Today was truly an interesting day — one where I decided to defy all advice and hitchhike from Hoedspruit back to Johannesburg. Along the way, I learned so much about the people, the history of Africa, and the vibrant culture that shapes this country. South Africa, as it turns out, is far more remarkable than I had ever imagined.
The day began with the need to move on. I reluctantly skipped the 5:30 a.m. game drive and opted for a quiet breakfast instead. Bertus, ever the gracious host, offered to drive me to the motorway that leads all the way to Johannesburg. We left the reserve, and soon we were cruising down a deserted road at 150 km/h, the landscape rushing by in a blur. The heat was intense — thankfully, it was a dry heat, which made it somewhat bearable.
Bertus dropped me off on the R40 near Hoedspruit, a prime spot for hitchhiking, given the steady stream of traffic coming from the Kruger National Park entrance at Orpen’s Gate. I thanked him profusely for the unforgettable experiences at the Honeyguide Tented Safari Camp, and with that, I was on my own, standing in what felt like the heart of South Africa, ready to find a ride to Johannesburg.
The sun was relentless, beating down on my head, but thankfully, I had a Honeyguide cap to shield me—otherwise, the few hairs I have left might have abandoned me altogether! But luck was on my side. The third car that passed me pulled over, and the driver was heading to Tzaneen. It was a bit north of where I needed to go, but in the right direction nonetheless. I tossed my backpack into the bed of his pickup truck, and we were off.
Along the way, my driver bought me a can of soda, or “koeldrank,” at a small roadside supermarket that doubled as a post office. We passed a few gas stations, which seemed to be the busiest places in these remote parts of South Africa. Locals gathered under the shade of desert palm trees, selling their harvest along the road. To my surprise, I even spotted an ATM with a line of people waiting to use it — a reminder of how much I still didn’t know about this country.
He dropped me off on the main road out of Tzaneen, heading toward Johannesburg. I sat down in the dry, red sand, sipping the juice Karien had given me at the camp. As I waited, I noticed many others hitchhiking, a common practice here. Cars would pull over, offering space to as many people as they could fit. I quickly realized that I was the only white hitchhiker among them — a curious sight, apparently, given the amused looks I received.
A South African lady approached me and asked where I was headed. When I told her “Johannesburg,” she seemed shocked. “Do you know how far that is?” she asked, almost in disbelief. “Yep, over 400 kilometers,” I replied. She exchanged a few words in another language with some nearby hitchhikers, and they all laughed—at me, I think, though I wasn’t sure why.
“Why don’t you take a taxi?” she suggested. “I don’t have any money,” I answered.
“Cool!” she exclaimed with a wide grin.
As I continued to wait, I noticed a pattern: black drivers generally picked up black passengers, while white drivers did the same with white passengers. It was an unfamiliar and uncomfortable reality, but one I could do nothing but accept.
Eventually, a white driver pulled over, pointing at me to get in. He was heading to Pietersburg (also known as Polokwane), an hour away from Tzaneen, where he planned to switch cars and pick up his wife before continuing to Johannesburg. Lucky for me, he offered to take me all the way.
The drive from Pietersburg was long and uneventful—miles of the same scenery stretched out before us. His wife shared some biltong with me as the car’s radio played old 80s pop songs, a surprisingly effective lullaby. Somewhere along the way, I drifted off to sleep, my backpack serving as a makeshift pillow.
We arrived in Johannesburg around 3 p.m. I had arranged to stay with Lesley-Ann, the PR consultant for eTravel and my unofficial guide for my first week in South Africa. She had graciously offered me a place to stay so I could update my reports using her office computer, something I hadn’t been able to do in the reserve.
Lesley-Ann picked me up, and on the way to her home, she invited me to join her at the Globe Theatre that evening, where a popular show was playing. Her friend Cindy had arranged complimentary tickets, and the offer sounded too good to pass up.
After dropping my things at her place, we headed to the Gold Reef Casino, part of the sprawling Gold Reef City theme park — the Disneyland of South Africa. It’s a massive complex, where the architecture inside harks back to Johannesburg in the 1920s, during the height of the gold rush.
The show we attended was African Footprint, a mesmerizing dance performance that traced the evolution of music and dance from ancient Africa to modern times. The energy, passion, and pride of the performers were palpable. The music, a blend of traditional drums, flutes, and contemporary tap, perfectly captured the spirit of South Africa. It was a powerful reminder of the country’s resilience and its booming economy.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t allowed to bring my digital camera into the casino, but if you’re curious about the show, check out the link above — there are some video clips that really capture the essence of the performance. Make sure to turn up the volume for the full experience!
After the show, Lesley-Ann treated me to dinner at the Back of the Moon, a swanky restaurant in the casino. Over red wine and delicious beef kebabs, we talked about my first days in South Africa. Our conversation drifted into deeper topics — life, politics, expectations, history, and family — while a band played a few obligatory happy birthday songs in the background.
What more can I say? The website updates will have to wait until tomorrow…
Good night, Johannesburg!
