I fought back tears today as I passed one of my favorite bums on the road and gave him a little wave. He cracked a large, toothless smile and said to me, "There's my wife! How are you today, beautiful?" I have been shoveling articles of clothing into plastic bags to give to people I have met here in South Africa. There is so little wealth to go around, but somehow enough good will to feed your soul forever.

I have just arrived back from Durban, a busy city situated in the Eastern Cape. It took around 2 hours and $100 US to fly there and back from Cape Town. We stayed at a very nice hostel called The Happy Hippo. You wouldn't know it from the flat white-washed exterior, but inside this place was a backpackers haven. The kitchen was enormous, there was a large space centrally for everyone to eat together and on the roof was a magnificent bar.

Unfortunately central Durban itself was not nearly as nice. The city looks as though it was abandoned in the 1970's when all the white people left and it was reclaimed by the Zulus. Large hotels turned apartment buildings in seafoam green and salmon pink crop up from the ground with gaudy neon signs and tacky bubble lettering that I'm sure looked very ritzy back in the day. The luxurious vacationers Durban is now a broken down palace, overrun by crime and poverty. uShaka marine world is perhaps the only thing keeping the economy above water- a huge aquarium and amusement park that was located right by our backpackers.

When we travelled into the interior of the city, we were struck with the concerning feeling that we were finally "in Africa." Street vendors every few feet all peddled the exact same cheap products from China or E.Coli covered fruit to passersby. Spencer, being a huge fan of Indian food, found us some delicious and inexpensive curry at a couple small mom and pop places by the Victoria Street Market, where these is a large Indian population. The markets were MUCH cheaper than Cape Town and we were able to buy lots of gifts for our families and friends; however, the amount of precaution we had to take whenever moving about the city made the trip a little tenser than we had hoped it would be given it was our post-finals victory tour. We were two White people wearing our swim suits and beach hats in a sea of Black city slickers, so naturally more attention was paid to us than I'd ever like to repeat in the future. Luckily, we managed to leave Durban unscathed. I'm definitely glad I got to see another side of this country, but I also feel the pang of regret that comes with feeling like I didn't do everything I wanted to do. I know that someday I will have to return here and make more progress on my tour of Africa.

It ends the same way it began. Its rare when the stumbles of life create poetic moments like these. I'm sitting by myself at Cocoa Wah-Wah staring out onto the hustle and bustle of daily life in Rondebosch with a small cup of coffee warming my hands. The first day I arrived here I landed in this very same spot, and consequently found myself across from the same older, stylish blonde woman who was chainsmoking with a french inhale. I see her in the very same seat today with a permanant small grey cloud passing over her upper lip, her eyes as voracious for her novel as her lungs are for another breath of smoke. Today I see her differently. The first time I met her, my eyes met hers and requested contact or explanation. Today we exchange a smile of unspoken understanding and sit silently lost in our own thoughts.

Tonight Bafana Bafana will play the United States in soccer and we have tickets to see the game a Greenpoint stadium. Two days from now I board a plane for home and the excitement of seeing my family cannot detract from the devastation I feel that I must part so soon.

So quickly places become home and your friends become your family. I will never forget you, Africa.


A

I will never wash the dirt of Africa from my shoes

I have 13 days. Just 13 more days left of this amazing 5 month adventure. On one hand, I feel like I just touched down at CPT and on the other, I feel like I have lived here forever. The familiar pulse of Cape Town pounds with each beat of my heart. The dub-step base wafts in through my window as I fall asleep on a Friday night, contemplating it all.

So what? What have I learned? How am I different? I guess its time to try and quantify a million experiences into a new outlook on life.

I think I began to learn how to let go of control. Thematically, control has woven itself into the fabric of my life and while I think its made me successful, at some point it began to control me. I jumped from 216 meters off the highest bridge bungee in the world with nothing but a glorified rubber band around my ankles... After that, the quirky particulars of life that I had come to care about seemed so inconsequential. The efficiency that I took for granted at home I did not find here and instead I found a new patience within myself for people around me.

And in my every day interactions, I so often go running by the dunkin' donuts counter without acknowledging the person that pours my coffee. We go about our day in single-minded pursuit of finishing the day. I think for the first time in a long time, I was able to live in the moment, seeking to love every silly little minute that I was given here.

Even the minutes when I felt as though I lived in a cage. The freedom I have as a woman in the Northeast to do what I please and walk where I want does not exist here. I took it for granted and I never will again. Here I live with a quiet constant fear of being attacked by men and exploited because I belong to the "weaker" sex. But beyond myself, the women on this continent endure more than I could ever imagine... so many single mothers and many of them HIV positive trying to make it through the day. I'm lucky enough to now know what that looks like, and hopefully to find more joy in my own life just knowing how lucky I am.

Maybe its stupid to try and find something profound in these experiences, but I need to create these written memories so I can return to them when I forget what I'm passionate about or what the point is or why I get up in the morning. When I get caught up in the rat race and my life feels futile, I want to be able to look here and remember what its all about: love, overcoming fears, feeling compassion and remaining forever grateful for everything I have.

Love,


A

It’s been brought to my attention that I don’t write as much as I used to. I’ll admit it’s unacceptable, but life so quickly becomes normal even in Africa.

For example, over the weekend we went to a comedy show starring Trevor Noah. During our orientation they played a video of his stand-up and we watched it in silence as the RAs laughed their asses off behind us at jokes which mainly pertained to race relations and political problems in South Africa, which at the time we didn’t understand yet. Seeing him at Baxter Theatre this weekend and being able to laugh at 95% of his jokes made me realize in an instant how much we’ve learned since coming here. To understand intimately the people of this country and their history makes me proud of the time I’ve spent here.

I’m equally proud of my recent success at La Fiesta Restaurant. Spencer and I have developed a habit of dropping into this little joke of a Mexican restaurant for one reason only: to solve the word scramble and win a free margarita. We take a 25 minute walk to observatory, carefully trying to avoid the muffin factory store on the way in order to arrive at the site of said free delicious drink. Each day the manager writes the letters to an obscure word between 9 and 14 letters long on a chalk board with the explicit promise that he will grant anyone who can unscramble the word one cold one on the house. The first day it took us around 30 minutes to unscramble “compromising.” I’m happy to report that on day 2, it was only a matter of 10 minutes before I blurted out “nymphomania” and established a victory streak. Given the trend of the learning curve, I expect the manager will have the drink made and waiting to pass to us as we walk by and shout out the word. Fun stuff!

Just as I was beginning to feel like I’d be living here forever, a letter arrived at 123 Ember Lane that grabbed my ankle and pulled me back to reality. My final acceptance letter to Tulane SOM I’d been waiting on for almost 2 years had made its way into our mailbox and I was beyond excited to submit my intent from Africa. Over the past couple years I’ve had time to think through the consequences, both good and bad, that will come of my decision to become a doctor. While I have concerns and apprehensions about finding a balance between work and family, I submitted my intention to attend without hesitation because I know this is a career that will fulfil me and give my children great lives like the one I have.

I’m amazed how quickly time has rushed by—I can feel the wind in my hair as I barrel forward into the next adventure of 4 years where each day I will wake up and learn something that I can use to help improve the quality of people’s lives. I feel unbelievably lucky to have been given this opportunity and turn my gaze to the next chapter of the book, which is bound to be the best yet.


Love from La Fiesta,


A

Not all who wander are lost...

I have been across the universe and back in 3 days. It started out as an idea- a seed. Spencer and I were pondering how we would make it to Darling, South Africa for a weekend long music festival titled “Rocking the Daisies.” There was a package deal which offered transport, a tent and tickets- the three T’s you absolutely had to have to enjoy the weekend. Because we love a good adventure, and were interested in saving a few Rand, we opted out of the package and tried to locate the three T’s on our own. The tent and sleeping bag part was easy- we rented those from a kind UCT hippie who runs the UCT Mountain and Ski Club. Tickets were available for purchase online so we scooped up a couple no sweat—and even got free t-shirts as part of the deal. Now all we needed was to figure out how to get there—the final item to join the T party.

We rose Saturday morning feeling unsure of ourselves, but gave a front of confidence to one another. First stop: Cape Town, which was only a R7 ride away by mini-bus taxi. Once we arrived at the station, our path became less clear. There was the option to take kumvees all the way in via Atlantis, or we could ride a bus coming at 1:20 pm (a couple hours later) to Mamry or Mamesbury and connect to Darling from there. We opted to wait for the bus as the locals we talked to seemed to recommend that route more highly. We found an Indian food bazaar and split some lekker chicken curry and nut-flavoured ice cream while we waited for our chariot to depart. We were glad to finally board the train, and embark to a destination unknown. Some amount of time later, a young man approached us and told us he would walk us to the kumvee depot in Mamry and make sure we got to Darling alright. I was immediately defensive because we hadn’t spoken to this young man and he somehow knew where we were going. We stepped off the bus into a tiny remote town where everyone seemed to know everyone—and they certainly didn’t know us. The young man walked us through a dusty open yard surrounded by barbed wire and around to the depot. When I reached into my purse and tried to hand him a 5 rand for helping us, he looked at me like I was crazy. He really had just wanted to help us.

