Getting to Windhoek was convenient and affordable, though hardly luxurious.
InterCape Mainliner offered a direct bus from Cape Town that cost only $63.00. The 1,000 mile journey would take only twenty hours. By comparison, a one way ticket on Air Namibia or South African Airways would have cost over $300.00.
Busses in South Africa – at least those operated by any of the three major companies – are really quite nice. Compared to America’s Greyhound Bus Lines, they are unquestionably superior. While the seating on my bus was about as comfortable as one could expect on any bus, I did not expect the complimentary tea and coffee service offered every four or five hours by our friendly bus attendant. Also shown were two or three movies which I ignored since the television screen was so far forward that I couldn’t make out much detail. Every three or four hours we would make a 10-15 minute rest stop, so keeping well fed and watered was not a problem. As for spending twenty hours on a bus, I had no problem with it. I read a lot, listened to my music and otherwise slept.
Arrival in Windhoek was at 5:25am. There was no bus terminal that I could see. We were simply dropped off in a big empty downtown parking lot. Some passengers were met by family or friends while others piled into one of the two waiting taxis. Also waiting were vans from two of the local hostels. Since the
Desert Express wouldn’t depart until 3:00 that afternoon, I decided to get a day rate at one of the hostels. In this way I’d have a safe spot to leave my pack as well as a good place to grab a shower and a bite to eat.
The driver from
Chameleon Backpackers seemed bright eyed and personable, so I went with him. Joining me were two guys from Holland. The Chameleon was a really nice hostel with excellent accommodations and facilities, including a large swimming pool and a nice shady thatched roof cabana bar at poolside. There was also a real Bull Terrier named “Spanky”. I’d seen pictures of these dogs, but had never before seen the real thing live and up close. Thankfully, he was a friendly and affectionate creature. After a couple of cranium rubs and a prolonged nasal massage, we were friends for life.
At 1:00pm, I got a ride to the train station. This was a free service from the hostel since walking around Windhoek with bags of any type – even in the middle of the day - was not considered safe.
DESERT EXPRESS PICTURES ARE LOCATED
HERE
The Windhoek train station is a distinctive two story building painted white with green trim and a nice green peaked roof. It looked like a fine place from which to begin a First Class rail journey!
Windhoek Railroad Station
The Desert Express check in area was located in its own separate room off to the side of the main lobby. A security guard stood a casual watch at the entrance. The two ladies working behind the desk welcomed me by name as if I were a regular patron of the train. They were extremely cordial and efficient, tagging my backpack and handing me an attractive ticket wallet and boarding card. I was assigned to “Oryx” car, Suite 2. My pack would be delivered directly to my suite and would be awaiting me upon boarding.
I hadn’t had any lunch yet and since there was still over an hour until departure time, I decided to head up the street and see what was available. The station offered no food services short of a vending machine that sold a variety of junk foods and sodas, so I asked the agents if there were any restaurants or take away places nearby. They indicated that there were a couple of places just up the street from the station but cautioned that I shouldn’t walk up there with my daypack. “Really? Even two blocks from this station?”, I asked. They both nodded emphatically and suggested I leave my pack with them. They would check it and have it waiting in my suite when I boarded. Fair enough.
No doubt some people, after hearing such a warning, would not care to even leave the station. In my life I’ve spent a fair bit of time on both sides of the tracks and so did not feel particularly threatened walking around without my pack. It’s kind of like hiking in Denali Park. Sure, there are plenty of grizzly bears out there, but you can get by just fine so long as you don’t do or bring anything with you that would attract them. For example, perishable, aromatic foods are a definite no-no. In the human jungle, a daypack or shopping bag can be every bit as attractive to the criminal element as raw meat is to a carnivore. Behavior and body language also come into play. Dressing in brightly colored and/or expensive clothes, wearing jewelry or a camera, or walking about as if unsure about your surroundings or destination will draw attention to you just as surely as if you’d blown a whistle and shouted “Hey! Look at me! I’m a geek who’s just ripe for the picking!”
Some cities are relatively safe in all areas day or night. Others have areas that are safe during the day but not so safe at night. Still others are unsafe any time of day. It always pays to get the local opinion regardless.
The best advice I can give for walking about in questionable neighborhoods during the daylight hours is to try to blend in as much as possible. Obviously, there’s nothing I can do about being white in a non-white environment, but in terms off dress and body language, I dress down and I walk like I belong. That is to say I walk like I’m comfortable and know where I’m going. As for dress, my standard t-shirt and jeans arouses little attention. Also, never carry any more money or anything else with you than you’re willing to lose. I discreetly buried my wallet in my daypack, handed it over to the agents and headed on into town.
As such, I sauntered unimpeded about three blocks up from the station to a small area of shops and bars where I found a take away place selling sandwiches and sausages. Since everything appeared to be refrigerated, I bought a chicken sandwich, a bag of chips and a big bottle of water before heading back to the station.
By the time I’d returned, the
Desert Express was sitting in the station. The baggage handlers were busy getting baggage aboard while other employees attended to the bar and dining car. I headed out onto the platform to have a look at the train.
The Desert Express awaits departure from Windhoek
Reflections