2006: A Wrohan Odyssey

IAN: Quality African motor vehicles

It appears that we're operating on African time...it's like daylight savings, but things always happen later than they should. Awesome. The safari bus has arrived but something's buggered with one of the wheels so we get to wait while they carjack another...sorry, bad humor. I firmly believe that they book so many people on these tours so that the bus has several shifts of labourers to push it to the next destination.
Our last couple of days in the cape kicked ass. After a big goodbye at the hostel that had adopted us as the children that one would leave on a doorstep, we stayed with Rew's bud Somadi and her folks who introduced us to a true Africaans drink: cheap brandy and coke. Uncivilized you say? Perhaps, but delicious.
Either they hated to see us go, or couldn't wait to have us gone...

Oh yeah, we went on a drive through the Cape Town 'townships' (=ghettos). That was the best tour so far, giving one a little perspective after being drown in the glitz of Cape Town proper. Part of the tour was a stop at one of the local bars. Little more than a smoky shack, they brew up 'beer' (it's name escapes me right now) in what appeared to be a garbage can. Then, with all the tourists in a semicircle, a jug of the stuff is popped in front of you, and everybody takes a hit. And here's the best part: one dollar gets you all you can drink, though the drink may not appeal to everybody's palate! The tour was a real eye opener, and there's too much to talk about here, but we'll get some pics going soon.
So we've left Cape Town behind, and moved on to the snowy peaks (that's right, snow people) of the east. And some of you laughed when I packed winter gear...
Good lord, against all odds the bus is here! Time to load the old elephant gun and don my tacky khakis, it's safari time. But one more shot from Cape Town...I guess the view was OK...

BEX:mmm...sleep

Hey all!
Well the Wrohan duo are off on safari this morning. The sun has yet to rise in good old Jo'berg but we're in good, yet sleepy spirits.
Ian promises to continue his quest to eat the big five without getting eaten himself. We'll update on our progress in a weeks time when we arrive in sunny Durban.
Wish us luck!

IAN: In vino veritas (cliche of the day)

It was inevitable really: our incursion into South Africa's wine country. These tours are great: sample number one hits the lips shortly before 10am, which is better than coffee, and they just keep rolling it out after that. Now, they have a variety of grape here (an unholy alliance of that of Pino Noir and Hermitage) that is the precursor of South Africa's famous 'Pinotage'. And it is delicious! The problem is, they're so proud of it, that there are several different variations for each vinyard. Damn. Sister and I were completely caught off guard and had to make snap decisions that I hope will please those lucky enough to get a bottle upon our return (we will have several cases in our possession soon as they don't sell them by the palate, which is disappointing). Shortly after yet another massive wine and cheese sitting that offered unlimited fine cheeses but only 6 wine samples (we managed 10 of course), we were shuttled off to a very civilized lucheon to consume one's choice of Africa's fauna. And as we sat, overwhelmed by consumption, another venue was announced. What else can one do but gird up thine loins and charge back in. By this time there were atrocities (aka. 'sample and spit') being committed left and right, but fear not father, we fought on to the bitter purple toothed end (see the pic).....okay fine, I fell asleep on the ride home. Now here I sit in the evening hour broken and tired, contemplating my latte, and rallying for the next adventure.

Tonight is a massive shaker at one the hostels downtown that we will be hitting with a strike force consisting of: two Canucks, a hungover Aussie (naturally), a drunken sailor from Tennessee, a battalion of ze Germans, and a guy from some tiny island off the coast of Madagascar (when spoken to in english, he just nods and smiles, but he's cool). Awesome. We launch the attack at 19:00, wish us luck.

SAFARI BEX: Adrenaline Junkie

Well my brother and I have yet again risked the odds in the wild South. A few days ago Ian and I hurled ourselves out of a plane at nine thousand feet and took the 30 second free fall to insanity. I believe Ian summed it up best by saying, "it's the craziest thing I've ever done...sober"

The last couple days however have been far less adrenaline filled. I spent Wednesday at a private game reserve up North with some Aussies, where we spent the day basking with the lionesses and lounging in the fields with the rhino. I believe Ian had the ambitious idea that he would hike up Table Mountain that day but the bad weather and a looming hangover seemed to keep him from doing so.

