Diary: Nothing to fear here

I haven't packed right for this. Four pairs of shorts and some flip flops redundant in my backpack as it starts snowing while we approach the Indian Ocean. But this is Africa, and the last few days have taught me to always expect the unbelievable.

Arriving at Johannesburg had been a taste of what was to come. Bright Dutch, moustachioed Mexicans, and beaming South African fans, known as Bafana Bafana, bringing their respective colours, sounds and dances to the arrivals hall.

English appeared thin on the ground and our group of six England fans were soon the attraction of the world's media. Had they mistaken us for celebrities? Hmmm. Or perhaps they'd never seen a 3-metre England flag emblazoned with the words ‘Yorkshire Puddings.'

Driving into Rustenburg safari camp in Tony Adams, our hire car renowned for its sluggish acceleration, South Africa hit me. Illuminated by the orange glow of sunset, a herd of springbok grazed in grassland that stretched far into the horizon. A baboon, clearly an England fan, sat on the road gobbling food stolen from an unwitting US fan. Zebras and leopards lurked just miles from the camp and within hours we were eating steak cooked on an open fire. Chants of Viva Bafana Bafana carried on into the night as everyone adopted South Africa as their second team.

To assist our immersion into the local culture, we had given ourselves African names. The following day, Stubboah, Bigoben and myself, Chief Blog, watched more than 80,000 people explode with pride as President Zuma and Sepp Blatter opened the tournament with the words "Welcome to the first World Cup in Africa."

Goosebumps covered my arms as the stadium erupted. Although the ubiquitous vuvuzela's have been criticised, they brought uniqueness to the atmosphere and sounded mightily impressive when honked in unison. And they're nowhere near as annoying when you're contributing to the noise as well as just listening. However, I am starting a sweepstake on the nationality of the first fan to wrap a vuvuzela around somebody's head... English is the odds on favourite.

Meanwhile in the Rustenburg fan park, Lobengwah, Mixomotosis and Jamanji had been commandeered by 18,000 South Africans. Kitted fully in yellow, they had immediately endeared themselves to the local faithful. You're from England? Yes. But you're supporting Bafana Bafana? Yes. Cue more bedlam, singing and dancing, which continued until the match kicked off and everyone sat down as if in a cinema.

Tension built as the crowd remained seated and silent throughout the game; Tshembalala relieving the pressure with the opening goal of the tournament. Back at Soccer City, after the stadium had finally calmed down, I asked the guy sitting next to me if Bafana Bafana had any chants we could get going. "We don't have chants, we just scream," he replied.

Screaming is exactly what we've been doing...and not just when Robert Green runs onto the pitch. Diving into the nearest bar to avoid the snow, we immediately started demonstrating pointless shows of machismo and challenging the locals to step up to the plate. You want tequila? Yes. Okay, then we'll do African kamikaze tequila. That doesn't sound good. Snort the salt, down the tequila, and squirt the lemon in your eye. I should have known.

South Africans just don't hold anything back. Spend a few minutes with one and you feel like you've been friends for years. Everything is done exuberantly and the brightness of their Bafana Bafana shirts is matched by the brightness of their character. As well as being approachable, they're also genuinely interested in you and where you come from. David, a local chef, told me that the world cup had made his dreams come true because he'd had the chance to meet people from all over the world.

Like others, he had a series of questions about our culture. What do we eat for breakfast? How is the weather? And do on. And like many other South Africans, he became apologetic when I answered. "You tell me all about your culture and what can I offer you," he replied. I wish they weren't so humble.

In the past week I've watched the opening game of a World Cup, stroked cheetah cubs, and seen black rhinos on safari. But all that has been secondary to the welcome and hospitality of the South African people.

Many South African's also feel strongly about what they view as the propaganda of the world's media in creating the image of a crime-ridden country unsafe to travel in. I don't have any stories of carjacking or theft here. A man did walk past us dragging an axe along the floor...but he was going to the forest.

The only threat has been from disgruntled fans stupidly venting their anger. This actually makes me feel safer. A lion starts charging two men. One of the men bends down, takes off his shoes and puts on his trainers. The other man says, "You'll never outrun a lion." "I know I won't" he replies, "but I'll out run you." I've seen enough over the past week to tell me that if there is any danger, a South African will give me some trainers and I'll pass a drunken European running the other way.