We sat in the Darling Kumvee for what felt like a lifetime. It was 30 minutes, but I get very antsy. When we’d finally loaded the van and driven off I was finally sure we’d made it to the festival. I was wrong. We were dropped off in the middle of Darling and hadn’t the slightest clue where to go next. We rolled into the Police Station and asked if we could walk to Kloof Wine Estates, where the concert was being held, and found out we were still 13 kilometres away. I also encountered a woman covered in own splattered blood casually hanging out in the waiting room of the station—guess that’s how they do it in Darling. Out of nowhere another guy approaches who indicates that he’s also trying to get to the concert. We flag down a minibus and after a few minutes of literal begging convince someone to take us the rest of the way.

Rolling hills dotted with cars and tents and people stretched out in front of us and we knew we’d made it against all odds 7 hours later. No worse for wear, we pitched our tent with the skill of a former Boy and Girl Scout and headed past thousands of college co-eds lounging in the sun outside their tents. Massive electric daisies spun in the sky as techno lights flashed in our eyes. Ravers, hippies, parents, students all danced to the music bumping out of speakers on multiple stages. We encountered an area we dubbed The Techno Nipple, which was a massive inflatable space where dub-step played 24 hours a day and people gowned in neon were moving and shaking for hours on end. I think this was the 2010 version of Woodstock.

Sunday brought a cold-snap and shocked many partying people back to reality. The tent handing out free energy drinks 24 hours a day had been taken down, and it was clear that the party was about to be over. As we were leaving I ran to the bathroom once more and accidentally peed all over my sweatpants while trying to avoid the most infested looking port-o-potty in the world—classic and typical. This time we opted to take the bus, which we managed to sneak on to as it was leaving at 3 PM on Sunday. I managed to remove the offending sweats before we loaded up. You’re welcome, bus.

Back in Rondebosch, I was happy to pop in a movie and relax with my best bud. Coming up on finals and the end of the semester, I know my weekends are numbered so I’m glad to live each one to the fullest. Consider the daisies rocked.

Love from your girl with nomadic tendencies,


A

Gaining Independence

What a weekend! Saturday, I found myself at a concert in a township called Langa. There was some serious talent there. The first woman to sing sashayed out in a floor length gown that looked as though it'd been constructed out of a blue painter's tarp. Peeking out from under the hem of her dress was lime green tulle and her head was shaved except for a braided strip down the center of her skull, detaching from her at the nape of her neck and descending to the middle of her back in a thick dredlock decorated with beads and string. Her voice was exceptional and her style impossible to mimick.

We stayed at the concert for a few hours hearing different acts in all different styles and watching in awe and amusement as the 50 person crowd stood up and sang along to the xhosa and zulu songs they knew by heart. When the sun began to set, we figured we better get the hell out of Langa. One of the acts began to chat Spencer and I up outside the concert venue and suggested we get on the Langa city bus. He apparently has some connections and talked to the driver for a minute after which the driver waved us in. We hopped in and I became pretty uncomfortable. Two white kids, 50 or so Africans- we also realized the bus was going to Cape Town instead of Rondebosch. I made Spencer get off the bus with me and our new friend arranged for a second mode of transport: a stranger's beat up car to the kumvee depot. I performed the sign of the cross on myself and slid into the backseat of the world's oldest car driven by the world's smelliest and kindest man. He delivered us to the bus depot without a question and we made it back to Rondebosch safe and sound.

Sunday I rose early and got an amazing morning coffee with Spence at the WahWah. We travelled into the city for a day at the aquarium and the craft market- a different kind of exciting from the day before. My favorite part was the "mermaid purses"- cases that sharks lay their eggs in... so cool.

Today I felt very independent as I took the Jammie shuttle to the Hiddingh campus to do research at the National South African Library for a paper I'm writing on contemporary religious and popular reactions to the first heart transplant (which consequently took place right here in South Africa). Oh, how I took online catalogues for granted in the United States. I spent the better chunk of my time scrolling through micro copies of newspapers from 1967 looking for anything to do with the transplant. I encountered moderate success but called it a day after a few hours because I'm simply not mentally strong enough to do work for longer than that at this point... I'd better get my ass in gear for medical school.

6 weeks and counting until I return whence I came. How very strange, indeed.

Love from Langa Bongos,

A

Rhymes with Orange

People here are so friendly. This guy was power walking by Cocoa Wah Wah with frozen yogurt in his hands and I glanced up from my computer and we made eye contact. He changed his path and came into the coffee shop and stopped short next to me. His opening line was "can I get you some ice cream?" Apparently people can read my favorite food on my face. I declined but we talked for a minute, then he ran off to wherever he was going. This is why I love Cape Town.

Love from the friendliest place on earth,

A

Sometimes that's what it feels like...

Long weekend at UCT began at noon when Spencer and I took off for Stellenbosch, which is around an hour away by train. While Spencer went to procure some tickets, I was approached by a nerdy looking young man in his mid-20's who asked me for the time and then posted up next to me on the bench. I attract THE WEIRDEST people (evidenced by the fact that Marlee is literally 5 feet away from me taking self-pics inside of a laundry basket), so I should have been a little more suspicious, but the dude started chatting me up and I sort of went along with it.

He began telling me about his sensual Black girlfriend and how he used to be a goth, so I was pretty happy when Spencer returned. We still got a 30 minute history lesson on WWII that we didn't ask for, but luckily we were able to escape him when we got on the train.

We spent hours walking around Stellenbosch and finally settled on a good backpackers. As Stellenbosch is essentially the wine capital of the world, we intended to make it to some vineyards, but being without a map or a laptop, we ended up spending hours walking around the town and drank wine we bought from the pick'n'pay. It was more fun that way.

On the way home we met a couple girls who go to schoool in the Northern part of the country in Natal. They reported feeling extremely unsafe in their digs, and one of the girls had her flat broken into and was physically grabbed by the intruder who entered her room. She's on a government scholarship to learn Zulu, but it looks like they'll be transferring her somewhere more secure. I can't imagine living like that.

To play catch up on last weekend, it was jam packed with adventures. Friday we checked out an area of downtown I have never been to. Posing as Gabriella and Charles, we crashed The 15th on Orange- a super nice hotel- for a bit of pool shooting. We hit up the South African National Art Museum, where we saw some seriously interesting Apartheid art and then went to see Inception, which was worth all the build-up and hype!

Saturday we went to the beach and spent a gorgeous day catching some rays on a beautiful beach with a calm surf. Sunday was the hike up Table Mountain which was so much harder than I thought it would be! It took around 2 hours to get to the summit, and Spencer pretty much had to drag me up. As we approached the summit, it began to sprinkle but we pushed on. Once at the top, we had about a half mile walk across the table to reach the restaurant at the top. The wind began to pick up and it poured. Visibility was about zero. If we'd gotten seperated, I may never have seen Spencer again. We were certainly so glad to seek cover, and whipped out a picnic of food we'd packed. After evaluated our options and hearing the horn blare indicating everyone should get off the mountain due to gale force winds, we decided to take the cable car down the mountain to safety. I wish it had been a clear day as I imagine the view would have been spectacular, but I was glad when we made it down in one piece and returned to Rondebosch feeling accomplished.

Lucky for me I've finished my trade report and can relax a bit for a while in school. Tomorrow we're going whale watching with our program in Hermanus, which should be great (even though we've already accidentally been whale-diving without a cage hahaha). Today is National Braai Day so there's a massive barbeque cooking in our backyard that I must attend to!!

Love from the honor system train,

A

Procrastinating feels good right now...

I'm on the eve of submitting a major strategy report for trade bargaining which is supposed to explain how I intend to play the game. All my alliances and schemes need to be backed up in this 2500-5000 word document by research in flawless citation. It's going to be a long night: we'll leave it at that.

In the mean time, I need to drift back to more exciting times for a moment while I break from feverishly scanning white paper foreign policy documents pertinent to the island of Fiji. Back to Jefferey's Bay...

We sorted through a couple potential crash spots for the evening and settled on Ubuntu Backpackers as they offered free internet and breakfast. In the morning Spencer and I watched and documented Parker as he shredded some wave-age during a surfing lesson. The water was cold and the weather a bit dreary, but we were quite impressed with Parker's ability to balance and dubbed him the diamond in the rough of the group. He definitely made the skintight wetsuit look good out there.

That afternoon we took off to go horseback riding through the dunes, which was particularly exciting for me because I was lucky enough to have two horses growing up - Pippi and Killian- and for a very long time horses were a very important part of my world. When I was around 16 I stopped riding and haven't sat on a horse since. I can't begin to explain how special it was to be on a horse again... not just on a horse, but on a horse in the sand dunes of South Africa. The catharsis it always brought me was still there and I was surprised at how balanced I felt and how much I remembered. Once I got my bearings I was off at full tilt, galloping down the beach and racing the guide over the dunes. I had asked for the most spirited animal they had, and they didn't dissapoint. My animal was fond of rearing up whenever I asked him to stand quietly, which made me giggle and created some pretty excellent pictures.

