March 6th – Maputo

Maputo is really growing on me as a city. We even came close to saying the traditional Fleming phrase for anywhere we like the look of – "I could live here". This is probably pushing it a little, given the extreme poverty of much of the place, but it feels safe out there on the streets, and the people are friendly and don't hassle you.

Just to test the hassle factor, we went to the craft market, which is purely aimed at tourists. The vendors really weren't too pushy, and the prices seemed reasonable. We then walked over to one of the extreme ends of Maputo life, the opulent, 5-star Polana Hotel. This venerable old colonial hotel was built in the 1920s, when Maputo was gaining a reputation for being "Africa's Riviera"; and although it suffered pretty badly (like the rest of the country) in the Civil War, it's now been restored to its former glories. When you see how plush and luxurious it is, you can see that there's clearly money to be made in today's Maputo.

After this, we visited the Polana Mall, which is quite Westernised although still on a fairly small scale – the price of economic progress is usually that the Western brands move in, and as the place improves its infrastructure, Maputo could be in danger of succumbing to the indentikit developments which are pretty much the same the world over. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on your point of view, Maputo's often dilapidated city centre has a way to go before it gets too Westernised.

After sampling the Maputo retail experience, it was time for a bit of culture, so we walked down to the city's best museum, the Natural History Museum, housed in a beautiful white colonial building. The outside of the building has been given a new coat of paint, but the inside hasn't fared quite so well. The dusty collection of stuffed wildlife is looking a little moth-eaten by now, but I'm sure that it's a great teaching tool for the local schools. The most bizarre exhibit was a display of elephant foetuses from the 22 month gestation period of the elephant – these were real foetuses preserved in formaldehyde, that are the result of a 1930s elephant-killing spree to clear the land for a proposed business development. I don't know which was more disturbing, the fact that someone went and collected all these foetuses from the dead animals, or that 2,000 elephants were killed for a development that never actually went ahead.

We missed the chance last time we were here, but I've been promising myself that I would taste my favourite Mozambican dish (admittedly the only one I know), delicious chicken piri piri. To guarantee that we got the genuine article, we went to a restaurant that had been recommended to us – the imaginatively-named "Chicken Piri Piri Restaurant", which had a nice veranda to ensure that we could people watch the street action while we stuffed ourselves. Fortunately, the restaurant lived up to its name, and served up a delicious and spicy dish that satisfied my greed. Seeing as it was washed down with a couple of local beers (vital re-hydration on an incredibly hot and sticky day), we could scarcely rouse ourselves after this feast, and we headed back to the onboard aircon.

March 4th – Bitten By the Safari Bug in East London

From East London, we travelled for about an hour to the excellent Inkwenkwezi Private Game Reserve. Being a private game reserve, it was much smaller than the National Parks, but it did mean that the rangers could almost guarantee that we'd see the main animal sights. When the giraffes preferred to stay in the trees rather than come out for us, they sent in one of the workers to go and flush them out so we could see them. The elephants were so used to human contact, that they came to us, rather than us having to find them – the down side to this was that they are often over-enthusiastic and clumsy, so our ranger was ready to reverse fast if they came too close or got too boisterous.

There's not quite enough game here for this to be a totally self-sustaining environment – the lions were kept in a separate fenced off (but very large) enclosure, so that they didn't kill off the precious zebra or impala population, and so they're fed cow carcasses rather than having to hunt for their dinner. The picked-clean skulls and skeletons lying on the grass as you come in, give the lion section a menacing air, while the ranger was surreptitiously passed a pistol, as he went through the gates – whether this was reassuring or alarming, I'm not quite sure. The ranger seemed to have every reason to be careful - as we slowly drove past the male lion resting peacefully under a tree, he suddenly charged out from the undergrowth at us roaring threateningly. It's amazing how quickly our old Land Rover could accelerate when it needed to!

The park was very well managed, and the rangers made sure that we got very close up to the wildlife – it's strange to think that you often see more animals in a small reserve like this, than in the much better stocked larger parks. Perhaps the highlight was going to see their three hand-reared cheetahs, which were in a separate pen. These full-grown cheetahs were so tame, that we were able to go up to them and stroke them! It certainly felt very odd, walking up to a large and normally dangerous wild animal and petting it like it was a housecat, but apart from size, they were just the same. They immediately started purring when they were stroked, and would roll over so that you could tickle their stomachs.

Everyone was understandably very apprehensive at first, not helped by the fact that when I squatted down to stroke one of the cheetahs, my sunglasses fell out of my pocket onto the ground – the rattle from the glasses, startled the cheetahs who ran off like, well, scalded cats. For the people who were stroking them at the time, their hearts must have been in their mouths, as these placid prone cheetahs suddenly shot to life.

Fortunately, they calmed down again, and I couldn't get enough of playing with the cheetahs – you quickly forget that these are natural born killers. Their fur was rougher than I expected, but I had to fight hard the urge to rub my face into theirs like I used to with my cat at home - it felt very surreal, but it was a wonderful experience.