Yesterday however the Wrohans united again and went out to visit Robben Island (the prison where Nelson Mandela was held). The trip was very interesting and especially informative due to the fact that old inmates were the ones who acted as our tour guides.

Other then that, us Wrohans have continued our tradition of excessive drinking and bad behavior. It seems that our new Australian friends have brought out the best/worst in us and our pocket books. *Parents stay posted for emergency financial assistance.

Tomorrow’s Agenda:
-Wine Tour (YEHA!)
-Backpacker’s hostel yearly birthday bash (GONG!)

IAN: "How did you like the surprise?"

...was the first thing out of the abseiling manager's mouth (curled up into a cheeky smile) as we returned from the hike back up the mountain. The 'surprise' was that halfway down, the rock underfoot all of a sudden disappeared and you were left hanging (literally) 60 meters or so off the ground. I was wondering why the people before us were so freaked out afterwords.....we though it was a nice touch. Now the idea is to have at least one hand on the rope to arrest your fall but my sister, because she's just that hardcore, thought little of this concept...

Yesterday (or the day before...losing track of time) we rented a CRAPPY (no stereo, ripped seats, smelled like my motorcycle boots) car with some buds and cruised down the coast to the (almost) southern tip of the continent, where under dark, ominous skies we presented ourselves intrepidly towards the unknown horizon (yes, I'm looking for an Oscar).....just us and a posse of a hundred Asian tourists. Surprise surprise.

Tomorrow we up the ante: skydiving.

IAN: Wrohanism

I need to clear up some confusion about the 'Wrohans Yeah' slogan. It has nothing to do with my buttocks or a cult of Wrohanism (wuhahaha), nor does it somehow spell 'I love porno' when the letters are reversed (come on man, did you even try to spell it backwards?). It is simply a statement of our passion for family heritage, an anthem of sorts, although it only seems to be produced at the bar...funny that. Now there has been scattered interest in joining in on the Wrohan yell, but I need to make this clear: one must become a Wrohan in order to do so. Now, unless Ad or I spend a little too much time in Thailand, at the present this option is only open to females and a recent survey showed that 72% of women agree that there are some consequences of the indoctrination that are truly horrifying!

As for news on the travelling front, I think sista has pretty much covered it. But check this out: against all odds and my blond roots, and under the careful guidance of lovely ladies, I've managed to put visuals in the blog. The naked ape prevails! Here's a pic of the aforementioned airport sign where Sam, our favorite taxi driver, had some issues with the spelling of the slogan. Sam's a great guy with my best interests in mind, and has offered to take me to a local medicine man who will whip up a tonic (from turtle urine...) that will prevent me from consuming alcohol permanently! Other than this one threat, we've gotten along quite well so far. Wrohans yeah!

BEX: In Search of the 15L Keg

The last few days in sunny Cape Town have been amazing! From laying low with the penguins to climbing high up to Cape Point, we are without a doubt being spoiled. Although the big bro and I have yet to throw ourselves out of a plane we are still managing to keep ourselves busy with the company of our fellow travellers.

The last few days have however left us wondering if the legend of the 15L keg is actually real. Apparently a local pub offers 15 and 30L kegs for a very reasonable price but we have yet to discover such. I'm beginning to think the locals might have caught on that the combination of that much alcohol and our possy of obnoxious Canadian/Australians might be more then they care to handle...our search however will continue.

Other then that all things are well. Today we visited to local museum and tried to figure out the messed up southern constellations at the planetarium. We also came face to face with some sharks and marine life at the aquarium. Maybe a sunset cruise tonight or just drinks at the hostel bar..who knows.

Hope all is well. Cheers for now!

BEX: Wrohams Yeha!

