Namibia chapter fourteen
A day in Swakopmund.
I wake up to a cold grey morning. I’ve slept almost nine hours. I step out onto my little balcony to admire the view. Waves crash on the shore; a damp wind blows across my face.
I put on my sandals and ride the elevator down to the lobby. I step out into the street and walk along the beach, dip my feet into the surf. The sand beneath my feet is cool and wet. Yesterday the sand was cool and dry. What a difference a day makes.
Dolphins or seals play in the surf. They’re too far to make out clearly. They ride the waves in, disappearing into the sea before they reach the shore. To my left oil rigs dot the horizon, to my right the town and a wooden jetty that reaches out towards the Americas.
After breakfast I take a stroll along the coastline. There’s a small park and a walking path towards the jetty. Beyond that, another tree-lined path leads to a hotel and restaurant complex by the museum.
I admire the traditionally German and modern architecture en route, the different styles marking eras of development in Swakopmund.
A small flock of guinea fowl greet me near the hotel. They’re one of my favorite birds in Africa. From the side, their trapezoidal shapes make almost a mockery of what you’d imagine a bird should be.
Reaching the hotel I walk along a short jetty towards the sea. On the other side a small protected bay shelters a hotel-lined beach. A floating dock offers swimmers a place to rest in the bay. Now, out of season, the beach is deserted; the day remains overcast, the temperature cool
I walk towards the lighthouse, past the museum and a small playground. I walk past the State House and the Marine Memorial and continue west further into town.
The streets are quiet and I wonder if it’s the weekend. I check the date. It’s Thursday. I pass a toy store and stop in to see if they have Monopoly Deal. They have Bid. I’ve fallen for that one before. They tell me they’ve tried to get Deal without luck.
At the German Evangelical Lutheran Church I take a right and head south, towards the hotel. I wind my way in a southwesterly direction until I find myself in front of the Hohenzollernhaus, a Neo-Baroque hotel built in the 1906. It’s now a condominium and I wonder what the rooms are like inside.
A grocery store sits across from it and I make a mental note to drop by later to refill my water bottles.
The spire of the Woermannhaus beckons to me. Completed in 1905, it was originally the headquarters of the Damara & Namaqua trading company before being taken over by the Woermann & Brock Trading Company. In the 1920s it became a school dormitory and then a merchant sailor’s hostel. In 1976 it was declared a national monument and restored after having fallen into disrepair.
Part of the building now houses the library. I enter and am directed down a hall into a courtyard. A sign on the door to the spire directs me to a small shop off the side of the courtyard. Women are tailoring clothing in the back and I am told to wait for a moment. Another woman comes forth and collects a small fee before grabbing a key from a drawer. She leads me back to the door and unlocks it, wishing me a pleasant visit before returning to the shop. I look up at the steps before me and begin to climb.
From the top the views are expansive. I look over every inch of the city I have just explored, the streets I have walked, the roads I drove on arrival. I hold a map in my head and now have areal views to accompany the loose sketches I had in my mind.
Back on the ground I walk back towards the sea and the jetty. I pass an empty schoolyard and determine the children must be on break. It turns out it’s the mid-term break.
At the jetty men try to sell me curios. I tell them thank you, but I’m not interested. I walk to the end and stare out over the Atlantic. A photographer follows a couple around. Two women take photos of each other and I offer to take some of the both of them. They had me a phone and I take a few for them to choose from.
Walking back I spot seals in the water. They swim lazily, gracefully in the calm, barely leving a ripple on the surface.
As I stroll back through the park near my hotel the sun breaks through the clouds. It’s amazing how different everything looks with the clouds pulled back. The colors are vibrant and bright; the temperature rises.
The park ends at the National Marine Aquarium, which is closed for renovations. A few food trucks line the edge of the parking lot and I stop at one for grilled fish and calimari. It’s a family-run business and the proprietor chats with me for a bit until her husband drives up and they sit down for their lunch. It’s a tasty meal and I am thankful that the sun is out. It’s almost too warm now to sit out and I position myself under an umbrella. A sea breeze keeps the temperature mild.
In the evening I head back up to the roof to watch the sunset. There’s not a cloud in the sky and the colors from an unbroken gradient from edge of the sea to infinity. 🇳🇦
30 May 2024
