The ABC’s of South Africa’s Eccentricities

A is for Alcohol Laws. In South Africa grocery stores sell wine but not beer. I’m more partial to beer than wine, so it has been a bit of a pain in the butt, but it isn’t the worst thing in the world.

B is for Bare Feet. Locals frequently walk around the city barefoot. What really cooks my noodle is the fact that most of the barefoot people are well-off. I’ve seen students at the university walk to class barefoot, and tons of kids come into the museum barefoot. The kids aren’t dressed shabby; most of them are actually wearing nice pants and shirts. Do these parents not realize that the streets and sidewalks are strewn with broken glass, dog doo and trash?!?!? None of these people are carrying shoes either. I really wish I could have gotten a picture of the moron I saw riding a Harley-Davidson motorcycle barefoot.

C is for Construction. The entire city is a construction site because of the upcoming 2010 World Cup. In an odd way it kind of makes the city feel just like UNC…

D is for Doors and Windows Open Constantly. Doors and windows here are open constantly. Even in the dead of winter people keep their doors and windows open. I’m guessing if I tried the “Shut the door, were you born in a barn?” line with some of the locals they’d probably just look at me with blank faces.

E is for Evading Work as soon as it Reaches 80 Degrees Outside. People stop working once it gets warm here in Cape Town.  Most people take leave for a month between December and January, and many businesses shut down entirely. Also, the Capetonian idea of “warm” is closer to what Wisconsinites think is warm than what North Carolinians consider to be warm.

F is for Fencing. Because of the extreme violence in the 1980s and the ubiquitous crime today, almost all South African properties are walled in with security gates. Most walls have either spikes or barbed wire, but some of the fancier walls have electrified fencing at the top. I’m looking forward to going home and being able to actually see houses and businesses from the street.

G is for Glass. There is broken glass everywhere. A few days ago I made the mistake of looking at the bottom of my Tevas. Sigh… so much for bringing them home. (Also, let me remind you that people regularly walk around town barefoot.) I’ve had to pull out glass from my bike tires, and riding around here makes me uber-nervous because a spill would mean road rash and the obliterated remains of a beer bottle embedded in my skin. I will never take clean streets for granted ever again.

H is for Heat. South African buildings do not have heat. The world is in for a bit of a nasty surprise come next June and July when everybody comes here for the World Cup during the middle of the South African winter, only to find out that the buildings don’t have heat. The Brazillian fans are going to freeze to death, no kidding.

I is for “I’ll be with you now,” the most infuriating phrase in South African lingo. While the rest of the world interprets “now” to mean “now,” South Africans use it to mean “in just a minute.”

J is for Juice. Almost all juice in South Africa is a blend or cocktail. Because all of the juice is mixed, it all tends to taste the same. Bummer.

K is for Kids Not Buckled. Seat belt laws do not exist in South Africa, and I am frequently freaked out when I see small children crawling all around their parents cars while their parents are nonchalantly driving down the highway. Also disturbing is the number of infant car seats I’ve seen buckled in the front passenger seat. The scary sight that really takes the cake is the small child I saw standing up and leaning out of her parents’ sunroof while the car was in motion.

L is for Lame Commercials. Watch five minutes of South African television and you are guaranteed to see at least one incredibly lame commercial. Some of my favorite horrid commercials here include all alcohol ads, the Kinder Joy commercial with the overdone emotions, the Magnum Ice Cream bar commercial with sexual innuendos, and any and all life insurance/ funeral insurance ads sponsored by soccer teams. (I’m not kidding about that last one.) South Africa: Where Bad Commercials Go To Die.

M is for Minibus Taxis. The majority of locals take “taxis” to work. The taxis are large vans that can fit 15 people (legally) in them and often more. The taxi drivers are ruthless and frequently have a sidekick who leans out the window and whistles and screams the end destination of the taxi (i.e. “LANGA, LANGA, LANGA”), moreover these sidekicks are not beyond harassing people to get in their taxi. Many drivers have taken it upon themselves to pimp their rides – rims, subwoofers, TVs and window graphics are common accessories. The taxi union is the chief reason why Cape Town and other large municipalities in South Africa do not have extensive, reliable public transportation. Google “taxi wars in South Africa” for some crazy stuff to read.

N is for Noon Gun. Every day at noon they fire off a cannon on top of Signal Hill in Cape Town. It is an interesting way to notify the city it is 12 pm.

O is for Obsessed About the 2010 FIFA World Cup. Almost every day the front-page headlines have something to do with the World Cup next summer. Everything has to do with 2010 here – it’s crazy. I really wonder what is going to happen when the World Cup is over and done… South Africans are going to have nothing to talk about or look forward to.

P is for Pricing Internet by the Megabyte. South Africa is the only country in the world where internet is priced by the megabyte. It’s utterly inefficient and a huge pain in the neck to have to pay for internet this way. All of the foreigners I’ve encountered share my exasperation with the megabyte pricing. The amount of internet needed to download one episode of Mad Men from iTunes (not including the price of the episode, just the internet) is about $60 USD. Needless to say, I have big plans for my return to unlimited internet, including catching up on the most recent season of Mad Men!

