Bakubung Lodge is situated inside Pilanesburg National Park and according to our very handsome guide Peter (I’ll have to pinch a picture from J as I didn’t get a good one), the Park spans 55K hectare (Learning the metric system stopped for me in Grade 8 or 9, so for me it’s hard to get there from 2.54 inches in a cm or a 10K is 6.2 miles, okay?). I can, however, go from celsius to fahrenheit and back quite easily(I used to convert with the fraction formula until someone gave me an easier way), as well as give the time in military terms as it is done here. It’s a huge park (4th largest in zA) with barbed wire fencing to protect the wild animals from the people. The Big 5 live in the park but were brought back to the region some time in the 70’s. A volcano or two erupted here millions of years ago making for unique geological features. The differences in the terrain here (vs. Capetown) are staggering. Even in winter Capetown and the Cape Peninsula is lush and green. The Northwest Province is red, brown and dry. Amazing. Look at my pics to see.
Not so amazing was Sun City. Actually it was a waste of time excursion I should have avoided. I would have loved a night drive through the park, but that only happens in the summer (October to February).
So after said waste of time excursion to Sun City (I only went because I knew they’d have an ABSA bank machine), I took a long nap and lounged around the lodge. I’m not a big gambler (besides the occasional round of roulette in matters of the heart — and no not Russian, even I’m not that cynical). I’ve never been to Vegas, but Sun City can best be described as a family friendly resort with slot machines. I think I’ll always associate Sun City with apartheid and the big name musicians who played there despite that.
Today we are returning to what I’ll forever refer to as the Craft Market from hell. Quite large and the sellers quite aggressive. Very. I’m all for giving my tourist dollars to the people who can most benefit, but I’m not a good haggler and it is something that is expected in the open markets. The first time we stopped here (somewhere near Rustenberg) it was only for a quick toilet break so I had to ditch this aggressive seller who personally (and unsolicitly) escorted me to the bathroom. Taking another route through the labyrinth of booths, I bought some mudcloth for my mother (one item checked off her list). Just as I was getting close to the bus, the guy spots me and yells “Seesta..Seesta..”. I did not look back.
My second time there I came across these beautiful hand woven wall hangings (actually from Congo-Brazzaville) and commenced bargaining with the seller. In typical garage sale fashion, I offered half the asking price. His response: “Seesta..don’t cut off all of my ear at once. Just take a little.” We eventually got to an agreeable price but it was exhausting. When I was short a few ZAR and called out to my roommate, he took less because he said I should purchase with my own money not someone else’s. He obviously doesn’t understand the American way. 
Maybe I’m better at this than I thought. He threw in a bracelet. I had just enough time left to eat a less-than-satisfying beef roti (rollup) and drank my favorite juice before getting back on the bus to the Lesedi Cultural Village.
mm.. just wanna say thank you