This was my favourite place during the whole trip, although every place I went was momentarily my favourite until the next place, but in hindsight, Lesotho was my absolute favourite.
It’s the highest independent Kingdom in the world, which right off the bat sounds very Shangri-la to me. It’s tiny, only 30,000 square miles, with a population of approx 2 million, and one of only 3 enclaved countries in the world (the others being Vatican City and San Marino) It has the second highest rate of HIV/AIDS in the world, and the average life expectancy for both men and women is only 53. It’s hot, hot, hot in the summer and cold in the winter. Actually, one morning we got up and it was only +2, but by late afternoon it was almost +36. Talk about not knowing how to dress! As a matter of fact, every single man we saw was dressed the same....rubber boots (called Wellingtons, due to the British influence), a heavy blanket wrapped around them and a hat, usually woolen, but often the tradition woven type.
This picture was taken once we were inside Lesotho. You can see the sign saying “Welcome to South Africa in the background, on the left. The “Go in Peace” sign is as you are leaving Lesotho. The space in between is sort of a no-mans land, with fellows with guns. So our bus parked on the other side of the Welcome sign, we had to walk into the border building and get our passports stamped with a departure visa, but one of our group had left their passport in their suitcase in the luggage part of the bus, so they had to wait a minute for our driver to get the suitcase out. Meanwhile, the rest of us lined up at the window. One other person waited at the bus with the passport-getting person. The line-up was fairly long and fairly slow, so as we waited, quite a few other people lined up behind us. When the passport-getting person and the other one who waited with them arrived, there were about 15 people behind us. Our guide told our 2 to just move up and get in line with us, saying to the others that we were all one group. Well, holy geez, did some yelling and angry voices start up. Our guide was talking loudly back and of course none of us had any idea what was going on. Our guide just told our 2 to go to the back of the line, and that we’d wait for them. He said afterwards that the line-up, which was all black people, were yelling that just because we were all white that we felt superior and that we felt that we had the right to just cut in front of them simply because we were white and they were black. It was really uncomfortable. As one of our group walked past, there were hand gestures made behind her back and noises of disgust and derision. Not a pleasant feeling.
Anyhow, we walked through the no-mans land and into the border of Lesotho where we lined up for an entry stamp. We were in 2 lines, and just as it was my turn, the woman slammed the window shut and said “Sorry lady” and sat there. A guard brought up a black woman and the window opened a crack, the passport was grabbed and stamped and the window was slammed shut again. Myself and the couple of members of our group that were behind me just went to other line.
So that was eye-opening.
These are a few of the “stores” and homes on the Lesotho side of the border.
The scenery is nice, and the roads are in pretty decent shape until we take the turn off to head towards Malealea.
And yes, my bra straps literally kept falling off my shoulders. We ended up here, and stopped for a photo, it was not like any paradise that I have ever seen. The wind was so strong that a small kid would have blown away. My hair was like little tornadoes whirling around the top of my head. I feared that it was turning into dreadlocks instantly and I would never be able to get a brush though it again.
Then we headed down from the pass, and the road really wasn’t any better. We had been told that the resort was in the middle of nowhere, and it really was. But even though the landscape was dry and stark, it was also very beautiful. This phots does not do justice as to how high we were.
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