Q is for Quirky Locals. The punk hipster is in vogue in Cape Town. I have seen wayyyy too many South African males in skinny jeans during my time here. The Capetonians my age love their Tab soda, cigarettes, skinny jeans, black eye makeup and Converse shoes.

R is for Ridiculously Bad Mexican Food. During our first few weeks here a handful of us went out for Mexican. Big mistake. South Africans may think they’re eating Mexican food when they dine at “Mexican Café” on Long Street, but they are wrong. We should have known we were in for a bad night when the “salsa” they brought was sweet tomato chutney. The menu was hilarious – I should have saved one to bring home and shock all of you guys. If anybody wants to make big bank, come to Cape Town and open a real Mexican restaurant – you’ll make millions. I am soooooooo looking forward to getting home and getting some El Dorado, Chubbys, Moe’s, Pancho’s and the other dozen delicious places I’ve been dreaming about lately.

S is for Street Urchins. The situation is unbelievably sad, but also really annoying when you have to walk through it every day.

T is for Ties. Cape Town is a pretty dressed-down nation. I think I’ve seen maybe five guys wearing ties since I got here 3+ months ago. I’m in for some culture shock when I fly into Dulles Int’l Airport where every male traveler is wearing a tie…

U is for Urchin Change. If you think the penny is annoying, wait until you get to South Africa and experience the utterly useless yet pervasive 10, 20 and 50 cent pieces. Like I’ve said before, the only good use for these worthless coins is placating street urchins.

V is for Vida e Caffe. Vida e Caffe is the closest thing to Starbucks here in Cape Town. The chain is based in Brazil and all of the stores have a strong Brazilian theme: really loud samba music, menu in Portuguese, the coffee sizes are all in Portuguese and the baristas all greet customers with “hola!” The funny thing is that when the baristas aren’t greeting customers or taking orders, they’re all speaking rapid Xhosa among themselves.

W is for Windsuits. What we in the United States call “students,” South Africans call “learners.” All South African “learners” wear school uniforms. The uniforms the kids wear during the warmer months are pretty typical, but during the winter months the kids wear tracksuits in their school colors. Think 90s windsuit and you have what the entire under-18 population wears for 4-5 months of the year…

X is for x-ing. Best wishes to all pedestrians in Cape Town.

Y is for young people. South Africa is a young country. One can read in textbooks and articles about the demographics, but it doesn’t really hit home until you get here and see it for yourself.

Z is for Zebra. Within one hour of arriving in Cape Town I spotted a Zebra in the nature reserve next to one of the major interstates. Anne Marie and I were the only ones in the van, and we were both somewhat dazed and confused from the new environs and all of the travelling, when we spotted the zebra chilling by the road. “Is that a zebra?” “Um, yeah…”

Musings on a Sunday Morning

Sunday mornings are special. As I kid I would dread getting out of bed on Sunday mornings because then I was that much closer to 11:30 mass and having sit and listen to Father David drone on and on and on for what felt like an eternity in my kid mind. Then again, my kid mind (and stomach) knew that Sunday mornings held the promise of a delicious breakfast: crème brulee French toast, blueberry pancakes, waffles or something else amazing made by my mother. On those rare occasions my mom didn’t make something for Sunday breakfast, my siblings and I would groan and moan, but we’d be sharply reminded by our dad that our mom was not our personal chef.

Before breakfast on Sunday mornings my brother and I would watch Sportscenter. Most kids watch cartoons on weekends; my brother and I watched sports highlights. After the advent of the Playstation we’d spend our Sunday mornings completely absorbed in FIFA, Madden or 007. Eventually my sister was old enough to play, and then we’d spend our Sunday mornings watching the clock and waiting for our turn on the Playstation.

It’s an unspoken rule, but the time between Sunday breakfast and church in the Moakley house is reserved for my dad to commandeer the entire living room and listen to his music. Sometimes the music is of questionable taste – one memorable morning my father decided to listen to Tubular Bells, possibly the worst and weirdest collection of music known to mankind, and my mom actually asked him to turn it off, it was THAT bad – but for the most part my dad has good taste and will put in a classic rock album or some jazz.

Often while my dad listened to his music I’d spread out on the living room floor with the Sunday paper. One of my earliest memories is of reading Calvin and Hobbes. My mom can testify to the fact that when I was in 1^st grade I was crazy about Calvin and Hobbes. Gradually my interest expanded from the comics to the other sections of the paper. Nowadays my family jokes that a new Sunday morning tradition is for me to whine about how terrible the News and Observer is, but let’s not kid ourselves – I do that every morning at home.

In high school Sunday mornings meant long runs at Bond Park or Umstead with the cross-country team. During my first years in college Sunday mornings were my most productive time of the week; I’d get work done while waiting for my friends to rise from their slumbers. Eventually we’d make the pilgrimage to Ram’s Head for brunch and recall the crazy stories from the night before. These days I go out for long, solo rides on Sundays: just me, my thoughts and my bike. When I get back from my ride my brother almost always has a new bag of coffee beans from Crema that he’s excited about trying, and my sister will usually be in bed and avoiding the kitchen at all costs – Sunday morning is her day to empty the dishwasher.

