon and popped into a local barbers for a haircut.
Before taking ill on the Sunday I did manage to see a fair bit, but to be honest, there is not an awful lot to see in Windhoek.
There are few tourist sights and plenty of German style churches. Given the tiny population, particularly of church going white “Germans” (as they are known here), one wonders if they ever get used.
This peculiar city has a reasonable sprinkling of quite impressive modern buildings but somehow or another, the whole mishmash doesn’t seem to gel. There isn’t much sense of a city centre and the place felt like some sort of computer generated SIM City.
There are several monuments championing the breaking free from German occupation but yet being German is how many white Namibians still define themselves.
On the other hand there is plenty of colour in local traditional dress and these three were certainly enjoying their day.
Against the backdrop of churches and statues however, there is still an uneasy feeling about the place. I had been warned a few times about being careful, even in daylight, but my rumbling tummy forced a hasty retreat to the safety of my room….
ZIGZAGGING AFRICA BY MOTORBIKE 