Watching Spencer and Parker ride was hilarious as well. Spencer was given a little white pony to ride named Tinkerbelle, who was giving him quite the run for his money, dragging him across the dunes away from the group. After the ride, Spencer mentioned his throat feeling tight and he was covered in a splotchy rash-- turns out he was allergic to the little fellah who we henceforth referred to as "poisonbelle."

When we got home, we made a big dinner with two level 5 vegan chicks who refused to put anything non-natural in their bodies... It sounds good on paper, but one of them had a major infection from putting gauges in her ears (that seems non-natural?) and she refused to put any sort of anti-septic on them. I was like "whatever, hippie." Despite their questionable lifestyle choices, the girls were very nice and we enjoyed hanging out and chatting them in the evening.

Early to bed we went after our big day and we awoke early the next day to begin our journey home. We stopped in George for the night to break up the drive, but didn't do anything of note at the Afrovibe Lounge that we stayed at-- except complain that the hottub was non-operational and drink Russian Bear on a swingset.

We arrived home on Friday with the weekend ahead of us and an amazing vacation behind us.

What an experience, what a life! I'm beyond lucky.

Love from Garden Route Memories,

A

I hope tomorrow is like today

It took me a while to get around to this post because I had an unfortunate incident at the beach this weekend where my phone got stolen from under my nose by some evil beach riffraff. I had to enter a code from google to re-start my account due to suspicious south african activity I guess. Luckily my friend Kalilah had an extra one and she let me borrow it for the remainder of the semester. Now I'm back in action and connected with the universe again.

To pick up where I left off, our journey took us next to Knysna, another small town along the route, that boasted a rich history of washed up Ostrich Dynamos and Elephant Parks. The weather turned sour and when we stopped to pick up groceries in the supermarket, Parker misnegotiated a corner and the cement tore a chunk of tire off and some of the rim off. It's definitely so much harder to drive on the wrong side of the car and road in a parking garage and we learned the hard way. I'm my father's daughter and avoiding rental car company accident fees runs in my blood. We were worried about the tire blowing out if we continued to drive on it, so we took the car to an auto shop and had them throw the full size spare on the car's normal rim. For about $10 a piece we managed to avoid paying a couple hundo for a new car tire. To sweeten the deal, we bought 2 rand superglue to reattatch the piece of rubber to the tire in the back from the Happy 5 Rand Store.

Feeling a little buzz kill from the near auto death, we decided to leave Knysna and push on to Wilderness. On the way, we stopped in Victoria Bay where we suited up and swam in the cool waters of the Indian Ocean against the most stunning backdrop. After relaxing in the sun for a while, we found a hostel situated 4 kilometers away from the main drag at the top of a mountain called The Wild Farm. We arrived to beautiful weather and an old man showed us to a cabin where we would be able to stay the night. A panoramic view of the ocean and surrounding woods made me sure this would be my favorite place I'd visited without a doubt. We drove our fixed up buggy to town and ate some italian food while researching our plans for the next day.

When we woke it was onto Plett where we found a cool surfer vibe and a fun hostel called Albergo Backpackers. I was surprised to meet Marlee and Kalilah there that evening as they were riding the baz bus down the Garden Route. Marlee had bungee jumped, zip lined and played in an elephant park that day. After swimming at Victoria Bay, I was excited to freeze my face off again and despite the less than perfect weather, I managed to wrangle Spencer into boogie boarding in the ocean with me. Getting down to the beach was the first adventure as the woods were dense and the path beset with difficulty. When we emerged from the understory, a perfect beach with bluest ocean, black rocks and olive sand came into view. Parker brought his nice camera to take pictures of the ocean and climbed up on a big rock to photograph. We were havign such a good time on the perfect-for-boogie-boarding waves that we didn't notice a whale an its calf in our proximity, breaching out of the water and floating lazily by the shore. Luckily, Parker managed to catch it on his film! When Spencer and I became aware of the whale we called it a day on the boogie down, but it was an amazing time. We returned to the hostel to warm up and braai with the rest of the crew staying there the night.

A good meal, some good drinks, and we were back on the beach for a while longer to soak up some ocean air. We almost didn't make it make because of the impossible path, but it was worth the climb.

We said goodbye to Marlee and Kalilah the next day as we moved on to Jeffrey's Bay. On the way there we were slated to stop at the Bungee Jump to make my worst nightmare a reality. Since I was very young, I can remember being afraid of heights. I was the only kid in 6th grade that didn't complete the ropes course during outdoor ed. I've been talking about doing this bungee jump for a month now, and I knew there was no way I was getting out of it. When I climbed into the car Parker asked me to open the glove box for something and I was given a surprise: a smirnoff ice. The tradition of icing goes as follows: if someone gets you to reveal a smirnoff ice they've hidden, you must get on one knee and chug said bottle. Being that I play by the rules, I took my punishment outside the Albergo backpackers with a smile on my face-- and later was thankful for it because it took the edge off right before I flung myself off the highest bungee jump in the world.

I didn't feel nervous until I started to walk across the bridge. I broke into a cold sweat. I felt the smirnoff ice threatening to reappear in my mouth and perhaps projectile into the ravine. The boys charged down the cage built underneath where bungee-ing people walk to the platform. The footing is a sparse mesh, so if you walk fast enough it looks like there's nothing there at all. I began to plot ways of getting off the bridge, but the guide was behind me. Spencer grabbed my hand and pulled me down the walkway at one point when I slowed my roll to turtle pace.

Once on the platform, I entered a haze. The feeling inside me can only be described as "despair." The look on my face can only be desribed as "about to face death by a firing squad." Luckily, your imagination doesn't have to take you far, there's a video that captures every tremble which I will post on the internet as soon as I can. Spencer and Parker jumped first... I thought I would have more time but before I knew it they were binding my legs with 2 pieces of foam and a single rope. The harness around my chest was only for sitting me up after I jumped and would not be attached to anything. They stood me up and helped me to the platform. I breathed in, I breathed out. They began their countdown and I kept my eyes closed lightly. 5, 4, 3, without any option I bent my legs and sprang from the plank. Then I felt myself falling away from the men holding my arms, my eyes opened, I was soaring. I was shocked that I had jumped of my own free will. For around 1.5 seconds I thought I'd just committed suicide. Luckily, my free fall was around 6 seconds and I had a complete lack of thought and sound for about 4.5 seconds as I plunged towards the ground, completely unaware of the cord that would be saving my life.

My legs caught and I swung smoothly underneath the bridge, rebounding and falling again in the world's 2nd highest bungee which I was ready for this time. And just as quickly as it began, it was over and I was bouncing shallowly up and down by my feet kilometers above the earth. I became acutely aware of the strap around my ankles. It felt like it was slipping. The blood rushed to my head. All of a suddent I realized: this is real. I felt the biggest emotional swing of my life to complete panic. The spider came down to collect me and I was, for lack of a better description, paralyzed with fear. He sat me up and I closed me eyes as he removed and added clips to my body. If I opened them, I probably would have belligerently accused him of trying to kill me as he was unclipping me to pull me up. He tried to make small talk with me, but I was completely unresponsive. When I finally got pulled back onto the platform I kissed the earth and declared that I would never do that again. I'm so glad I did, but it was once in a lifetime.


After bungee jumping, I knew my day was going to be amazing. We all lived, afterall. After running into a few exchange students we knew on their way to bungee we gave them some words of encouragement and moved onto our next destination: Jefferey's Bay or "J-bay."

More later...

Love from the girl with a Game Theory Exam tomorrow!


A

I want to celebrate and live my life

I don't know how its possible to come back after a week of wandering and feel so utterly... amazing.

The journey began like any other Saturday morning would. The clear skies promised a beautiful barely spring day perfect for driving lazily through the mountain passes of the N2. I gathered a duffel bag of only a few changes of clothing, toiletries and all the food I had left in the house. I couldn’t forget my camera, but I somehow managed to forget a towel. I hustled over to Nursery to meet my travelling companions Spencer and Parker.

We took our sweet time getting over to the Budget rental, re-hashing the previous evening’s events with a couple couch crashers in the Nursery Living Room. When we finally made it, armed with coffees and credit cards, we were shown to our brand spanking new Opal. We were naturally scared shitless at the prospect of driving manual on the opposite side of the road in a mint-condition car. Spencer’s 22 so his name was on the documents, but we casually allowed Parker to negotiate the vehicle out of the treacherous parking lot. I happily report that I was able to contribute to the driving success by pointing out to Parker that he thought 3rd gear was 1st gear. I had to find a way to earn some street credit with these boys and I think that observation took care of it.

So off we went, snapping pictures of our city, retreating into the distance as we accelerated into the unknown with no plans at all for our week of vacation. Parker’s favourite music blasted from the stereo- a mixture of mash-ups and dub-step. After some deliberation we decided our first stop would be Mossel Bay, which had a sleepy beach town vibe.

