Namibia - what the phoque?

Places that are remote and empty have their own special kind of beauty. Iceland was one such place that evoked a sense of awe by its emptiness. Namibia is another, and I've always wanted to go there, to experience the vast nothingness and the Kalahari desert and the biodiversity and the Atlantic crashing onto Swakopmund or the Skeleton Coast.

Namibia, the "land of the brave", could also be another planet altogether - the earth is raw and rich with minerals - diamonds, copper, gold, zinc, uranium... while the Benguela Current that it straddles on the Atlantic provides one of the world's richest fishing grounds.

^ Garnet dust and other minerals and sand

"Windhoek", the capital city, already made me think of strong gusts of wind that blow you away (in reality there's much debate about the origin of the name, and whether it has anything to do with wind at all).

The city centre in Windhoek is clean, orderly, and I really had the impression, at times, that I was walking through a toy town... although at times I expected a typical suburb karen to come out and call the cops - after all, this country does wrestle with a complex history and the aftermath of apartheid and racial, linguistic and ethnic divides. The Christus Kirche, for instance, a German-built Lutheran church, looks like a gingerbread house with icing. Houses are small and cute and there's a strange fixation on ... guinea fowl.

After the cute little craft market, I went to see the famous Gibeon meteorites. About 600 million years ago, in prehistoric times, a meteorite crashed into earth, in the place that would later be known as Namibia. Although local people used fragments of the meteorite as spear points and other tools, it was of course "discovered" in 1838 when its existence was officially reported back to Europe...

Today, fragments of the meteorite are on display in the city centre, and it is awe-inspiring to be in the presence of something so ancient, something that has hurtled through space for so long before crashing into our planet. That it should be displayed so openly, so mundanely, is so strange to me. Then again, we are on a piece of rock that has existed for 4.5 billion years and is hurtling through space around a fiery ball of fire and we rarely take the time to acknowledge how fantastical that is.

As you drive towards Swakopmund, the landscape changes. The crisp blue sky turns grey with mist and clouds rolling as the Atlantic appears - it is quite impressive (not surprising that they filmed Mad Max Fury Road here). This is literally the land where the desert meets the ocean... and here, the cold air of the Benguela Current meets the hot air of the Hadley cell, and the ensuing dramatic fog provides moisture to the otherwise arid country - it's amazing to see how the plant ecosystem has adapted to this unique climate.

Swakopmund itself is a sleepy, quiet little town; traditional German houses in pastel hues blend against the gray sky. And it's so empty. It was established as a harbour for the German colonisers in the late 19th century, but eventually developed as a holiday resort town.

More toy town vibes.

The cold, dark Atlantic contrasts with the twee houses.

My curiosity about diving in Namibia soon fizzled out.

But I wanted to be out on the water, and for some inexplicable reason, found myself freezing my fingers on a boat at 7am while pelicans swooped in to snap up some fish that the skipper held up as bait.

Surprisingly, pelicans aren't very aggressive... at least these ones weren't. They were simply hyperfocused on their fish.

And we had other guests too: adorable seals!

Imagine the shock when I turned round and saw this fella peeking at me.

Can you see the line on his neck? That, and a broken eye, are the result of discarded fishing gear that he got entangled in.

The flippers are freaky, methinks.

We cruised by Pelican Point, where thousands and thousands of seals were frolicking and doing seal things, some of them playfully swimming up to the boat. There's a lighthouse, and apparently a lodge for anyone who wishes to stay in this mysterious location - the rooms do look pretty amazing, but can go for £350 a night. This place was also the site of a tragedy last year, when over 7000 seals and baby seals were found dead here, likely as a result of starvation and climate change. Then again, Namibia does remain one of the few countries that hunts seals, albeit with a quota within a certain window in the year, for their pelts and for other parts used in traditional medicines in Asian markets.

At one point, I was sipping on some bubbly, trying to get warmer, and out of the blue, a baby seal (6 months old) attempted to climb over me - there was a bucket of fish behind me and I was in the way so he just tried to overcome the obstacle...

I would have happily stayed longer in Namibia and worked from here but then the omicron panic hit. My heart went out to the tourism sector workers who had fear and panic in their eyes - they couldn't afford another lockdown, they simply wouldn't survive. I had planned to go to the Kalahari and work from some peaceful lodge and try to see the meerkats but instead decided to head back to Addis amid the panic and uncertainty.

Back in Windhoek, I chose a lodge which seemed close-ish to the airport, but actually wasn't. It wasn't very luxurious but had a deck overlooking the beautiful hills and absolute silence. It was so peaceful.

Utter, blissful silence.

I watched the sun go down, and the sunrise was equally gorgeous.

There's far too much I haven't seen of Namibia; the Kalahari desert, the dunes, the sand-eaten mining town and tree graveyard, the MEERKATS. I'll simply have to add it to my growing list of places to come back to.