As I write this I am trying to do my best to re-create the Sunday morning vibe of home. I’m in my pajamas and I’m listening to Kind of Blue, but it just isn’t the same. This last week has been the low point for many of us here in Cape Town. Most of us have completed our South African “bucket lists” with the exception of the Garden Route road trip next weekend, our final hurrah. The atmosphere in the house is a mixture of homesickness and stress about our final assignments. The lousy weather hasn’t helped. I was out on the bike for a total of 45 minutes yesterday before rain and wind forced me back. I’ve spent most of the weekend reading Grapes of Wrath and pouring over sources for my final project. Last night I watched Hero and read more of Grapes of Wrath. Today the weather is still lousy and I’ll probably spend the day reading more Grapes of Wrath and pretending to do some work on my final project.

Only in the absence of things does one being to realize their true importance. During my NOLS course we all realized how much we appreciated simple comforts like non-dehydrated food, showers and toilet paper. We craved contact outside of our little group of 14; after a month of no contact with the outside world I was so happy to see my mother in the airport I had to fight back tears. (I also had to fight back tears at lunch that day at El Dorado over the joy of eating an enchilada, but that’s another story.)  Here in Cape Town the experience is a little different; we have most of our creature comforts and contact with our friends and family. But while I can talk to my family and exchange e-mails and pictures, it just isn’t the same. The absence of lazy Sunday mornings with the family has helped me realize why they are so enjoyable.

When people ask me if I’m glad I came to Cape Town for the semester I tell them “yes,” and rattle off different sights I’ve been able to see, or I talk about some of my weird experiences around the town. However, the best experience of the past few months has been the absence of “home.” It’s fitting that I’m going to be getting home early on a Sunday morning – I’m looking forward to spending a lazy Sunday with my family, fighting off jet lag with their company and a cup or two of good coffee.

A Week of Cities, A Day of Animals

Last week was our fall break trip to Johannesburg, Pretoria and Kruger National Park. We spent most of the week in Johannesburg where we went to the Apartheid Museum and the Hector Pieterson Memorial and Museum in Soweto, a township in Johannesburg. For those of you who don’t know, Johannesburg is South Africa’s largest city and financial capital; moreover JoBurg is a major business hub for the entire continent. Unfortunately crime is a huge problem in Johannesburg, so tourist-ing is quite dangerous; we drove through the downtown area, but walking around was out of the question. Carjackings are epidemic in JoBurg – there are signs posted at intersections throughout the city that say “High crime area: hang up your phone and concentrate.”

The two museums were the coolest activities we did in Johannesburg. Some people did a fair amount of shopping while we were there, but I didn’t – I’m not much of a shopper as many of you at home know. However, I did use one of our trips to the Johannesburg malls to finally see Inglorious Basterds, the most recent Quentin Tarantino movie, and I enjoyed it.

JoBurg and Pretoria are big cities with traffic and drab buildings. The purple jacaranda trees are in bloom at this time of year, so the flowers added a bit of beauty to our time in JoBurg and Pretoria, but at the end of the day they’re still just big cities. However, Kruger National Park was really special. We only had a day to spend in Kruger, but it was by far my favorite part of the trip. On Friday we went for a guided game drive through the park and we spotted four of South Africa’s “Big Five.” The “Big Five” refers to the five biggest predators (formerly the five biggest hunting prizes) in South Africa: lions, elephants, rhinos, leopards, and buffalo. Most people have to spend multiple days game-viewing to spot the Big Five, but we were lucky enough to see four during our one day in the park. Unfortunately my favorite large predator, the lion, was the only one we didn’t get to spot, largely because of the lousy weather – it was cold and drizzly, who can blame the lions for avoiding the weather? We saw plenty of other animals too: warthogs, zebra, impala, kudu, water buck, klipspringers, vervet monkeys and giraffe too. Not to brag, but I evidently have a knack for spotting animals – just ask any of my buddies here. Maybe if the job market doesn’t improve back in the States I can just come back and work as a safari guide in a park or reserve here…

Because I didn’t get to see a lion, I have a good reason to come back to Africa and do a real, multi-day safari someday. The ecosystems across Africa are quite varied, and I’d like to explore somewhere other than South Africa. I’d love to see Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe, explore the dunes in Namibia or go for a walking safari in Tanzania. I’m not sure if I will ever have the opportunity to come back to South Africa again, so I’ve been making every effort to get through my list of sites to see and things to do here. Last night a handful of us hiked up Lion’s Head to watch the sunset and full moon rise; we hiked back down using the moonlight and our flashlights to guide the way. Some of us will be road tripping along the famous Garden Route soon, and I hope to put my feet in the Indian Ocean before I return home.

