30 km before Windhoek we pulled of the road to talk to these people. They were a farming family that had taken their Donkey and Karts to the tar road, and then walked into Windhoek for supplies. The Journey had taken them three days. They were pleased to be offered some Biltong, bread and some drink.
After a chat I pulled down from the roof of the Landrover, the last six pairs of old jeans, that I had brought with me to give away. Although they were soaking wet from the rains they were delighted.
We arrived in Windhoek at 5.30 pm and to try and remember where the Card Board Box backpackers was after seven years was quite an effort. One street had been closed off, but after finding the place it was very much as Ben and I had found it in 2002.
With the roof top up, the rains began to pour again, but remarkably the tent had stayed dry inside.
We watched the Scotland France Rugby in the Bar and then the England Wales game, and most of the people in the bar were a friendly genuine crowd.
We were approached by some one that offered us a lift into town and he took us to a couple of clubs. The second being an Afrikans club with a great atmosphere. It was like being in Scotland with people jiving or waltzing in circles around the dance floor. Our host was however acting very odd, and had asked us to tell people that we had known him for years and had come to town to meet him and stay with him. As we were talking to different friendly Afrikans he would interrupt and ask what their intention was. I went out to the back office with the manager and explained that I felt uncomfortable, and that this man had been drinking and was intending driving us somewhere else, could she call me a cab. When we checked into the Cardboard box we alerted security and in the morning the management confirmed that they had problems from him with other guests before and he would now be barred from future entry.
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