I’m not accustomed to drinking beer at 10 a.m.
Yesterday I fulfilled a long time wish. I hired a “fixer”, a photo professional who knows where to find the good things to shoot, how to get into places you aren’t supposed to go and how to get back out alive. We ditched the official tour and went out by ourselves to find interesting people and faces to shoot.
It was great, but I’m beat. We started the day in a township, one of the many areas where the poor black people live. My fixer found a local guide who was able to take me deep into the township and see how things really are. At one point we were in a shebeen (which is actually an Irish word for some reason). This is essentially an illegal bar, serving homemade beer. The proprietor put down a gallon jug of fresh made, low alcohol beer which was to be shared by all 5 of us in there. I paid for it, of course, which came to about $2. Being the ever genial host, I took a big swig of the watery and not very good beer. This is not the recommended way to start your day.
We were out all day, walking and shooting and meeting people. I haven’t walked that much in one day since I was in the Boy Scouts, and arrived back at the hotel exhausted. Spent. Knackered. All-in. I managed to download the 287 photos I took and made a feeble attempt to edit them, but a nap broke out until dinnertime.
I needed a taxi to get us the 1/2 mile to dinner, where I enjoyed an African meal of ostrich, crocodile and springbok (a version of deer). Then a taxi back to the hotel and I tumbled into the sack at 9:30 and slept through.
We’re off on the tour bus today, and I’ll get more of the photos processed and stories written tonight. This having fun is hard work.