I’ll be home in less than five weeks. My time here in Cape Town has been a good experience, and I’m glad I took advantage of the opportunity – it’s not often one gets to go to Africa and have a scholarship to fund it. I know if I hadn’t come to Cape Town or studied abroad I would have kicked myself ten years down the road. But while 80 degrees in November and my bike rides along the beautiful coastline are nice perks here, I miss my family and friends at home.

To end this post I have some bad news: I won’t be uploading any more pictures until I get home. I have hundreds of photos to upload, but the connection here in South Africa is mind-boggling slow. Rather than spending money and hours of my time uploading pictures, I’ll do it for free and in less than an hour when I get home on December 6th. Think of it this way: for those of you taking exams in December you’ll have a nice distraction to procrastinate with then

The Great Shark Hunt

Spring is in full swing here. Last weekend a few of us went to Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens to walk around and look at all of the awesome flowers and fynbos in bloom. Other touristy activities as of late include shark cage diving, which was a bit of a fiasco. The company we went with came on recommendation to us, but the experience was well below-par. The boat the company used was essentially a tugboat, and the boat ride was VERY rough. About half of the passengers got seasick; thankfully I have a strong stomach and didn’t contribute to the puke fest. If I did it again I’d definitely go with a different company. While I’m glad I went, and it was really cool to see a great white shark from a foot away, I probably won’t do it again. Snorkeling is way cooler. If you have the chance, you should check out my shark cage diving pictures on my Picasa photo album.

Tomorrow morning I’m flying to Johannesburg with the group for our mid-semester break trip. While I’m not overly enthused about Johannesburg (once you’ve seen one city, you’ve seen them all), later in the week we will be journeying to Kruger National Park and do some animal watching, which is more my kind of thing. Hopefully I’ll get to see some lions and zebra. Ideally I’d get to see a lion eat a zebra, but I’m not going to get my hopes up.

I haven’t been able to do too much blogging lately because I’ve been busy biking. Bringing my bike to South Africa was the best move I’ve ever made. I’ve been getting off of work in the early afternoon lately, so I’ve finally been able to get in some weekday riding in addition to my normal weekend routine. On Sunday I finally had the chance to do Chapman’s Peak Drive, which is kind of like South Africa’s version of Maui’s scenic drive out to the Hana Falls. The scenery along Chapman’s Peak Drive is incredible: crystal blue waters and plunging cliffs. The route involves a lot of climbing, but the views are well worth the effort.

Everyday Happenings in Cape Town

I haven’t been able to blog lately because I’ve been busy tourist-ing and paper-writing. Last weekend I went to my first rugby match and had a good time. On Sunday (10/4) we went as a group to Robben Island, which is where Nelson Mandela spent 18 of his 27 years as a political prisoner. Both adventures were quite cool and I’ve posted pictures to my Picasa page if you’re curious.

The Company Gardens continue to be a constant source of entertainment and blog material. Last week Danielle and I were walking through the Gardens at 10:30 in the morning and passed through a giant dagga cloud that covered most of the Gardens. Dagga, pronounced “da-hah,” is the local term for marijuana. On Wednesday a homeless person was sleeping on top of an abstract sculpture installation outside of the South African National Gallery. Not next to the sculpture – on top of the sculpture. I’m beginning to wonder how much “tidying up” can get done before the World Cup next June.

Don’t get me wrong though – I still enjoy eating lunch in the Gardens, the scenery beats my office inside the museum. I usually try to sit near the families, so as to avoid the homeless people. The one downside to eating near the families is that their small children are always feeding the birds and squirrels, which means that after the family leaves, the urban wildlife comes over to me and bothers me for food. Last week a small boy fed a squirrel out of his hands (a separate blog post is needed to comment on some of the lax parenting I’ve witnessed here), and then after his family left the squirrel proceeded to come and sit on the bench INCHES from me and sniff my stuff in search of food. I tried sweeping the squirrel away with my book, but the squirrel merely moved to the top of the bench and positioned himself to jump into my unzipped backpack. At that point I decided to call it a lunch and go back to my office. The last thing I need here in South Africa is rabies.

Another interesting lunch moment occurred last week when a man came up to me and asked if he could take a picture of me with his children, a boy and a girl, both under the age of 6. I have heard of this happening in other countries, but I was a bit surprised for it to happen here in South Africa. I said yes, and smiled with his kids for the picture. The man spoke only a little bit of English and his kids spoke no English at all. I waved goodbye and smiled to them as they left and the kids waved back, which was pretty cool. I’m not sure if they wanted a picture with me because I was a foreigner (which I like to think is tough to tell, but maybe he could tell?), or because I was a white lady with blond hair – which is a rarity in public places here.

On Thursday a Nigerian refugee named Mike asked if he could sit with me while I ate my lunch. Eating lunch with strangers is generally not a good idea – even in the U.S. – but I didn’t have any valuables and I did my normal routine of a fake name, etc… Mike was pretty friendly and told me how he was looking for work again so he could send money home to his mother in Nigeria. He asked me why I was in South Africa and I told him I wanted to see the country. However, I mentioned to him that I was going to Johannesburg in two weeks and the whole conversation changed.