The first Backpackers we saw, we decided we would stay at. Mossel Bay Backpackers was clean and welcoming, and run by a 20-something bleach blonde surfer dude who seemed pretty cool and possibly drunk on arrival. We settled into our digs and chowed down on some of the pasta with veggies and sauce I’d cooked the night before for all of us. At some point during this organizational period, “Ze Germans” showed up and our lives got a lot more interesting. Ze Germans are 4 guys who are also exchange students at UCT. They were bombing around in a little red VW and they were in search of a place to stay so they could drink “ze be-ahs” (read: the beers). They generously shared some of their precious beers with us and I couldn’t help but notice how uncanny the similarities were between the characters in the movie Beerfest and these German exchange students. We left the house to find a place to watch the rugby game after shotgunning a few in the backyard with a Lebanese chick sporting a weave and her Jewish hippie ambiguous boyfriend. We were a crew of 9 now rolling through a deserted Mossel Bay.

Many things happened this night, few of which I am at liberty to speak of. Spencer, who at this point was rocking an alter-ego we referred to as “Chaz” because he was trying to grow a moustache, needed to be assisted to his bunk bed at the backpackers at around 10 PM after flipping me over in a shopping cart. Ze Germans found Weiner Schnitzel outside of an abandoned club so we spent some time there watching them devour it and talk about how it was more delicious in the motherland. Before packing it in for the night we all decided the next day would be spent quad biking through a game reserve per suggestion of Parker. Ze Germans and the hippies were interested in joining us, so with a start time of 7:30 AM we clamoured into our crowded bunks and dreamt of what the next day would hold.

Reluctantly I exited my bed the next day, secretly trying to get out of the quad biking Parker had planned. Luckily, he dragged Spencer (AKA Chaz) and I out of bed and threw us in the Opal. We made our way down a sketchy dirt road towards the game reserve with little idea what to expect, but upon arriving we realized that they day would be quite the adventure. Ze Germans needs “be-ahs, cigarettes, and coffee” so Spencer, Parker and I went out in the first group with Jewish hippie on 4 wheeled motorized bikes, or “quads.” They taught us how to operate our steeds and offered us goggles and shotty bike helmets that were optional on these machines that reach about 100 kilometres per hour. We learned quickly how to make them go and took off down the dirt path into the jungle to see what animals were waking up. I watched a giraffe run over a ridge with a herd of wildebeests—it was like the discovery channel in real life. The 2 white rhinos on the reserve found their way over to us and were literally 10 feet away as we snapped pictures. When they charged us I was so scared I rammed my quad into the guide who was also furiously trying to retreat from the angry animal. Once a safe distance away, we laughed about the incident and marvelled at hilarious series of photos showing the rhino’s approach. We visited a special area where two cheetahs with sway-hip were being kept. Due to in-breeding, these cheetahs had a genetic defect that causes them to lose balance when running at top speed. Our guide told us these cheetahs have still tried to take down animals before and warned us to be still and quite when entering. Just as he was about to open the gate I noticed one of the cheetahs crawling over the ridge, low on its haunches, staring at us. I pointed it out to our guide and he slammed the gate closed and said that today was not a good day to meet the cheetah dubbed “bitch” because she was preparing to pounce on one of us. Dodged a bullet.

After quad biking we had light meal of muesli and yogurt with coffee while looking out onto the reserve. They offered to take us out on the reserve in a jeep at night if we stayed for the evening, but we were antsy to keep moving. The lodge was beautiful, and I hope to one day get my parents there for a vacation.

I will continue this post soon but right now I’m exhausted and have crazy amounts of laundry to do.



Love from a story where the best is yet to come,



A

What Would God Tweet?

What a weekend! Woke up Sunday and clambered over the door of our bathroom which had been removed from its place in front of the shower and toilet, peered into the tub and there floating in brackish waters was around 100 plastic cups. I spotted someone on standing just outside the door in the yard, and I only knew it was Marlee because the individual was not wearing any pants. After many attempts to re-install the door, M&K recruited the help of a shirtless Natty who was also unsuccessful. And with that, we established that until my two frat brother roommates figure out how to repair the blockade, showering just became highly inappropriate. But TIA: This Is Africa.

I spent my day doing a Game Theory tutorial and writing a paper for the History of Medicine in the Making of Modern South Africa class. I was surprised at how easily the writing flowed after I outlined my brains out—I haven’t written many proper papers in college due to my concentration in economics or “ecos” and the sciences, so I was somewhat tentative about the whole thing. Luckily, I cranked out 1100 of the 1500 words this afternoon and need to do a little more research to wrap it up, but it should turn out just fine! That’s not due until Friday, but there’s nothing that I hate more than waiting until the very last minute, especially with all the other work I’ve had going on.

To back up, to Friday, the soccer game was incredible. We had an amazing time and I don’t even like soccer! Unfortunately, we lost our friend Andrew, Spencer’s roommate, at some point during the game. After many unsuccessful phone calls and worried pacing about the stadium, we resolved that Andrew was probably just in a no service area or his phone ran out of batteries. At 6 AM we received a phone call from Andrew saying he has just woken up in jail. The cops informed him he’d passed out on the sidewalk and as a public service they put him in the slammer so he didn’t get mugged. After paying US $14 to be released, Andrew was driven to the train station by the police who were “going in the same direction” and “used to also do stupid shit when they were drunk.” The cops also spelled his name wrong and didn’t take down any of his information, so we’re thinking it was like checking into a motel with bars instead of walls and he won’t have a record. Either way, he’s an extremely lucky guy.

Saturday I hung out with Barry, a South African male model (bow chicka bow wow), and a few of his friends while they watched the Springboks rugby game. I was surprised at how welcoming they were to me as they offered me dinner the moment I walked in the door. I felt a little anxious after a bit of time passed because I was in a stranger’s apartment too far away from my house to walk home if I wanted to, so I was happy when they brought me back at half time to reunite with convict Andrew and Spencer to go to the Red Wine White Shirt party for my friend Marina’s 21st birthday. She has a gorgeous house that’s a little out of the way, but we had a blast teaching the South Africans how to play Kings and braaiing in the backyard. We returned home to the chaotic scene of Marlee and Kat throwing a party outside my room, at which time I bowed out and locked myself inside, which brings you to the beginning of my story when I woke up to madness in the common area. It’s an animal house, but it’s OUR house.

Love from the bathroom without a door ;),

A

Beating the System

Today, Spencer and I beat the system. UCT's library charges outlandish sums of money to print and while I cannot reveal my secrets for fear of losing the priviledge that we have won, I have to cannot help but boast that this is one unbelievably clever loophole. I've been in the library for the past 2 hours... I don't even know what I'm printing anymore. All I know is that it feels awesome.

In a couple hours Spence and I are going to catch the free bus to the soccer stadium where the world cup was played (!!!) to watch a soccer game. I'm looking forward to a fun Friday evening checking out the fanwalk and other hyped up areas.

I'm getting a handle on Trade Bargaining and I'm actually starting to enjoy it. I've gotten pretty close with the people in my sub-plenum because we rely on eachother for our marks errrr... grades. I'm beginning to sound like a South African! Tomorrow we're all going to my friend Marina's 21st birthday party themed: Red Wine, White Shirts. Should be a disaster.

I haven't talked about this much, but a lot of the population here is devout Muslim. It's currently Ramadaan and many of my South African friends fast all day while at school and aren't able to eat until the sun goes down. I'm moved by their faith and impressed by their ability to be upbeat despite being hungry. One of our security guards (not Lockmo) is Muslim, and gave me a cup of "booba" after I snagged him a 3 rand ice cream cone one my way home from the library. It's a sweet milk, cinnamon and tapioca drink that is used to break the fast. Millions of people around the world are voluntarily going without food so they can understand what it feels like to be starving. That's powerful stuff.

As it stands, there's only a week of class standing between me and spring break. Spencer and I rented the car yesterday and they simply asked us sternly "How old are you?" to which we responded in concert "22!" They didn't check to confirm this because they historically will rent a car to anyone with a credit card. We got a free upgrade on the vehicle and its going to cost us ZAR 188 a day, which is under 30 dollars. I can't wait to start the adventure... and only 1 week, a paper and a tut stand in my way.


Love from the printer station,

A

Lockmo: Lessons on Life and Love

Our security guard Lockmo comes over in the evenings to check on us and last night he gave me a healthy dose of South African wisdom. Lockmo's been living on his own for the past 2 years trying to save up to buy a cow. Why? Because his wife left him and a cow is the way to get her back. He was vague on the details, but effectively his wife was convinced that Lockmo had cheated on him with the secretary at Lockmo's place of work. He said they were innocent SMS messages, but when his wife caught wind of the situation she poured a boiling pot of porridge on him and told him to move out of their house in Zimbabwe. Lockmo sustained burns and had to go to the hospital over this incident.

