Knysna

A morning driving with D'n D was pleasant as we got to know each other. They are Israeli (which is nice because lots of you recommended Israel as a good place to visit- tee hee), both swots with good degrees in industrial engineering or something and live on a Kibutz in an apartment with a kitchen smaller than a pool table. They are serious travellers- more serious than me because I fold my clothes into a block before putting them into my pack which keeps them tidy and provides a regular shape to pack around. Being hardcore they stuff their clothes into any available space in their packs. They have been all over the place and have great stories to tell. What's more they are a lovely genuine couple who got married a month ago but still sleep in a dorm (I've said it before and I'll say it again- clever people with degrees and common sense, rarely in the same place at the same time). So, now you know them as well as I do if you fancy a visit to the Holy Land you are sorted.
We hit Knysna and did the rounds of hostels opting for the Highfields. We should have been alerted by the semi comatose receptionist but gave her the benefit and after a poor inspection we booked beds and on the recommendation of the narcoleptic receptionist began the 40 minute walk up the the Heads. These are the mountain peaks which guard the bay from the ocean in spectacular fashion. After an hour walking we cut our loses and went back for the car. A 20 minute DRIVE found us on the heads and we spent the best part of an hour gawping at the awesome view and the millionaires mansions nearby. The sea air increased our craving for the ice creams we had promised ourselves several hours before. All sceneried out we drove down to the nearby beach and tested the water in which small boys were splashing- it was bloody cold. Eventually we overheard one of the aforementioned samll boys asking his mum if they could go for ice creams. Pester power being universal, she agreed and we hatched a plan to follow them having failed all afternoon to find even a corner shop selling ice pops. Having had some training in surveillance you'd think I'd have been good but a one car follow with 3 obvious foreigners dribbling is never going to be great. After about 10 minutes we ended up at the destination of out targets- yep they went home for the ice cream! Bummer. Determined not to be beaten we found a supermarket and bought food for the evening meal (remember I said 'I' wouldn't cook, I didn't say anything about Israeli friends) and finally ice creams. I chose one of those grown up lollies (choc ice on a stick with a decadent sounding name) and promptly dropped the chocolate on my lap thereby soiling both my shorts and the car seat- great!
Back to the hostel where dinner was cooked. The kitchen was poorly equipped and filthy and we met Pat from just outside Cheltenham for the second time- she had nothing to do with the state of the kitchen- it just reads that way.