Mike: Oh no, oh no… You can’t go to Johannesburg.

Me: It’s alright, I’m going with a group of students, and we have a guide.

Mike: No, no, no…  When I first came to South Africa I went to Johannesburg to look for work. I came with my best friend from Nigeria, and we were walking down the street when a gang came up and stabbed and killed my friend.

Me: (Silent)

Mike: It was 3 in the afternoon. The people there are crazy. No rules or laws. I will never go back. You can’t go to Johannesburg.

We continued our conversation, talking about soccer and such until I had to head back to work at the end of my break. I wished him luck with his job search and he of course asked me for my number, but I told him I didn’t have a South African number to give him (which is a lie, but as a rule, one doesn’t give refugees one’s phone number). All of us here keep on hearing negative remarks about Johannesburg from everybody. For those of you who don’t know, Johannesburg is the murder capital of the world. I’m going there because the entire group is scheduled to go there for a week as part of our mid-semester excursion. We’re also going to Kruger National Park, which is the part of the excursion I’m stoked about. Our professor continues to reassure us that we’ll be fine in Johannesburg, so I’m trying to keep a positive outlook on the excursion, but after my conversation with Mike, and the remarks from many of the locals here in Cape Town, I’m a bit curious as to what Johannesburg is really like.

Just Another Monday in Cape Town

One of the cool perks of working at Iziko is that I get to spend my lunch break relaxing in the Company Gardens. Or rather, it was a cool perk. For the last few weeks I’ve thoroughly enjoyed spending my lunch break outside in the sun, eating my lunch and reading. However, now that the schools are on break, the scene in the Gardens is quite different. Instead of groups of students eating lunch and talking about what they saw in the museums, the Gardens are now teeming with homeless people. There have always been homeless people in the Gardens, but now that the school groups are on holiday, the homeless people seem to be out in full force. On Monday when I went outside for lunch every single bench outside of the art museum was occupied by a sleeping homeless person. There were even more homeless people sleeping in the grass.

I settled for eating my lunch on the steps of the museum, but halfway through my break a group of four homeless men came up and sat down quite close to me. Frustrated, I decided to call it a lunch and go back inside the museum. However, the fun wasn’t over yet. While walking home on Monday, Danielle and I were “accosted” by a handful of homeless street urchins. Here’s what happened between me and two of the street urchins:

Street Urchin #1: “Give me your money and phone!”

Me: “I don’t have any money or phone. Go away.”

Street Urchin #1: “Give me your money and phone!”

Me: “I DON’T have any money and I DON’T have a phone. Get lost!”

Street Urchin #2: “Give him your money or I will stab you!” (Menaces me with blue balloon)

It is important to note that the urchins were high out of their mind. I was wearing my sunglasses, mirrored Oakleys – you can’t tell where I’m looking, so I was able to steal a glance at their hands without them noticing. I wasn’t too worried about being stabbed, but I wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything behind the balloon. Both Danielle and I remained calm and firm while dealing with the urchins.

At this point Street Urchin #2 proceeded to lunge at me with the balloon, and I sidestepped around the two of them. I quickly tried to see where Danielle ended up with her urchins, and whether or not she’d be in a position to run away with me. I was about a half-second away from taking off in a run when Danielle screamed “STOP!” at the top of her lungs, loud enough to scare the urchins away for fear of attracting the authorities.

The urchins never put their hands on us, so it wasn’t a scary altercation, but it was still frustrating. Keep in mind that this happened at 3:30 in the afternoon in a well-traveled public area. Five of us have been accosted/ mugged in the month that we’ve been here. Danielle and I got off the easiest, and the two of us aren’t even calling it a mugging, instead we’re referring to it as our “accosting.” Andrew and the other Caroline were mugged on a Sunday afternoon a few weeks back when a gang of guys took 30 Rand (approx $4 US) from Andrew. Thomas was also mugged on his way home from work, and unfortunately he has to traverse street urchin central on a nightly basis. Getting trailed by junior street urchins begging for change is a normal occurrence here. Many of the kids have bloody noses, which make them look like characters straight out of a Dickens novel, but the bloody noses are from sniffing glue, so I’m not feeling too bad for the local Oliver Twists. The situation is sad, but there’s no time for pity because one has to be vigilant while walking down Long Street and the other major thoroughfares – otherwise you might have empty pockets at the end of your stroll.

On a side note, we’ve taken to calling the South African cents “urchin change.” It’s a bit of a running joke here in the house. The vast majority of sales here are even (i.e. R30 or R67, not R30.49 or R67.23), yet South Africa still has small coins in five, twenty, and fifty cent denominations. So when the once-in-a-blue-moon odd purchase comes up, one will be burdened with coins so worthless that only the street urchins want them. Urchin change is quite useful when one is being trailed by a persistent urchin – one handful and they’ll leave you alone.

