Heading North

Mexico and France played on June 17 at 8:30 pm in Polokwane. And we had tickets! The only problem was that we awoke that morning in Durban. We had to go 876 km up the N3 and N1 to the northernmost World Cup site in the middle of rural Limpopo. South Africa may not necessarily look that big on a map, but it's almost twice the size of Texas. If you've ever driven across Texas, it's huge! South Africa is the same way.

We rolled away from the Blue Waters Hotel just after 8:30 am. Since Bill had driven all the way from Rustenburg to Durban under trying circumstances, we agreed that he would use his wrong-side driving skills to get us out of the crowded city. An hour north of Durban, we pulled a quick switcheroo and I found myself behind the wheel on the right (wrong) side of the car.

There wasn't much to do on a sunny Thursday but hook up the iPhone to the radio, blast some tunes, and lock in the cruise control. Further down the road, Bill caught some shut-eye, and then we listened to Michael Abrahamson's call of Argentina-South Korea on the radio (he kept calling him "Maxi Rodrigs"--not so great with the Latin surnames). Growing up, our annual family car trips from DC to Hilton Head had prepared me for such a day. Stopping is for weaklings; fortune rewards those who power through. We stopped just twice during my turn at the wheel, once for gas just north of Harrismith, and once for a quick bio break an hour-and-a-half later. Not to toot my own vuvuzela, but after that, I got into the "zone" and took us all the way to Mokopane, site of our guest house (below). We pulled in just after 4:30 pm, during the first half of Nigeria-Greece. It was a drive my dad would appreciate.

The only downside is that we may owe the South African traffic police a hefty bill for our excessive speed. They have cameras with speed guns set up every so often and apparently don't even bother to pull you over; they just send you a bill. We're only going to pay if they come collect it from us in person.