The wonder of wandering

Whenever I travel, I always pack two items of clothing: a swimming costume and takkies. No matter where I am I seem to always be in search of a body of water to swim in or a garden or forest or park where I can walk. Walking and swimming are an opportunity to experience place and space differently; an opportunity to wander and wonder.

I don’t remember when I first noticed my desire for gardens when travelling. Perhaps it was the first time I went to Central Park in New York and my sister and I spent the afternoon wandering around taking pictures. Every time I have found myself in New York since then I make time to wander around Central Park with fresh eyes and possibly find a corner I hadn’t seen before. When I visited New York earlier this year it was almost spring and the flowers were returning despite the stubborn, crisp winter’s air. I allowed myself to wonder and wander and forget about time.

Perhaps my love for green spaces in cities began when I read about Wangari Maathai’s activism and the Green Belt Movement in her autobiography Unbowed. When I visited Nairobi, I made sure to visit Karura Forest, a green belt in the middle of the city. It was one thing to read about the activism that had gone into protecting spaces such as Karura forest, but it was another to wander through it knowing that it was a hard-won victory; that it even exists. Perhaps that’s why I seek out green spaces and water in cities: they aren’t guaranteed and always seem to be under threat from an ever-expanding concrete jungle.

I was in London recently where a long-lost friend and I made a plan to see each other. After lunch we still had some time before she had to go back to work. I suggested we find some gardens and parks. The flowers were in full bloom and even though it was cloudy and chilly, we found ourselves in Victoria Embankment Gardens and St James’s Park. There is something edifying about walking aimlessly and talking easily through beautiful spaces — which is why it’s so necessary.

When I was in Uganda, a friend introduced me to a garden. It is a well-kept secret on a slope in Kampala. My friend introduced me to the gardener — a custodian of beauty. The gardener gifted us with some “lange-lange”, commonly known as ylang-ylang, which is famous for its sweet smell and used in the making of various essential oils and fragrances and for medicinal purposes. While in Entebbe I visited Botanical Gardens Entebbe which abuts a hotel and the lake. The garden is more forest than garden and I saw a Colobus monkey (mantled guereza) for the first time. I was tickled to see monkeys that weren’t the common vervet.

I now consciously seek out green spaces and water in every city. It has become something of a ritual for me to swim, even if it’s just once, when I am far from home. If all else fails, a hotel pool will suffice. But more often than not I am lucky. Thanks to google maps I can easily find my way around and strangers are always more than happy to help when I am lost. When I found myself at Amsterdamse Bos, I almost swam in the wrong section. A stranger redirected me to the more festive section with swimmers and people lounging about enjoying the summer. It was the perfect way to end a wonderful trip filled with jazz and friends.

Whenever I am in Johannesburg, James and Ethel Gray Park has become somewhat of a ritual where friends and I meet for a walk. I have always bemoaned never seeming to to make the most of the green spaces in Johannesburg when I lived there. The truth is there was always the lurking question of safety which, sadly, isn’t guaranteed in our country.

Walking also takes me back to my childhood when I first experienced the joy of wondering. When we first moved to the suburbs in the early 1990s many early evenings were spent walking about our new neighbourhood. Moseying about, deciding which road to use or discovering which route was the most pleasurable family experience; a moment of escape from the humdrum and even the burdens that seemed to weigh on us as a result of being in a new and unfamiliar place. Walking made the new environment familiar and we insisted on being there despite the palpable sense of not being welcome at times.

Walking in parks creates a sense of ease and intimacy and physical safety is central to the experience. There’s something about the pause that it allows and the conversation while walking — which always seems to have a different texture of delight.