Now he's been working in Cape Town for 2 years so he can buy a cow to give to her parents so they will tell her to return to him. He says that even though he doesn't feel as though he did anything wrong that the past 2 years of work will be worth it to have her back because she's the one that he wants to have 13-15 children with. Love is pain, he reports. Love is searing porridge on your bare chest and love is 2 years alone far from home and your only son. I will find out when I grow up, he says, that love hurts.

I wonder when precisely this event of growing up happens. When do you stop running towards greener pastures and buy the cow? That's commitment, man.


Love from Leslie Commerce Computer Lab,

A

Lockmo: Lessons on Life and Love

I have schoolwork?

I have schoolwork. And a lot of it. I guess I sort of missed the "study" part of study abroad for the first 5 weeks of this magical semester. Trade Bargaining has officially started kicking my ass. Representing the island of Fiji, I am expected to participate in 3 hours worth of online chatting per week with my sub-plenum concerning itself with Dispute Settlement Procedures. We also have class 5 days a week-- DOWNER. I guess I'm going to have to buck up. I'm done complaining, I promise.

As I was saying in my previous post, I am loving our new home Devonshire. We haven't had any issues so far so I'm keeping my fingers crossed for continued success in this maximum security fortress.

A plus side to our new location has been the great gym that's just across the road that I've become a member of. They have a lot of classes and a wayyyy better facility than the one at Graca Machel so I'm much more motivated to work out. Also, we walk at a 45 degree angle to school every day for 20-25 minutes. Exercise is built into my day. Marlee couldn't figure out why her bum was on fire until we thought about our morning hike-- case closed.

Plans for Spring Break are about to shake themselves out. Myself and 4 male friends (Spencer, Andrew, Parker, Chris) are going to make a 6 day pilgrimage down the coast on the Garden Route. There are a lot of amazing things to do on this drive like see elephants and monkeys, ride ostriches, bungee jump off the highest bridge in the world, etc etc. I couldn't be more excited to go on this trip! I'm used to being the token estrogen, so in exchange for all the manly protection they can offer I'll play the part of mom. The idea of just getting in a rented car and driving away into new spaces is pretty amazing and I think the 5 of us are going to have some unbelievable times on this trip.

Earlier today I was sitting at my desk reflecting (read: procrastinating) and after 5 weeks I can say I'm beginning to miss some things about home. The excitement of being in South Africa is still unreal, but I wish I could share everything I see with the people I love back home and in New Orleans. Ultimately I think going it alone makes you really appreciate the obstacles and challenges you face with your people by your side. And of course, this experience will without question make me a stronger woman.

Love from Garden Route daydreams,


A

Greetings from Devonshire House

We've turned the clocks back to 1970 in our new retro bungalo next to the main bar by campus. Through some intense application of game theory, I scored myself a massive room in the "cottage" portion of this incredible dwelling. Marlee and Kat are also living in the attached house, which has a kitchenette, bathroom and common area-- a total score compared to the main house. The property shares a big courtyard, a garden in the front yard and the location is to die for... except that location also means my key ring that's so heavy it must be transported in a backpack. I have 9 different keys for the house as I have to pass through that many gates to get inside of my room. These security measures are due to a high volume of break-ins that occurred in this house last semester. Hopefully the issues are remedied with said key ring, but as always, I will keep you updated.

This weekend was nonstop full of activity. Friday I hiked up Lion's Head again and this time successfully conquered my fear of heights by scrambling onto the massive boulders that I chickened out of last time. Unfortunately towards the top of the mountain I started feeling sick and boot'n'rallied all the way to the bottom with Marlee and Kat alternatingly seeming concerned and trying to boost my moral with good humor. By the time we got to the bottom I was pretty dehydrated and passed out in the street-- "whoops" as Marlee would say. My friends carried me into the house and the rest was history. Luckily this bout ended quickly because I was abled to take my anti-nausea medication from the last time I was sick.

Saturday morning I rallied and went to a wine tasting-- interesting choice after having stomach problems but I was determined not to miss anything after I missed Camps Bay. I wasn't able to try any of the wine, but I had a good day with everyone touring the winery and enjoying the beautiful day in Stellenbosch. After the tasting we moved to a cheetah rehabilitation center and it was amazing to see such powerful animals close up.

Sunday we hit up Mzoli's: a barbeque in a township. The only way to describe this place is the biggest party in the world on a Sunday. Hundreds of people danced to the music spun by a DJ underneath a tent and spilled into the streets. We drank from 6 packs bought from the liquor store in the township and waited 4 hours to receive a MASSIVE bowl filled with every kind of barbequed meat you can imagine that we ate with our hands. Incredible.

I'm running late for volunteering so I can't write too much more at the moment, but I'll be sure to send an update again soon.

Love from Mzolis in Guguletu Township,

A

Europe is a cop-out

Volunteering has begun to pick-up and I've made some breakthoughs with the nurses who work here. One stood next to me while I fed Jerimiah through his feeding tube and she asked me about my studies and where I lived. In turn, I found out that she's from Joberg and has been a nurse since 1997. She misses the city and hopes to go back there one day.

As for Jerimiah, she's not sure how he got his trancheobronchial fistula. It could have been a birth defect or as a result of interventions during his course of TB. The child is over a year old, and he probably doesn't weigh more than 12 lbs. He's tiny. And he throws a fit when he's put back in his crib. These children miss so much important contact with their mothers in these early years because they are so sick. As one of the nurses put it to me, "they all want to be held but we are simply too busy."

I was dissapointed to find that Pelo, a 4 month old in the ward, hadn't been changed all day and the irritated skin began to bleed when I took off his diaper. These children don't cry when they have dirty diapers or when they are hungry or when they feel sick. With the exception of a few, they are silent in their cribs-- used to being shouted at by the nurses when they make a peep.

While it's not the happiest work, I look forward to going to the hospital every day. Today Reagan, Keeley and I even had a nice moment in the little courtyard with Pelo, Baby and Jeremiah. We took the babies out and let them get a few rays of the fast setting African sun before taking them inside to get them ready for bed. I can't imagine what it would be like to be seperated from my child for a minimum of 9 month course of treatment here at the Brooklyn Chest. It seems too easy for too many of their mothers.

On another note, a rat infestation has everyone's hackles up in Roxburg this evening. We have some type of emergency meeting with our program director and they're talking about moving us to other houses at the request of a few people living here. I haven't seen any of these rats in person and I'm not too keen on packing my life up to move it somewhere new. Hopefully the situation is resolved without resorting to that-- I think we could get some serious compensation if we just suck it up.

Gearing up for a big weekend of Stellenbosch wine tastings and Mzoli's Sunday Jol. I'll be sure to send another update soon.

Love from the Rats in Roxy,

A

On African Time

There's a phenomenon here called "African Time." It means being exceptionally late for everything and proud of it. A few phrases to describe time frames here have made their way into my vocabulary.

"Just now" : 20-30 minutes from now
"Now now" : 15-20 minutes from now

Last night I went out with a few African friends Chenai ("nay-nay"), Blondina ("Blah Blah"), and others and I learned how difficult it is to coordinate a large group of South Africans for our friend Vuvu's birthday. The activity for the night was to complete a list of missions written on a piece of paper. My mission was to point, smile and wink at a stranger of the birthday girl's choice. Other missions included kissing someone old enough to be your father and singing a duet of waka-waka so I was glad to pull an easy one. I literally did not walk through the door until 5 AM this morning and believe me it was NOT by choice. Those girls just did not know when to call it a night!

Overall an interesting night on many levels because I've never been out with a group that was entirely South African. Will I have a repeat performance? Not a chance.

Love from 5 AM on Long Street,

A

Harrowing Near-Death Encounters

I climbed a mountain... (!!!!!!!!!). I haven't revisited my fear of heights since I chickened out of the ropes course during 6th grade outdoor education. But this wasn't just any mountain-- this was Lion's Head on Signal Hill. We'd heard that it was only around an hour and a half to the summit so we packed wine and cheese in intense northface hikers backpacks, or in my case the standard one-pocket school sack in orange and blue that I hijacked from my basement.

It started off great as there was a well-travelled trail we were heading up. It wasn't too steep and we noticed many walkers and some runners (holy moly) moving up and down the mountain. The view was incredible within just the first 20 minutes, as this path was carved out of the side of the mountain and there were no trees impeding everything below. We were hustling to make it to the top in time for sunset because we'd caused a brawl between 3 taxi drivers about who was going to take us to the mountain and it held us up for a few minutes.

There was just enough time for Marlee and a few others to climb atop this enormous rock for pictures. On the other side of this rock was a drop off that fell what looked like a thousand feet to the city below. This was my first flirtation with my height phobia. I tried to climb up this massive boulder but between the two rocks that I was trying to shimmy up, I could see how quickly one would perish if they tripped or got pushed or if a massive gust of wind blew through (not uncommon). I gave it a few tries a Marlee's insistence, but ultimately went running back to the path when a cloud enveloped us and our visibility dropped to only a few feet (glad I wasn't on the rock for that!).

