Johannesburg, of course, has a fearsome reputation for crime. Our friend, Abe, told us it was not as bad as it used to be, and said he could even drive around in the central city during the day if he wanted. However, he said it was too risky to take us there, so we had to content ourselves with this view from the freeway:
The northern suburbs look much like Pasadena, except for the eight-foot-high walls topped with electric fences that surround every home:
Many homes even have private guard shacks outside the gate:
It is so bad that even Nelson Mandela now lives behind fortifications like these rather than among his people. Home invasions and carjackings are the main dangers; gated communities are set up to make it difficult both for burglars to get in and for car thieves to get out with their loot. And even in fairly distant suburbs, you see signs like this:
There is another nightmarish aspect to the city, as well. It was founded on gold mines and even close to downtown is still dotted with giant slag heaps:
This, at least, is being addressed. Apparently new technology makes it possible to go through the slag and extract significant amounts of gold that the old miners missed, so much of the slag is being slowly carted away for reprocessing.
I don't want to leave the impression that Jo'burg is nothing but nasty, though. We did have fun at a gay bar there, as well as a couple of good meals. If you've got money, you can live very well, at places like the poolside bar of the Hotel Westcliff:
And while Nelson Mandela apparently must fear street crime like any ordinary citizen, he has lent his name (willingly or not) to a brand new upscale shopping mall in a white neighborhood, surely the ultimate mark of economic and political reconciliation:
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