There are hundreds of ways to take a safari, but my family's route seemed easiest for a few reasons: By splitting the trip between the game reserve and Cape Town, we wouldn't be banking too heavily on the safari (what if the kids got bored after a day?). Also, Kwandwe was the most doable park we found—it wasn't too remote, and it didn't require us to get shots or take malaria pills (which can induce hallucinations!). At Kwandwe, everything's taken care of; Cape Town, of course, requires more navigating. Here, a guide to everything you need to know.
Africa has always been a "maybe, if we're lucky, someday we'll go there" kind of place for my family. My daughters—Jo, 12, and Louisa, 7—are good travelers, and Africa appealed to us in a worldview-expanding, even life-changing way. But it seemed too remote, too daunting. (Exactly how long would the girls have to sit on a plane?) When the opportunity arose to turn my husband's business trip to Cape Town into a family vacation, however, we overcame our hesitations and went for it. And as long as we were traveling all that way, we figured we had to add on a safari and see the best of the beasts.
As it turns out, our biggest fear—19 hours on a plane—was overblown. The girls watched movies and slept the whole time. Once in South Africa, we spent our first few days wandering around Cape Town, a seaside city with 3,563–foot Table Mountain as its backdrop. As we explored the mini metropolis, our feelings seesawed between Hmm, this seems sort of Western and We're not in Kansas anymore. One morning we bought swimsuits at a waterfront mall that could have been in California, but then a half hour later, the girls were splashing in the Indian Ocean with wild penguins. On another day, we picked up fabrics and jewelry at a craft market in the walkable downtown, then spent the afternoon outside the city at Spier vineyard, where the kids got to pet a cheetah (for about $1.50 per person) and my husband and I got to sip local chenin blanc.
On the morning of day four, we left the city and were on safari by lunchtime. We had chosen Kwandwe, a 49,000-acre game reserve and hotel, because it looked like far more than a glorified zoo—which is not true of all parks—yet was still relatively close to Cape Town (a one-hour flight and a two-hour drive—not bad, in a country larger than Texas). The reserve also exudes a family-friendly vibe, allowing children older than 5 on game drives and offering other kids' activities as well, from nature walks to cooking lessons.
At reception, in an 1830s farmhouse that looked as if it had been beamed over from England, we were greeted with lemonade and cookies. Then we were off to Kwandwe's Ecca Lodge, a compound of six cabins; our suite was casually posh but not over the top. While Jo dipped her toes in our private plunge pool, Louisa squealed over her safari swag bag, with its bug-collecting jar and a letter from "Happy Hippo & All Creatures of Kwandwe." From then on, she didn't make a move without her animal checklist.
After a quick lunch of guinea-fowl wraps (there's also a 15-item children's menu that includes chicken skewers and spaghetti), it was game-drive time. The kids bumped along in the back of the jeep, grinning widely and scanning the fields in a wild game of I Spy. Nothing can prepare you for watching a giraffe munch the treetops above your head or for staring straight at a rhino bull in the bush; I was as awestruck as my daughters. Between sightings of the "big five"—lions, elephants, water buffalo, leopards, and rhinos—our ranger, Paul, and his assistant, Digby, kept the girls engaged and entertained. Paul told us about the perky antelope called springbok; when they jump, it's called "pronking." He swore that the white markings on their backsides smell like butterscotch. And midway through the drive, the rangers pulled over and set up a full bar, complete with linens and glasses, plus hot chocolate with pink marshmallows for the girls.
The next day, barking baboons and roaring lions served as our alarm, waking us at 5 a.m., just in time for our morning game drive. Later the grown-ups took turns getting in-room massages while the kids pronked in the pool. That evening, Ranger Graeme showed us how to locate the Southern Cross among the zillion stars in the African sky. Jo and Louisa barely made it through a dinner of steak with samp, a local corn dish, before falling asleep. We fit in one last drive the following morning—our fourth in 48 hours—and were back in Cape Town in time for a cable-car ride up Table Mountain for "sundowners" (cocktails).
Now that we're home, the trip is the girls' favorite topic of dinner-table conversation. They talk about the guides' nicknames (Potato and Wee Man), how to make warthog tracks in the sand (make a fist and push down with the first two knuckles), and swimming with penguins. Amazingly, Africa has now become both an "if we're lucky" and a "next time we go there" kind of place.
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