Naturally my first stop in Johannesburg was the South African Brewers' "World of Beer" museum. But it wasn't entirely because beer is a high priority for me. A lot of it just had to do with the fact that I was hopelessly lost. When I landed in this city I was exceedingly proud of myself--I got my rental car and made it to my hostel with uncanny ease. It was a more seamless travel experience than I usually have at home in LA.
My ego inflated, I decided to head out for my first afternoon of sightseeing. I knew vaguely that the downtown part of Johannesburg had some interesting sights, plus I had theater tickets in that area for that night, so I decided to start there. I used the location of the beer museum just to get me started with an address to type into a google search and left with those directions in hand.
My troubles began when I couldn't figure out how to get out to the hotel's gated driveway. My troubles continued when half the roads I needed to find we're unmarked and the other half had undergone name changes--a noble effort to erase the ghosts of colonialism, but a major impediment to my map reading.
I managed to get from my hotel to downtown, but then I was faced with crazy pedestrians, buses, one- way streets, and roadside hawkers. You might say I was overwhelmed. When I had reached the point when my google directions became completely meaningless, I found a gas station to pull over in and start toiling with the rental company-provided GPS. (Maybe I should have done that in the first place.) I told GPS the address of the beer museum having nothing else to offer her at this point. In her calming, dulcet tone, she directed me there. As she soothingly said that we had arrived at our destination, a toothless man jumped right in front of my car.
You see, in South Africa, they don't have parking meters, they just have guys who stand around on the sidewalk and watch your car. Apparently, they also aggressively urge you to park with them. Not having driven a car in an urban center very much yet, I did not know this and was completely terrified when the man started yelling something in my window. I don't know how he could tell I was a tourist initially, but when I cowered in fear and started shaking my head, I'm sure it confirmed all of his suspicions about me. He charged me what I am certain is way way too much, but I nearly ran him over getting into the space, so I didn't feel like I was in a position to argue.
At this point I was right in front for the beer museum and had lost all interest in exploring this neighborhood on foot. What I needed, as indicated by my palpitating heart and crazy eyes, was a drink. So into the beer museum I went.
I've been to the Guinness museum in Dublin and I grew up in microbrewtown, USA, so I feel pretty solid on my understanding of the whole hops plus barley process, but I did learn a thing or two at the "World of Beer." The Disneyesque exhibit walks you through African tribal beer making traditions then the European process as introduced by colonists. I learned that black South Africans weren't allowed to buy any "European" alcohol until 1962, so even beer had a dark history with Apartheid. The end of the tour came with a much needed TWO free drinks, though oddly, they had nothing on tap. I got a free souvenir glass then forgot to take it with me.
After beers and a pretty decent veggie burger I found my way to the theater. The play--a musical about five men in an Apartheid era prion--was fantastic. The parking was free.
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