Head Wound in East London

Today we drove from Knysna to East London. More pretty landscape until we got close to East London. It seemed like the whole surrounding countryside was consumed in some kind of a brush fire or another. And it did not seem that anybody minded that 10 foot flames were right next to the highway.

Ben was pretty sure that the hotel we were staying in - augustly named the King David Hotel - had a pool. It did not. The person at the desk said that a sister hotel down the street did have a pool. They called ahead and confirmed that we could use it. The kids were SO excited. We changed into our swimming suits and walked a half-mile down the street to the other hotel. When we finally found the entrance, we went to the desk and asked to use the pool. Of course, they said, and showed us where it was and brought us towels. They neglected to tell us that it was not heated, which meant that it was freeeeeeezing cold. Marin and Sophia, true to form, being the champs they are, were determined to make the best of it. Then, Sophia, slipped on the edge of the pool and hit her head on the corner of a poolside tile. A gash opened up and blood came flowing out. Ben scooped her up and brought her into the bathroom to find some paper towels. Even though she was crying, Sophia insisted she still wanted to go into the pool, but by that time nobody's heart was really in it anymore. Brooke and Ben considered whether she needed medical attention, but the wound stopped bleeding as much and they decided it was not necessary (that proved to be the right decision).

They walked back to their own hotel along the Esplanade as the sun set and Marin used a new word: "thwarted." Such had been our attempt to use a pool. We have since found that many hotels have pools and none of them are heated, making them unusable in the winter months during which we are here. As the Stones sang it, "You can't always get what you want."

We had Chinese food that night, thanks to Brooke's keen ability to spot what the rest of us would otherwise overlook. The next morning we tried to find a bakery listed in one of our guidebooks to no avail. Hence, the word to describe our stay in East London remains "thwarted."