Monday was also notable because I went to Rafikkis and had quite a good time. Rafikkis is the bar down the street from the house, and on Monday nights they have a half-priced pizza special. The pizza is quite good, and one can get an awesome pizza and a beer for under $5. While usually a handful of us heads down there for the pizza special, nobody else was up for pizza on Monday, so I took my textbook for class and went by myself. Some might scoff at the thought of getting work done in a bar, but taverns have been the offices of many great writers: Shakespeare, Kerouac, and F. Scott Fitzgerald just to name a few. Okay, the last two were alcoholics, but Shakespeare got some quality work done.

By the time I was finished with my pizza the place was hopping, and while I was waiting for my check a guy asked me if I could watch his stuff. I told him sure, but that I wouldn’t be there for long. Of course, after hearing my accent he asked where I was from and I told him North Carolina.

Guy: “Get out! No way! I lived in Chapel Hill for three years!”

Me: “Wow, I’m a student at UNC.”

Guy: “Ahhh! I went to Phillips Middle School! But wait, you don’t sound like you’re from North Carolina…”

Me: “Oh, well I’m actually from Canada.”

Those of you reading this at home are probably wondering why I told him I’m from Canada. Well another running joke here in the house is that I’m Canadian. My housemates are convinced I’m a closet Canadian. Apparently I not only sound Canadian, but I also “look” Canadian – this might have something to do with the red and white pullover I frequently wear. What really takes the cake is that the South African locals also think I’m from Canada.

Anyways, I had a good time at Rafikkis on Monday. Orien (the guy who lived in Chapel Hill) was there with his partners from his architectural firm, and they bought me a few beers and talked to me about biking and the good places to hang out in the area. They told me how they love life in Cape Town, but all of them want to move out of the country eventually because 1) working here they earn rand, which is very weak against the dollar or euro, and 2) anytime they want to go anywhere outside of South Africa it is expensive and takes forever to get there. I told them about my “accosting” earlier in the day, and one of Orien’s friends responded: “Ha, just another Monday in Cape Town.”

Heritage Day

Happy Heritage Day and National Braai Day! Today is a public holiday here in South Africa. Banks, schools, and most businesses are closed so people can meditate on their heritage and grill meat. Quick South African vocabulary lesson: “Braai” is the South African term for grilling. Braai-ing is a national pastime here, much like grilling in the States.

Originally I was going to help out with the various Iziko Museum Heritage Day activities, but I’ve been battling a nasty head cold that just won’t go away, and I decided a day off would do me good. Almost everybody else in the house had the day off from their internships, so Danielle (who is also interning at Iziko) and I decided to take the holiday. Thomas, who interns at the Cape Argus newspaper, was the only person in the house who had to go into work today, but then again, the news is never on holiday. The weather is finally warming up here, which is a welcome relief from the cold and rain. I ate lunch outside in the Company Gardens every day this week. The flowers and sunshine provide a solid dose of rejuvenation midway through the workday. Work has been slow, but that was expected because the staff has been so caught up with final preparations for Heritage Day, and nobody has had the time to sit down and help Danielle and I map out our long-term projects for the semester. On Monday we will finally get to sit down and read through the project proposals. From there we’ll pick which projects we want to be involved with, and hopefully have a game plan for the rest of the semester.

Whale Fest ’09 is this weekend. Most of us will be going out to Hermanus to watch the whales from the cliffs. Hermanus is said to have some of the best land-based whale-watching in the world, and I’m quite excited about seeing whales in the wild. South African waters are home to 37 different dolphin and whale species, plus over 100 different types of shark including the great white, tiger, bull, and mako. But only a few species of whales and dolphins actually come close enough to the shore to be seen by the human eye. Nevertheless, this Saturday should be awesome, and who knows, maybe I’ll even score a beer cozy that says “Call me Ishmael: Whale Fest ’09.”

I’ve had an unexpected amount of free time on my hands these last few weeks. When I have free time at home in the States, I go out for a ride, but unfortunately because of the insanely heavy weekday traffic, biking is impossible on any day other than Saturday or Sunday. For the most part I’ve been using my free time to read South African literature, although yesterday I tried to watch a cricket match and ended up frying my brain. Last week I read Khayelitsha, which was written a few years ago by a white man who decided to go live in the Townships. Most of the book is about him coming to understand what it means to be South African in the new South Africa (post-1994 election). Khayelitsha is a township outside of Cape Town, and like the other townships we’ve been to, it’s sad, yet beautiful. To some extent the author romanticizes poverty, but the book was captivating, despite its faults.

At the moment I’m re-reading Cry, The Beloved Country, which I first read in 10th grade. I mention the fact that I read the book in 10th grade because my younger sister’s 10th grade literature class should be reading the book sometime soon. I enjoy sharing cool little experiences with my sister, and it doesn’t happen often –she’s six years younger than me. Plus, after she reads the book I have every reason to bombard her with stories from my time in SA and how it “relates” to the book.

Anyways, the book is quite good, and you should read it if you have the chance. I find the novel even more bittersweet now, because I can see with my own eyes how so much, yet so little has changed in this nation. The book predates apartheid, but the descriptions of squatter housing, broken families, poverty and crime are still accurate today, post-apartheid. As I said in an e-mail to my brother this week: “The nation is beautiful, but the situation here is heartbreaking.”

