World Cup this; World cup that; but there is no denying it has dominated international news. Well, it dominated all activity in our home for the past week. You see, we went to watch the match between Japan and Paraguay in Pretoria.

Back to the noise and commotion: Most of the noise was coming from my wife who, having given up her ticket to her stepson, was a doomsayer of note. How are you going to cope with three kids in that huge crowd? Please take extra clothes. Don’t forget the industrial-strength ear protection. Where are you going to park? What are you going to eat? Watch out for those kidnappers. Drive safely. Don’t drink any of those American beers. Don’t take any bags because of those dreaded professional international pickpockets. Get there early because traffic is going to be a nightmare. Blah, blah, blah-de-blah.

Well, guess what? We got to Pretoria from Johannesburg in record time, without speeding, on the lovely widened highway. We parked within a kilometer of the stadium. The weather was perfect, as it is in South Africa in midwinter (18 degrees Celsius and not a breath of wind), so the 16 layers of clothing that my offspring wore were completely unnecessary.

Speaking of noise, my youngest daughter had been in training with her vuvuzela and was ready to contribute to the cacophony in the stadium. That was after I had explained the vuvu etiquette of not blowing the beautiful horn into the ears of her immediate neighbours in the stands. “Always at 45 degrees,” I told her, which resulted in one of those quizzical looks that only a 5-year can give. Fortunately our neighbours in the stands had ear protection.

And all the other issues that my wife raised? Well, the food and drink was expensive – but that was to be expected; the much-anticipated flood of pickpockets didn’t materialize; the traffic going home was manageable, I got the kids home without any serious damage and to cap it all, this was the first game that went to extra time and penalties. We certainly got our money’s worth.

It was one of the most memorable trips simply because it came at the right time, and we were treated to the very best that Africa has to offer. I’m talking about the peace and tranquility that is Africa, on one hand, juxtaposed with the instant violence of a ‘kill’ that we witnessed.

It is what Africa is all about: Nature at its best. The leopard we had spotted had been chased up a tree by a small herd of buffalo and while we sat watching her, as if by magic she slowly got up and moved out of sight behind the leaves and branches of a false Maroela tree and emerged with her lunch. If I didn’t know better I would thought she was sizing up the occupants of the game viewing vehicle we were in. She wasn’t. She was wondering whether or not it was safe to come down, once the buffalo had moved off, bored and confused because they could smell the leopard, but couldn’t find her.

We also saw the big five on one drive and the next evening we lucky enough to track a lion and lioness for nearly 1 hour, as they moved into their kill zone. And please tell me what is more frightening that hearing the two predators talk to each other announcing to their ‘dinner’ that they were on the way, with guttoral roars that vibrated through the vehicle we were in. This is Africa. Welcome…

Dateline Jozi: ‘Parked’ in my garden, watching the kids spend their first day of summer holidays late on a Friday afternoon, brought home one of the reasons I really, really, really love South Africa – the weather. Oh yes, and the fact that in a couple of hours we find out who Bafana will play in the opening game, and our fate for the rest of the tournament.

Having just beaten my way through wonderfully slow moving traffic to get to our haven, the thought and site of that first ‘frosty’ acted as a wonderful balm.  The balm effect started this morning with the social media platforms abuzz with FIFA fever, and this wasn’t only confined to Cape Town. It was everywhere, and has been all day.

I only have one concern. I can’t find my kids in the pool. One of the problems with living in Jozi is that the alkaline levels in the pool can change overnight with the lightening and thunder storms and the pool water goes from crystal clear to amazon green. In fact the gardener may well have attempted to mow the pool earlier…

Because of the road closures, my primary school buddy spent close to three hours trying to get to our hom. We were in constant mobile phone contact and I didn’t detect a note or hint of frustration – why? Well simply because as he put it – he really enjoyed the confusion. His wife – who happens to be my wife’s high school buddy – was less positive.

She couldn’t get enough of highlighting the issues that lead to their delay. With all due respect, if you had planned your trip you would have arrived the day before and avoided the closures. There are events in most major cities and the planning and public announcements start weeks and months in advance. As was the case in Jozi. People simply plan their lives around the event.

Why should it be different in Jozi? My friend also made this point. If it wasn’t for the road closures and their valiant attempts to get to our home, he wouldn’t have driven through various suburbs and had a chance to see how they had changed over the past 10 years.

And to put the cherry on the cake, the couple and their 11 year-old were treated to a spectacular Highveld thunderstorm, lightening, thunder and a good half an hour or lovely rain. Living on the edge of the desert in California, this is something they seldom see. We spent the rest of the day sipping South African sparkling wine, standing in the rain (once the lightening had passed), swimming and enjoying watching the South African cricket team giving the English team a lesson in bowling and batting. What a perfect Sunday in sunny and stormy South Africa.

As was the case in Port Elizabeth last week, again I found myself looking into people’s homes as I wondered past their cottages. A habit I could easily get used to. What also struck me was the can-do attitude of the region. Coincidentally the region is known as Camdeboo. I kid you not. Something I am embarrassed to say, I didn’t know, as a South African.

I was then quickly taught a couple of lessons about the region: It is the world’s leading producer of chicory; the second biggest citrus producer in the country and the country’s number two milk-producing region. And all in a place where the unemployment figure is an astounding 65%, according to the mayor of Ikwezi.

I was in Graaff-Reinet for the first international Mohair Summit, and got first hand experience and knowledge of the regions’ ‘white gold’, the Angora goat, which is responsible for providing mohair to fashion houses around the world. In fact this region of South Africa is considered the mohair capital of the world, with anything between 50% and 60% of the total mohair production coming from here.

And just in case you thought that was all there was to it, along came international trend forecaster Li Edelkoort and told the delegates that the time for Mohair was now. Edelkoort astounded the audience with her presentation and there were a couple of ruffled feathers when she suggested that perhaps too much attention was being paid to using only the very white mohair, that perhaps there was a place for some gray in the palette. She is one astounding woman. I also got to meet a wide range of people.

Can you imagine putting Angora goat farmers, the country’s leading ram breeders and South African fashion magazine editors in an enclosed space? Well I was there, it happened and everyone walked away a lot wiser about mohair and the entire production cycle. I walked away with a determination to sell up my 1000 square meters in ‘Jozi” and move to the area. Who knows, I may well do it.

If it wasn’t for a young lady shouting at me, I would have stood on and crushed four plover’s eggs. The ‘mommy’ plover had taken flight as more and more concert goers arrived, and disturbed her nesting area.

We made it our task to protect the eggs and the mommy. And we weren’t alone. Within a couple of minutes several concert goers gave up their chairs to form a protective ring around the eggs. Add a t-shirt and a couple of logs thrown in for good measure and we spent the next five hours warning passers-by to watch their step, with a little screech from the ployer and the eggs remained in fine fettle.

When we left at around 6,  the eggs and bird were safely ensconced behind a security fence. My heart was warmed by the collective goodwill shown towards the plover, and a young person who had just walked past, put it in a nutshell: “Amazing. That little bird has so many protectors here. I can’t believe what I’m seeing.”