Onwards we climbed, noticing there was less and less path and more and more rocks. We grabbed onto dirty earth with our hands and wedged our sneakers in whatever footholds we could find as our hike became what Marlee likes to refer to as a "vertical jungle climb." Mind you, we're moving at a furious pace now as we round the mountain and see clearly that the neon sun is going to bed. There are two ladders, two chain climbs, and a couple places where I was sure this mountain was going to make us pay with one of our lives in order to get to the top.

With about 10 minutes to spare, the last of the group dragged themselves over the lip and it became immediately clear that it was so worth it. So high that we were above the clouds, I couldn't stop myself from thinking: this must be heaven and we just climbed the stairway. The world was ending as the clouds undulating off the ocean swallowed the city below. After taking rounds of pictures and a video(!) we sat at the top of the hill and enjoyed the endorphins... and the wine. Marlee knew I was going to be a mental case on the way down, so in typical Marlee fashion she insisted we purchase a couple bottles of $3 wine from the discount liquor store (think building 19 for alcohol).

We shared them amongst the group of 12, laughing and enjoying for a few minutes past when we should have. Then someone mentioned the setting sun. The hot globe had dissapeared and only a peach glow lit the horizon and it was fading fast. We threw on our packs and began the scramble down against an altogether new enemy: darkness.

We knew if we didn't make it down the sheer rock portion of the trail in 15 minutes we'd be in big trouble. Only one person in our group had a working flashlight and it would have been a nightmare trying to get 12 people down the chains in that scenario. It was anyway as many of us opted out of the chain route on the way up, but were forced to do it on the way down because it was faster. Picture me, feeling the effects of the wine just enough to not have a heart attack clutching a thick iron chain, trying to repel down the side of a mountain 30 feet. Thank God for Charlie-- one of the guy on the climb guided us down and even let us use his hands as footholds. My hands are bruised this morning from the attempt and I flaunt them proudly-- battle wounds. We didn't make it in the time frame but the hardest part was over when the sun set. With nothing but faint illumination from the city on our right Marlee and I held hands and moved cautiously towards the Boogie Bus that Marlee called to take us from the bottom to a Mexican Restaurant called Fat Cactus. We passed several security gaurds stationed on the mountain on the way down who sat in the darkness with german shepards at their sides, ready to spring on mountain robbers which are all too common after dark.

The thumping base of the boogie bus that rattled my chest was relieving compared to the silence of the mountain. The lack of noise on the way down was only interrupted momentarily by renditions of "Hey Baby" and "Build Me Up Buttercup" to strengthen team moral.

It's true what they say about feeling close to people that you face your fears with.

Love from above the clouds in the most beautiful place on earth,

A

Mr. West is in the building

First day of volunteering at the Brooklyn TB hospital and I am most officially in love. When we arrived I felt lost for a moment among the flurry of nurses who seemed to not even notice the 3 awkward looking white people. I approached one of the nurses and let her know who I was and why I was there and her response was, "Great, here's a baby." She tossed a beautiful 6 month old baby girl into my arms and before whirling around to go about the rest of her tasks said, "it's time for her to eat." I made my way over to some sort of nurses' station where bottles were resting in a tub and I asked the woman supervising said bottles for one I might give my baby. She gave me one and my little nugget ate away hungrily. Having a vague idea about 6 month old's eating habits, I attempted to slow her eager gulps by pulling the bottle away from her every once in a while, but her expressive little face let me know that she was not pleased with me.

I burped her. She spit up on me. We laughed. We cried. Her name is Nahkanye but I've taken to calling her, "Kanye." You could say that she's pretty cool for a 6 month old because when you smile at her she smiles right back. After the feeding debacle I tried to feed some other children, but when I put Kanye down she immediately began to bawl. Mind you, all the other infants were hysterical for contact as well and this left me very distraught. So I picked K back up and double armed infants for a while. But ultimately me and little K were a match made. I changed her nappy and discovered the most horrendous diaper rash. It took some angling, but I managed to convince one of the nurses that this child absolutely needed diaper rash cream, which is apparently some sort of delicacy here. Its not suprising that her little bum was so raw; the nappy's they use would probably fit me. And when I was changing her onesie I noticed a chest tube scar and it became apparent that this tiny 6 month old who was born on Valentine's Day had been through way too much in her short life.

I spent the rest of the day with Kanye as a fixture in the crook of my right arm. I remembered my mom saying that swaddling calms infants, so I wrapped her tight hoping she'd feel like she was being held even after I left. But her little cries broke my heart despite all my best efforts.

Love from Brooklyn Chest TB Hospital,

A

Yesterday I met the man above at Robben Island. An ex-political prisoner, he works as a guide where he was once held captive. After watching his pregnant girlfriend get shot in the face, he decided to take action against the apartheid government. In 1980 he attempted to bomb a government building but was caught before completing his mission. His three associates were hung and he was charged with high treason and given a life sentence to be served on the barren and desolate Robben Island. Walking around the Lyme workyard and seeing the 5ft x 5ft cells put me in awe of the gentleman before me. I was blessed with the opportunity to listen to his story of systematic starvation, but how their spirits overcame with the philosophy "each one, teach one." I'm so fortunate to study in a country where iconic individuals still walk the earth.

Toy-gah Toy-gah

South African colloquialism lesson of the day: Tiger Tiger is such a hectic jol. Translation: Tiger Tiger is a crazy party. Now let's add in a little South African accent, shall we? Tiger Tiger would sound a lot like Toy-gah Toy-gah. Once you've got that down, then you have to master the art of saying it in a way that implies you've been there a million times and are unfazed by the chaos. Then, if by chance you're the one in a million who can fake the Cape Town accent (even Leonardo DiCaprio in Blood Diamond failed miserably, according to my local bru) then you just might be able to pass for a local.

Every well off white person in South Africa converges upon Tiger on Tuesday evenings. After a $3 cab ride, split between 5 people (are you kidding me?) we arrived at the red carpet. That was not a joke. There was actually a red carpet. The cover was about $4 - so pricey- but we sprang for it because we had to know what was inside this local watering hole. Once inside we were greeted with the aryan faces of Cape Town's elite. Their blonde eyebrows were tweezed into perfectly quizzical arches that seemed to ask: who the hell are you? We planted ourselves at a table and absorbed our surroundings, which were miles fancier than anywhere else I've been in Africa thus far. We tentatively accepted drinks from men that were wearing more make up than us-- the women here seem to like their men to be manicured in ways I never thought heterosexual. Quickly more and more people filtered in and, to my surprise, they hit the dance floor... and they hit it hard. We journeyed out tentatively and began to dance to the exclusively American jams. Then the evening took an interesting turn... the people around us began to get very wild. Brus were smashing glass bottles on the dance floor. We danced for hours despite profuse bleeding from my finger caused by the bottle throwing.

When we finally got home we were destroyed with exhaustion, our feet were purple from dancing and our legs were burning. The music had been so loud that I couldn't hear anything until after I slept (healthy). And though the night was unexpectedly full of fun in a way we had never pictured, the next day when we were asked what we did the night before, we responded nonchalantly, "Oh you know, Toy-gah Toy-gah."

Last night we went to stones, which is a cool pool hall and I hung out with Junaid and Styx while Marlee and Kat got friendly with some locals. There is a culture of cigarette smoking here and while I obviously don't ascribe to it, it was interesting to watch J and S roll their own with a pouch of tobacco. My guess is that cigarettes are crazy cheap here because the government has bigger problems in the health department and can't be bothered to tax them the way its done in the states. Either way, judging from my first 3 weeks here (wow, that went by quickly!) I've noticed a pretty severe alcohol and cigarette problem. I've said it before and I'll say it again: New Orleans and Cape Town are twin souls.

Love from Toy-gah Toy-gah,

A

Let the games begin

Week one of classes: day 3. I had to drop a 1st period class because I quite literally missed all the lectures this week. My alarm wouldn't cooperate and I took it as nature's way of telling me that an 8 am class simply wasn't in the cards for me. So I've been getting to my Game Theory course, meeting at 9 AM, then International Trade Bargaining at 10 and Medicine in the Making of Modern South Africa at 11. It's nice to be out of class at a reasonable hour and have the rest of the day to myself. I'm getting into the groove of hitting the gym when its not crowded in the early afternoon.

On a more interesting note, UCT's billion students have arrived from all points and converged on campus for the beginning of classes, so we're just starting to meet our peers. I've been pulled into a crowd of hipsters, which makes me feel miles cooler than I actually am. They liked my Nike dunks and decided I had the right vibe and was sufficiently "chilled" enough to fit in with their group. My two better friends in the group are Styx and Junaid. Styx is a tall black kid with a huge afro and awesome style (naturally, as he is a hipster). Junaid is super laid back, loves "trance" music and while he looks like a dark italian, is considered "colored."

I even got to sit with them on The Steps. The Steps provide a forum for mass people watching. All types of people filter up and down with the backdrop of Table Mountain looming on one side and the entire city stretched out in the distance on the other. Just like any school there are students filling types which include but are not limited to: polo-wearing eurotrash, punk rockers, hipsters, fashionistas, shorts-too-short jocks (South Africa hasn't gotten the memo from the 1990's mandating that men lengthen their shorts to above the knee. We get an eyeful of man thigh here) and a whole other spectrum of in betweens.