So, I walked out of the cheetah enclosure with a real spring in my step, thinking that life can't get much better than this, when I was quickly brought back down to earth, when I was suddenly stung by a huge wasp on my ear. I didn't actually see the wasp, but I think it was roughly the size of a helicopter, and to cap it off, it then went down my shirt and stung me on the stomach.

The pain was absolutely excruciating and I let off a tirade of choice expletives which I hope none of the passengers heard – I now know the pain that Vincent Van Gogh felt. Over lunch, I sat there with a dripping ice cube held to my throbbing ear, and fortunately someone pulled out the huge barb for me – roughly the size of a spear (or at least a centimetre long).

So, a fantastic day at a wonderful game reserve, only slightly tempered by the pain of having my ear almost chewed off by a homicidal wasp.

PS – my swollen ear is now sticking out bizarrely and about 30% larger than normal.

March 2nd - Robben Island

Today, we left one of the symbols for the hopes and dreams of today's South Africa, the stunning Victoria and Alfred Waterfront, to visit one of the symbols of the injustices and fears of apartheid South Africa – Robben Island. This bleak island about 7 miles from Cape Town had been used as a prison from the early days of the Dutch settlement here in the 17th century, but it gained real infamy in the 1960s, when it was used to hold the political prisoners of the anti-apartheid movement. This being apartheid, the prison was only used to hold black, Indian and coloured prisoners – white prisoners were held on the mainland.

The first thing that strikes you about the island, is that it's bigger than you'd expect, unlike Alcatraz, the prison occupies just one small part of the island. The next thing that strikes you is how bleak and windswept it is – on a cold day, with the wind blowing up from the Antarctic, it must have been soul-destroying for those prisoners.

We were shown round by one of the former inmates, a political prisoner from the 1980s – it must be so strange for him now, showing round these groups of multi-cultural holidaymakers round a place he was imprisoned and brutalised in for 10 years. I guess it acts as some form of therapy for him, because he was incredibly positive and optimistic about South Africa.

Our guide told us about the methods the authorities used to try to break the spirit of the inmates and to try to create divides between them. The longer you were in there, the more respect that you had for the dignity and restraint of people like Nelson Mandela, once they were released. Ironically, the prisoners weren't allowed to talk to the prison guards, who were rotated regularly in case they began to sympathise with the inmates – in fact, some of the guards were so impressed by the arguments of Mandela and co, that they resigned.

So, the visit was both depressing and uplifting at the same time – depressing that people can stoop so low in their oppression of their fellow man; but also uplifting that people can rise above this oppression and move on. South Africa has many mountains to climb to mend its broken society, but if it can take inspiration from the history of Robben Island, then its on the right track.

March 1st – The Garden Route From Mossel Bay

As Mossel Bay's harbour is too small to dock at, we had to get a tender into town – easier said than done, considering that the swell was making the tender boat rise and fall alarmingly. But, the crew did a great job of getting everyone off, so we were able to do our tour along the beautiful Garden Route to the pretty town of Knysna.

On the way down the coast, we had stunning sandy beaches on one side, and the mountains on the other, with vast forests and farmland lining the road. On getting to Knysna, we stopped at the waterfront which is a great advert for the country's tourist industry – clean, safe, informal, great views, and sophisticated bars and restaurants everywhere.

We then went to the main event, oyster tasting at an ultra-luxury resort overlooking a private beach. I can't have been to many more stunning seafront settings in the world – a gorgeous deserted white beach, overlooked by a fabulous dining room, where we were served champagne and delicious oysters – amazing! Just before we got thinking of staying here for a few nights, they informed us that their cheapest holiday cottage for two cost a mere 30,000 rand a night (£2,670/$4,350) – I hope that price includes a couple of oysters for dinner!

So, as the ship was sailing at 2pm, we swilled these down, and did the same beautiful drive back again, to catch the last tender back to the ship. By now, the waves had got bigger, and somehow Tracy and I were the last two people off the tender, which was lurching, rising and falling like a rollercoaster, and occasionally getting soaked by big waves. Fortunately, this was a little too scary for me to get seasick, and I've never been more relieved to finally get back onboard after 10 adrenalin-fuelled minutes.

February 28th – Port Elizabeth

In Port Elizabeth, we decided to see an alternative view of South Africa – the neglected townships that surround all its cities. When we think of South Africa, we tend to think of glamorous cities like Cape Town, or exotic Zulu villages, or wide open savannahs full of big game – but the reality of modern South Africa for the majority of its inhabitants is the poverty and squalor of the townships.

We drove out to PE's oldest township, New Brighton, where the ramshackle houses and omnipresent litter attest to the deprivation endured by so many. However, it wasn't totally depressing – people here get on with their lives in a place with a fierce sense of community. As we drove around, it didn't seem a particularly lawless place and we didn't feel threatened, but I guess we'd probably have felt fairly differently if we'd been on foot.

