Friday 8th April - 1PM

Friday 8th April – St Georges Cricket Ground, Port Elizabeth

Wednesday night was a real night of contrast. To start, I was picked up by Bill from the Chelsea Supporters Club Knysna. Bill is a Londoner who’s supported Chelsea since the 50s, and has lived in South Africa for over 20 years. For all of the big games, he, along with other fans, met up at an Italian restaurant on the waterfront to watch the game.

After meeting the others, it turned out that Bill aside, there’s only one other actual Chelsea fan. The rest were made up by “football fans” who don’t have a set team, and one who was an Arsenal fan, but just liked the company. However, they were all supporting Chelsea, which is all that mattered.

The game itself wasn’t great, but I had a lovely pizza, and we all had an indignant moan about the poor decisions that Chelsea get in Europe.

After saying my goodbyes and being dropped back to the hostel by Bill, I changed out of my Chelsea shirt and into something els. Before going down to the Waterfront, a few of us at the hostel had arranged to go out and find what Knysna had to offer in terms of entertainment for an evening. They’d all been waiting for my return, so after I got back, we hit Knysna high street.

The first place we went to wasn’t the most glamorous place in the world. It was mainly filled by old men with no teeth, and we all had a right laugh at the mural of John Travolta peeking through some bushes that filled the whole wall of the toilets.

Bizarrely, some old bloke with grey wispy hair and an even wispier beard took our laughter as a sign of approval, and revealed that he was the painter. After telling him that his work was “certainly unique”, we soon drank up and left, and moved on to the next place.

It was a club called “Zanzibar”, and it was the first time I’ve ever been into a completely empty club. After taking the ironic photos of us filling the dancefloor, we moved on from there to, and to a club across the road called “Up”. The rest of the evening was spent in there, and a good time was had by all.

Here are some brief notes about the evening:

• People kept shouting “Holland! Holland!” at me, because I was wearing an orange shirt.
• Some South African asked me if I was English, which I confirmed, to which he exclaimed “Oh, Nasser Hussain!”. While I do respect Nasser as an ex-England captain and commentator, I was surprised that out of the pool of names such as Churchill, Shakespeare and Darwin, that Essex’s finest Nas was chosen to represent England…
• As an Afrikaans part of the world, the toilets were listed as “Ekoles” or “Ekeles”. I have no idea which one I am, so I guessed at “Ekole”. I have no idea if I was right.

I awoke the following morning to find that I’d won five flashing ice cubes and a string bag. How, I have no idea. I also had 10 minutes to check out or I’d be charged for another night. After just about meeting the deadline, I spent the next few hours exploring Knysna by daylight. It’s a very nice town, with a nice waterfront and mall.

My bus was due at around 4, so I returned to the hostel early so I’d be in plenty of time. Time, however, kept ticking on and on, and while there was a TV to watch and a few beers with those from last night, the fact that the bus was four hours late meant that it wasn’t an ideal way to spend the afternoon.
Eventually, without warning it did arrive, and I had to say a rushed goodbye to my friends-of-one-night. I guess that’s the nature of backpacking, you’re forced into making quick acquaintances, but you’re equally forced away from them just as fast, never to see any of them again.

My bus to PE took a further five hours, and I eventually arrived blurry eyed at around midnight. I collapsed into bed, and woke up late.

I’ve now spent my first morning in Port Elizabeth, having had breakfast in a small bakery and gone for a walk. As is my wont, I stumbled across St George’s Cricket Ground, and while I was prepared to pay for a guided tour, after a quick word with the security guard, I let myself in for a wander around the pitch and stands. I’m now writing this from the main stand, with a great view of everything.

I have no idea if I’m meant to be here, but here I am anyway. I should probably get moving, as a security guard is looking a bit edgy…