For as forwad-thinking as some of the fashionable, blackberry carrying students are, this country has not thought so far as machine dryers for clothing. We literally wash our clothes in a washer that's around a square foot in size and then hang our clothing on lines. The things we take for granted, man.

More later about Tiger Tiger last night. Two words to tease you: EURO TRASH.

My love from The Steps,

A

Ode to Mini Bus Taxis

This one goes out to a phenomenon in South Africa that I call The Mini Bus Taxi-- or "Kumvees." Woah, that spelling is wildly unclear and probably inaccurate.

Here in South Africa not everyone can afford an 100R or 120R cab ride to the Waterfront (this is around $14-17). For this reason, society came together to create the kumvee. Envision a large mini van where the interior has been altered to jam as many people inside as possible. Seats have been replaced by benches that fold down so people can climb over eachother in an effort to hitch a ride. Massive speakers that probably cost more than the car vibrate the vehicle and its contents with the Kumvee driver's favorite tunes (ranging from 80's Whitney Housten to SA hip hop to the latest Justin Bieber album). These things are EVERYWHERE. Living on Main Road I hear the cries of the part of the operation that I refer to as "the yeller": a guy that rides in the back with the passengers and shouts out the window at people walking to get into the kumvee. "WINEBERGGGGG!!!!" or "CAAAAYYYPEEE TOWWUUN" peppers the soundtrack of whizzing mufflerless 18 wheelers and honking locals. This is my version of bedtime magic.

These bus taxis cost around 6R or $0.75 for a 30 minute cab ride that can't be described on any planet as glamorous. You never know where you're going to end up in the back... perhaps sandwiched between a woman carrying her baby around on her back with a towel and someone who hasn't bathed in 3 weeks. Or you might get lucky and find yourself next to a sharp dressed business man on his way to anywhere and a colored hipster who's too cool to glace your direction. Its an exotic mix of rich and poor, old and young. Trendy, ugly, intriguing, annoyed. And then there's us. Eyes wide. Heads moving along with the music coming out the speakers, thinking: this is like nothing I've ever known.

Because in our country we pay to never get this close. Our seats are wider. Our disdain for human contact more pressing than our desire to save money. Here this is a way of life, forced upon those who have no other option, and chosen by those who know how lucky they are to have the choice.

One small downside is that these kumvees are not safe to ride in after dark or alone. Naturally they turn into rape vans when the sun sets-- strange that the notion feels natural. The kumvee companies are apparently also involved in gang wars and I will unhappily report that I witnessed The Yeller in our kumvee get into a fist fight with someone on the street.

Concessions made and put aside, when used judiciously these mini bus taxis are an extremely affordable and efficient way to get around town. They make me wonder: why can't New Orleans figure rip a page out of Cape Town's book?

Love from my new favorite mode of transportation,


A

Getting Vertical

Howzit, my friends? That's a little SA lingo for y'all. Sorry it's been a while... You know how it is. I've fully recovered and am happy to report that I'm off the food tolerance drugs (proton pump inhibitors if we want to get really specific). THANK GOD.

If there's one thing that South Africa is teaching me, its to be more patient. The lack of electronic-based registration made signing up for courses an absolute logistical nightmare. People stood in line after line for hours on end to get their selections approved, then to enter the information into a database, then to get their poorly lit photo taken for their ID card. Luckily, I'm a commerce student and there were many fewer people trying to register than in the faculty of humanities. Either way, it was 4 hours of waiting in line.

Alas, it's done now and I'm officially registered for Game Theory, Development Econ, Trade Bargaining (really cool course where you're assigned a country and try to negociate with others), and Chemistry of Health and Disease. Many drop one of these courses in favor of picking up some Afrikaans... it would be interesting to know what people are saying when they rapidly interchange.

I have been immersing myself much more than at first and I'm proud to report that I went out with some South African girls on Thursday night with Marlee in tow. They had us over at their apartment and they gave us a run down of how relationships work here in SA. Here's what I gathered:

Women and men who are dating both cheat on each other regularly. But they mustn't give their boyfriend or girlfriend any indication that its happening. Lerato informed me that "if your boyfriend isn't lying to you, you're doing something wrong."

I was also shocked to hear that the men that these girls have extra-relationship affairs with are often wealthy and paying their tuition, buying them clothing, jewelry and alcohol. When I tried to make sense of this I used the term "sugar daddy" which they rejected fully on the grounds that sugar daddy implies the men are old, which they are not (they are around 35 in most cases). They call these men their BDD's. I don't know what that stands for yet, but I will keep you posted.

Something else that took my breath away: hiking to the monument yesterday! Hiking is a really popular activity here so my friend Spencer from Oregon and I finished with registration and decided to check out the gorgeous Roman-esque monument carved into the side of Table Mountain. Spencer had heard of a restaurant behind it so we went to explore but unfortunately found that it was closed due to vandalism. We DID find an incredible garden area that overlooks the entire city. It was definitely a gem. After we hiked down we proceeded to play 3 hours of volleyball with Quinton, the program director, and a ton of other CIEE people. I had to try hard to represent female athleticism as I was the only girl playing, but it ended up being really fun.

Today, myself, Spencer and some other friends have plans to go to Camps Bay-- one of the most beautiful beaches in Cape Town. The weather's starting to get warmer and we're all excited to spend some time outside. Marlee is hiking Devil's Peak, which I hope to do soon as well once I'm feeling 100%, as it is a 5 hour vertical climb.


Love from the back of a lion,


A

The most romantic thing that's ever happened to Marlee and I

This picture pretty much sums up the most romantic moment of our lives. As the note implies, we met a couple guys at this place called stones who go to UCT. They took us for milkshakes at Pickwicks and then we parted ways thinking we'd never see them again. When Marlee and I got home from town, Kat handed us an adorable note they'd dropped off at our house when they noticed our billboard driving by. American men, take note.

I've recovered from from the evil parasitic food poisoning that left me completely dead yesterday. I threw up 15 times over the space of 12 hours and when Marlee came home I was too feverish, dehydrated and weak to move. She nursed me back to health and once I'd taken some sports drink and panado (some sort of African drug brought to me by RA) I was feeling a million times better. I slept for arouns 11 hours last night and awoke this morning feeling STARVING and actually looking like I'd dropped 10 lbs in a day. Luckily Cocoa Wah Wah solved that problem for me and I got a chocolate and almond croissant for breakfast. Food has never tasted so good.

Today we've got another round of UCT orientation beginning at 1 pm and hopefully we'll learn more about course registration etc. It's nice to begin to feel settled in and I cannot wait for classes and community service to begin! A gym membership would be a nice perk, as well!

Love from the "score safely" house,

A

Marlee and Me

We have moved into our flat on 2 Mead0w Street AKA "Roxy"! Marlee and I have a MASSIVE room on the second floor street side. Its certainly not the ritziest of flats as we have mangled bars on the windows and a massive billboard that says "SCORE SAFELY" advertising condom use on the side of it but we're lucky to have a security guard who watches over us during the night-- he even went so far as to radio the guard at Nursery house to escort us to the internet cafe in Rondebosch this evening.

Its the feeling of being on constant edge that gets you. Groups of women walking around here are not safe from dusk on. Even during the day we're bombarded by the poor and addicted for money or food. They're different from the homeless in the US because they don't have anywhere to go. There aren't soup kitchens and shelters and government sponsored rehabilitation programs. Its as if God has turned his back on these people. And its policy to not give beggars money because there are simply too many of them. Its a desperation that I've never known. This is the starving Africa you see on TV, and its on the doorstep of the wealthy who continue to retain their economic dominance post-Apartheid.

The racial tension hit me like a slap in the face. Some Black or Colored South Africans (there is a difference) look on White Americans with disdain, and others with admiration for the things we have that we may not deserve. South Africa has the largest race-based income disparity in the world, where the wealthiest 10% make almost 50% of the income and the poorest 20% only around 3%. In more ways then I can mention this place is a more extreme version of New Orleans ranging from the socio-economic climate to the Bourbon-esque Long Street.

On a lighter note, today I discovered the joys of "Brai" pronounced "bry" which is barbeque. These are very popular all over South Africa. We ate lamb and salad and potatoes that were all seasoned with novel spices. I was pleased to try new things, but last night at The African Palace I most certainly passed on the Ox Tail that was served... no thanks. There was also coke light, which is kind of like coke zero-- diet coke doesn't exist here.

Peering out the Cocoa Wah-Wah window at the cars rushing by with a green tea in my hand and Marlee to my right, I feel a moment of serenity and security that will be rare during these 4 months. The energy of young country were people dance when they are angry and fight with their fists instead of their words electrifies me. It shakes me hard, but it can also hold me in its arms.