Well after the 20 hour flight from NYC to Cape Town I was pleased to see the welcoming "Rebecca Wrohams Yeha!" sign which greeted me at the arrival gates. Although slightly off from the "Wrohans Yeah!" slogan, I felt it quite fitting since my brother who apparently coordinated the sign was drunk upon my arrival.

Our hostel is amazing!! As noted above, Ian has found the bar and a load of Aussies to drink with. Apparently we've tapped into a keg party tonight so it will be guaranteed to be a good time.

We managed to make it up Table Mountain today which was stunning (pics to follow) and took a road trip along the coast with our new Australian friends. Who knows what tomorrow will hold, possibly some sky diving or maybe swimming with Jaws...

Hope all is well back home..will keep everyone updated on the Wrohan gongshow....yeha!

IAN: The best thing about Amsterdam? The Welsh!

An excerpt from the Lonely Planet guide to Amsterdam: Freddy Heineken, in addition to being an infamous beer mogul, was also know to be quite the ladies man. In one instance a young lady walked up to the bar and said, "I'd like to have a Heineken." Freddy, standing nearby, responded, "I'm right here."
That's Amsterdam for ya.

One of the definite high points (!) of the city were it's museums. And the best part: all the major ones are located pretty much right next to each other! You basically walk out of one, the doorman of the one next door catches your eye with a smile, and you get sucked in (and 10 euros or so get sucked out of your wallet).

The night life was legendary, with plenty of entertaining moments, but I'll share one with you that has a leg up on the others...
I was sharing a dorm with a troup of Welshmen on a stag party. The ringleader (and best man) had quite a bit too much to drink and couldn't remember my name, although he remembered that I was Canadian and that it started with an 'I'. So he gave me a choice: for the rest of the evening I would be called either 'Mountie' or 'Isabel', my choice. I chose the former, and my witty retort was to challenge him to a foot race.....he was in a wheelchair. Now this may seem pretty cruel, but he had a wicked sense of humor about his one missing limb, and kept taking off his fake leg and hitting people with it. Still, things kind of deteriorated after that and the waitress had to take our steak knives away. I now have an open invitiation to Wales, though I probably wouldn't survive the trip. Good times.

As with all great trip (!) stories, it's best to let the pictures do the talking, so I'll save the rest until I get home.

The Dam

After helping a disoriented southern belle navigate the 'European internet' and convincing Jan, a very pleasant Dutch spice dealer, to let me use his unlimited internet connection, I finally have a solid 10 minutes before boarding an 11.5 hour flight to reflect on my time in the Netherlands. The details come back as if in a dream, the one where you're moving through a haze and that friendly rastafarian face slides into view from the periphery offering you things that will surely get one stripsearched at the airport. But this was no dream, this was Amsterdam.

Seeing as the plane (with or without me) books in a few minutes, this is gonna be a two part'er. But let me comment on a few of the more popular questions raised so far.
For all you hedonists out there, the rumors about the city are true, all true. Fantastic. That's all I'll say about that.
No, as far as I saw, there is no such thing as the National Windmill.
The language is called Dutch, not Netherlandish.
The 'Penis de Milo' is fictitious, although I took a picture of something close.
The answer to the 'horticultiural' question: 13%. Wow.
Yes, Dutch women can be be quite tall; the national average is 5'8". And yes dude, they would probably carry YOU over the threshold.

OK folks, I'm out of time. I take my leave of the old world now, looking towards the mystery and adventure of the Dark Continent. Next stop: Africa.

In the beginning...

And He said, Let there be Wrohans: and there were Wrohans, and this was good.

Welcome folks to where educated people come to hear the word of Wrohan, and join us as we spread the good word across the globe. This first entry is sending shouts out to the man who makes this all possibly: Michael J (applause). Without him I'd be filling your inbox with weekly drivel that you may now tune out altogether if you please. Wadaguy.

At his very moment the good people in charge of the Amsterdam airport are charging me 12! dollars per hour to use this archaic computer, so I'll be back with more nonsense from the old world as soon as I can find somebody passed out at their workstation (not hard in this country).