Walls and WiFi

I’m sitting on the balcony outside of the house struggling with a way to begin this blog post. I’ve been trying to collect my thoughts for a good five minutes now, but there’s a guy in the apartment complex across the street singing something that sounds like an Italian aria at the top of his lungs. The singing is startling not only because it’s pretty bad, but also because the neighborhood is usually crypt-like. In the month that I’ve been here in Cape Town, I’ve only seen a few people out and about in the Tamboerskloof neighborhood. It always startles me to see people at the small coffee shop down the street, and with the exception of the late-afternoon post-work rush of four or five people, the coffee shop is usually empty.

Tamboerskloof is depressing. It is in a great location, nestled between the downtown and Table Mountain, but the powerful fear of crime has snuffed out the beautiful historical architecture that fills the neighborhood.  All of the houses here have security walls. Not fences – walls. With the exception of the townships and a few impoverished neighborhoods, all residences in South Africa have walls. The walls went up during the violent days of Apartheid, and now they serve as protection from criminals. Most of the walls are topped off with barbed wire or spikes. One day while walking around, I spotted a house that had embedded colorful broken bottles on top of their wall. I was struck with an odd combination of awe and depression – somebody had turned the fear of their fellow mankind into art.

Every single house in the neighborhood has a prominent sign out front announcing that the homeowners have ADT, City Bowl Security, or some other type of home security system. Many houses have dogs; almost all of them are large dogs: Rottweilers, German Shepherds, and Ridgebacks. The preference for huge dogs is not a coincidence. Our house has not one, but two locked, wrought-iron gates, and from what I’ve seen, it’s the norm around here. The spectacular views of the downtown and Table Mountain from our windows are obscured by ghetto bars. And while we have a security system and alarms on our doors and windows, we have no smoke detector in the house. This is particularly distressing given the cooking abilities of some of my peers.

Crime is prevalent throughout South Africa and one does have to be vigilant. However, I can’t help but be overwhelmed by the sad, empty feeling that permeates throughout the suburbs. The only kids I’ve seen playing outside were in the townships. I miss seeing families out on afternoon walks or grilling in their backyards. Yesterday a few of us walked down to the waterfront, an upscale tourist-trap, and we simply sat and people-watched for a bit.

Ordinarily I’d be out on my bike taking advantage of the beautiful weather, but I’ve come down with the cold/sore throat that’s been making its way around the house. Sickness is inevitable with 14 people living on top of each other in such a small space. I got a good ride in yesterday morning, and while a few days ago it looked as if my cycling tan lines might actually be fading, they are now alive and well again thanks to the ride in the sun yesterday.

I should add that I’m not actually online blogging this, but I’m drafting it in a word document. As I’ve told some of you back in the States, internet is quite the headache here in South Africa. The wireless in our house is spotty and very expensive. We have to pay by the megabyte, and I think the rate comes out to something like $0.25 (American) per MB, which is incredibly expensive. I dropped $60 on an internet package here at the house, and I’ve already burned through most of it in the few weeks I’ve been here. Collectively we’ve paid the landlady $1000 in internet already, which is more than enough to buy a year’s worth of high-speed internet, cable, and phone at home in the States. There’s an internet café down the street that some of us have begun to frequent, but it’s constantly filled with a smoky haze, and the connection is very slow. Last week a few of us went out to use the free WiFi that many establishments around here advertise, but to our horror, free WiFi does NOT exist here. It turns out that all of these places subscribe to a service called “Red Button” and customers have to create an account. The only internet that is free is the first 5 MB or 30 minutes, depending on the location, everything after that is priced by the MB. I’m lucky that I have access some internet at the museum, but the connection is painfully slow – it takes 3 minutes to load my Gmail page. So for all of you guys at home, be thankful that you can download my blog page in lightning speed for practically nothing.

My new home: Iziko

Exciting internship update! Today was my first day of interning with the Iziko Museums. The Iziko Museums are a collection of museums and galleries in the Cape Town area – sort of South Africa’s version of the Smithsonian. The museum was a natural choice for me because of the time I spent working at Wilson Library and my experience with research. Professor Kramer (among others) would probably be chagrined because the fates keep on bringing me back to the realm of historical research. Maybe it’s a sign? Regardless, I’m extremely happy with my new internship placement, and thankful that things have worked out for the semester.

It’s an exciting time at Iziko because next week (September 24th) is Heritage Day, a public holiday here in South Africa. Iziko is hosting an open house and expecting thousands of visitors. For the next week I’m filling in where extra hands are needed with exhibit installation, moving boxes, creating nametags, and assembling rosters for the related conferences. After Heritage Day things will settle down and I will get to do exhibit development and research – a nerd’s dream come true. I will be working under the education director for the art museum, and hopefully I’ll be concentrating on the museum’s preparation for the 2010 World Cup. There’s a huge art exhibit they just submitted the proposal for last week that involves the Nobel organization, the four South African Nobel Peace Prize winners, and soccer. My boss described it to me today and I melted in my chair. I’ve already told my parents they need to come down for the exhibit opening in late November. If you see my parents, remind them that they should come to South Africa. At the moment they’re being bums and resisting, but we all know they want to visit.