The showpiece of the community, was the excellent Red Location Museum, an innovative museum right in the centre of the township, that highlights the struggle against the injustices of the apartheid regime. It was a thought-provoking and well laid out museum, that particularly highlighted the contribution of the charismatic and highly intelligent leader of the Black Consciousness leader, Steve Biko, who was brutally murdered by the authorities in 1977. The museum re-inforced the impression of just how scared the apartheid government must have been of the black majority – a fear that fuelled their empty justifications for the evil system that they put in place.

After this, we went on a tour of the city, passing by huge posh houses in the comfortable suburbs that could have come from a different world to what we'd just seen a few miles away. We visited the cricket ground, and then went to the city centre which has been fairly neglected over the past few decades, and abandoned by the middle classes. We went up to Donkin Hill that overlooks the city, where we saw the poignant memorial to Elizabeth Donkin, who the port is named after.
Elizabeth was the wife of the first governor here, and died 2 years before he first arrived here, heartbroken in 1820 – the inscription to the "most perfect person who ever lived", is a long way from the stiff upper lip colonial automaton that we'd expect of a servant of the British Empire.

In its Victorian heyday, PE would have been an impressive place, as the range of grand colonial buildings show; however, it's now looking like it could do with some tender loving care. Our guide told us that large numbers of the historic buildings and houses had been bought up by a slum landlord, who was letting their historic heritage slowly fall apart – no-one knows what his long term plans are, but the city is in danger of losing its heart.

Strangely enough, I found the city centre more depressing than the township – hopefully someone with vision will try to re-invigorate it. After this, we quickly went down to the beautiful PE beaches which was a much more optimistic place to end a fascinating day.

February 27th – The Durban Jungle

Only a half day in Durban today, so it was an early start to get to Durban's beachfront. Even though it was only 9am, the beautiful wide sandy beach was busy with people sunning themselves and swimming. This beachfront has got to be Durban's best feature – clean and safe, plus great waves. As we walked along the beach, it was interesting to note that although racial segregation has long since gone, to some extent, the different races still tend to stick together – the end near the Shuttle Drop Off point was nearly all white, while the further down you went, the less white it got.

We went along a pier, where the brave surfers launch themselves into the pounding waves and struggle to make their way out to where the waves break, and then ride the foaming 12 feet high rollers – it really made us wish we could surf.
After this, we took a taxi to the Indian district to go to the famous Victoria Street Market. Being a Sunday, the market was much quieter than normal, and some of the streets around the market had a vaguely menacing air – whether that was in our imagination or not, I don't know, but after exploring the market, we didn't hang around long enough to find out how safe the streets were.

So, we went to the centre of the old colonial city, where there's a fine range of grand civic buildings from Victorian times when this was one of the boom towns of the British Empire. We went to the imposing City Hall (which incidentally is a carbon copy of Belfast's City Hall), and visited the art museum, which had a fascinating collection of art from the Apartheid Era. It was sad to see how much the sense of social injustice and violence had permeated into the consciousness of the artists from this dark period of the country's history. In the same building, we went to the Natural History Museum, which had a dusty collection of stuffed wildlife – probably better to see them running in the wild on safari, but this was a much cheaper alternative.

We then wandered around Durban's cosmopolitan city centre, savouring its interesting mix of African, Indian (over one million people of Indian descent live here), and European influences, before it was time to race back to the ship before it sailed.

February 26th – Shakaworld

Today's trip was into South Africa's Zulu heartland, to find out more about Zulu culture and heritage. Unfortunately, urbanisation and modernisation mean that traditional Zulu villages and ways of life are increasingly being compromised by the 21st century, so our trip was to a "cultural village" rather than a real one. In fact we were being taken to a film set that had been created for the 1980s TV series "Shaka" about the 19th century King Shaka, who united the Zulu nation.

In spite of it being created as a film set, it looked and felt fairly genuine, and the singing and dancing were pretty good. We learnt about the social structure of the Zulus and their food and drink (more stomach-churning Zulu beer to be tasted); and then we were treated to a high energy dance performance, powered by some pulsating drum beats. A few of the performers were a little half-hearted, but the majority of them were putting their heart and soul into it; and, even if it felt a little more contrived and less spontaneous than the Xhosa dancing we saw at Khaya La Bantu earlier in the week, it was all very polished and well organised and everyone enjoyed themselves.

That evening, we walked from the ship to the Richards Bay waterfront to watch England beat France at rugby, and have a delicious and great value meal. This waterfront is the South Africa that the tourist board would like to promote – modern, funky, great food and atmosphere, and most importantly it's safe and relaxed.

Unfortunately, this laid back environment has had to be created behind razor wire and security patrols – hopefully, one day, this high level of security won't be needed.