The museums are a twenty minute walk from the house and located in the Company Gardens, which is very convenient and totally beats taking multiple minibus taxis to work. (Side story: the Company Gardens were created by the Dutch East India Company to grow fruits and veggies for the ships that stopped in Cape Town for resupply during the long voyage from Europe to Asia. Nowadays the Gardens are home to the museums, Parliament, and some schools – really beautiful. I’ll post pictures when I get the chance!) For the morning I shadowed one of the museum educators who led a school group on a tour through the South Africa Museum. The school group was composed of 7 and 8 year olds who spoke Xhosa, but the museum guide did the tour in English. The students understood some English, but they were far from fluent. The city funds museum trips for the township schools, but it doesn’t seem like teachers have the resources or skills to tie the trips in with the curriculum at the schools – the kids had never heard about mammals or reptiles. I helped the kids pronounce and spell out what they saw so they could write the names of the plants and animals down in their journals. I’m pretty sure I had just as much fun as the kids did walking through all of the exhibits; all of them would point to things and ask me “Miss, what’s that? Miss! What’s that?” Really cute! Out of the blue one of my supervisors asked me if I’d lead a tour group by myself tomorrow because I’m such a natural with kids. I should brush up on my animal kingdom knowledge a bit before bed, hah!

In other news, I bought contact solution today, which was an adventure. My hope was to find normal American brands, but alas only South African brands. Annnnd all of the boxes were in Afrikaans, so I have a general idea of what I bought, but I’m not positive. Who knows, I might go blind… hopefully not. I’ll keep you guys updated!

Adjusting to Capetonian Life

Even though I’ve been here in Cape Town for almost two weeks, there are a few things that I have yet to get used to here. In no particular order:

1)      Driving on the left side of a road. When crossing the road I have to actively remember to look “right-left-right” rather than “left-right-left.” I’ve already decided that if I get run over while crossing the road, I’d like it to be a classy car, a Land Rover or a BMW perhaps, but definitely not a Toyota. When I’m out riding on my bike left-hand traffic is not a problem because I’m just riding with the traffic and going with the flow, but I do have to concentrate when riding through traffic circles.

2)      “I’ll be with you now,” does not mean what it means in the rest of the world. In South Africa “I’ll be with you now” means “just a minute.” I have no idea how this phrase came to mean what it does in South Africa, but it’s really confusing when people use it in the South African sense.

3)      South African buildings do not have heat. Also, the locals LOVE to throw open all of the doors and windows no matter what the weather. I am eagerly looking forward to not having to wear a fleece jacket, socks, and shoes while hanging around the house. The landlady arrives every morning at the crack of dawn and opens all of the doors and windows downstairs. Keep in mind that she does this despite the fact that it is only 50 degrees outside! I’ll be honest, I enjoy fresh air, but this is a bit much. Today’s weather was downright lousy (pouring rain and strong winds), but everybody still had their doors and windows open. The people at the Laundromat looked utterly miserable and some were even wearing scarves and hats while waiting for their clothes to finish. Evidently nobody thought to close any of the several doors that were propped open allowing the wind and rain to come in the building.

4)      South Africa does not have an established recycling program. I know curbside pickup is a luxury, but with the exception of the University of Cape Town campus, there are no recycling bins to be found anywhere in this city. This is disturbing because nobody drinks the tap water and all of the restaurants serve bottled water. For the record, the tap water here is perfectly fine, and we have to special request tap water when we go out to eat. We at the house have started our own recycling bin and empty it when we go to the UCT for our weekly class. We also have yet to spot a single drinking fountain (seriously!). Luckily most of us brought water bottles over from the States, and we all fill up before we leave the house in the morning.

5)      “Hired help” around the house. Everybody in South Africa who has even a little bit of money has hired help. Unemployment is sky-high here in South Africa, so one can make the argument that servant jobs are important employment opportunities, but these workers’ wages are not living wages, and all of these workers have long commutes from their homes to their jobs in the posh neighborhoods. It’s a catch-22: these people need jobs, but these are not real jobs or stable careers. All of us here at the house are pretty weirded out by having a maid. I still make my bed, and we all clean up after ourselves and do things to make the maid’s job easier. Frankly here at the house I’d rather have free WiFi or access to the dishwasher, washer, and dryer, rather than a daily maid service.

6)      Instant coffee. Much like the British, South Africans are partial to instant coffee. For coffee snobs such as me, instant coffee is to coffee as McDonalds is to gourmet cuisine. Yes, it’s THAT bad. Nobody uses real coffee beans here; instead, the coffee of choice is Nescafe, which is really stretching the definition of coffee. I’ll name my firstborn child after anybody who sends me some real coffee beans, no joke.