All my love from Roxy,

A

The Lead Singer in a Rock Band

Out on Long Street last night, I had my first taste of fame, dear readers. With all the whirling excitement in this city, my fellow program-mates and I had been indulging a bit too regularly, so last night I resigned myself to completely abstain from all things alcoholic. I assumed wrongly that I wouldn't have as much fun last night as my friends... boy was I wrong. At first I had to push myself to socialize with my chatty and overly sociable counterparts, but as the evening went on and we changed location to a bar with an awesome cover band I discovered that the real glory of the night was still mine to be won. While dancing inside the completely packed Dubliner (we're talking 100+ people), the lead singer of the cover band pulled me on stage with him and handed me the microphone to sing a song. After it as over, I went to leave and he invited me to sing another... and then another... and then another. My friends and I decided it was time to go so I finished the set (!!!) and hopped off the stage, but before I left I was invited to come back on Sunday evening. Is this real life?

Every rose has its thorn, as they say. And while I woke up feeling pretty good, I opened my mouth to speak and discovered that last night's vocals caused a total system shutdown. My voice has been cracking like a little boy's all day but I have to say that it was completely worth it.

Later in the evening we returned to the first bar called "The Waiting Room" and were allowed up to the rooftop area. From there we could see the entire Cape Town skyline and it was really a beautiful thing.

This morning we rose early to visit possible service sites for our time abroad. The one that most interests me is a pediatric TB hospital. The children are not contagious but they are very lonely and scared because they are forced to live in the home without their parents until their course of treatment is complete. When we visited today, a certain little boy looked up at me and cried "mama!" then hopped into my arms and put his head on my shoulder. He whimpered when I left but I promised him I'd come back. I took some pictures of him and the other children that I hope to post as soon as I solve my computer woes.

In other news, tomorrow is Move-In Day! I can't believe it! I'm living in a house with 15 other students (11 female, 4 male) from my program. I'll be sharing a room with my friend Marlee from Connecticut-- I can't sum up how awesome she is in words but she and I have had the opportunity to get some classic roommate pictures that I think sum up the friendship so far. Our place has great location in Rondebosch which is the town area by campus. I think its going to be an Animal House situation with all of us living in there, so I'm bracing to hold on to my hat for this one.

But luckily, if I forget to hold on to my hat, I can always buy a new one for CHEAP. Here's a rundown of how outrageous pricing is here:

1. Good meal - 50 rand or $7
2. 20 minute cab ride - 15 rand or $2
3. Cocktail - 24 rand or a little over $3

It obviously depends where you are because in touristy or rich areas pricing is inflated but its still shocking to be able to get around so cheaply when I'm used to dropping $30 on a cab in NOLA just to get to Tulane from the airport.

It is time for a nap before Marlee and I hit up the Cocoa Wah-Wah for some coffee and interneting and possibly some warm clothing finding... ITS FREEZING HERE! Cross your fingers for it to warm up!

Love from Long Street,

A

A post dedicated to Eric

Eric would like a shout out in my blog because it will make him feel like a celebrity. So readers, before I get into today's post, I would just like to say that Eric is a massively attractive and tall Scandanavian Christian looking for love in South Africa. If he sounds like someone you want to get to know a little better, he lives Graca til Saturday and is now accepting dates.

Moving on, today has been eventful. I woke up with terrible dry mouth due to last night's wino tendencies and was being chronically annoyed by the laughter of some housekeeping staff in the hallway. After trying unsuccessfully to fall back asleep, I crawled out of my neat little bed and stumbled into the hallway looking for water and for someone to feel sorry for me. What I found instead was 30 of my new program-mates arriving from the airport with suitcases in tow looking wide-eyed. I managed to get out a hello before walking contact-less to the elevator in search of liquid. I located some orange juice and began to feel revived.

We moved rooms today and I was so excited to arrange living with Carrie for the next few days. Carrie is a carefree California girl whose claim to fame is good driving abilities. She goes to Occidental College in SF and we're definitely on a similar wavelength which is really nice. After hounding the other members of a group we have dubbed "The Orphanage" I finally got my people together to get breakfast at our new favorite spot... DRUM ROLL: The Cocoa Wah-Wah. This place is the absolute BOMB. It's a little breakfast place on Main Road that has great coffee crack and a delicious breakfast menu. We ran into a couple girls from Middlebury who had gone out on the town the night before and apparently 6 shooters for 30R had them out until 5 AM and still feeling the effects when we ran into them at 11 AM.

From breakfast we met up with the whole CIEE contigency for lunch... which we were not hungry for, oops. But it was nice to meet some more people that were not members of The Orphanage. Not to digress, but during a wine-infused discussion I discovered that my fellow foster friends enjoy having profound religious chats while under the influence... not entirely my scene, so I was excited to meet more people.

After lunch we took a stroll to Main Road and I bought some gorgeous black knee boots for under $50 US. SUCH A STEAL. literally, I couldn't envision a more perfect pair. A first group meeting went off without a hitch, except when our program leader called us out publically for bringing home the shittiest boxed wine in south africa last night. These people have a great sense of humor :)

Dinner was really good in the dining hall and now as I post this blog I am passing a bit of time before my friends and I go out on the town for a short time. Tomorrow's going to be a big day and its going to start early so we can't be out for long, but we're all too excited about discovering our new city to stay in the rooms.

Love from 9C5 Graca Mechal Residence,


A

"I'm a hustler, and I've just been hustled... by a vending machine" -Pumi

OK. so I met a new friend last night as I was leaving the computer lab... his name is Msakha. He is a student that works at the computer lab and is a radio DJ. He was so friendly to me and offered to take me to a bar called "CyBar" to watch the World Cup and drink a beer. I decided that my aloneness was more dangerous than going somewhere with a stranger so I took a gamble on this fellow. He turned out to be one of the nicest people I've ever met-- he showed me a Cape Town welcome, introduced me to some really nice SA girls and bought me a couple beers before making sure I got back to my room safely. The scene in the bar when Spain won the World Cup rivaled New Orleans post-super bowl. People were dancing on tables and shouting along to "Wave Your Flag"-- a song that is super popular here due to the world cup. I'll agree that its terribly catchy and fun to sing when drinking. He offered to take me to the townships today but I instead went with a group of CIEE students to do some exploring. This was partially because I wanted to get to know the other students in my program and partially because I feared being put into a wedding sack when we arrived at the township (joking... sort of).

Today I hung out with the kids in my program. They're hysterical! We hopped in a cab and went to the waterfront to explore and shop a bit. First we hit up a restaurant for our first real meal in days. I won't go into details, but there were nachos involved. Then we wandered around through markets and got a feel for the lay of the land. I want to keep saying how beautiful it is, but I can't really do it justice. We discovered the joys of "photo bombing" in foreign countries. People will run into your pictures and demand you pay them for it. I was like "gee thanks for ruining my picture. I definitely want to give you some rand for that." What a strange phenomenon.

As for tonight, we're all going to take a little napsy then hold our very own ABC party... which for those of you following along at home stands for Anything But Clothes. There will be wine. There will be shenanigans.

I've never felt so instantly certain of my own impending happiness.

Love from the top of Table Mountain,

A

So tired I slept through a fire alarm

I don't know where to begin! A 4 hour nap was enough to make me feel like a person again, but I feel as though my brain is mashed potatoes. I'm sitting in the UCT computer lab which is right across from the room I'm staying in. I guess I should start from the beginning...

Upon arriving to New York I made a few new friends in the airport-- a couple of guys going to Jo-berg to film a documentary about crime and a couple of women taking a guided tour of countries in Southern Africa. They helped the time pass in the airport terminal and were luckily as overtired and silly as I was so naturally the conversation led to hysterical laughter. At 11 we boarded the jumbo jet slated to carry us to the other side of the world and I was seated next to a statuesque woman who looked to be in her mid-30's. I determined a couple things very quickly. 1. this woman was a lawyer from New York and 2. she was not happy about being in coach. We cut the bullshit and mutually agreed to do whatever necessary to secure ourselves vacant rows. It wasn't easy but some cunning angling on this nearly full flight successfully seperated us.

In retrospect, nothing was going to make this flight more enjoyable. Together or alone in a row, no one on this flight was going to sleep between the frequent turbulence, weird smelling asian man, and seats as hard as benches.

But it was a means to an end. With 2 hours to go on the flight, God granted me a reprive and I met one of the founders of Kreuger National Park. He talked to me and another new friend of mine for a couple of hours in the back of the plane about his conservation work in Africa. What an interesting character, he was! Then watching the sunrise over Namibia from the window seat was stunning and arriving in Johannesberg after 2 nights without sleep was enough to bring me to tears.

And the 2 hour layover was a fight to stay alert. I slept through my business class flight to Cape Town... I have never been so exhausted.

Comp. Lab's closing. I will update this tomorrow.

All my love from Cape Town,

A

Oh, this is the start of something good. Don't you agree?

This is the blog I'll be using to share my adventures and experiences while abroad in Cape Town, South Africa for the next 4.5 months.

Currently, departure day less than 3 weeks out and I look forward to it, but with a heavy heart. I've had a great couple months at home catching up with my family and getting to know an amazing little boy I've been taking care of and his awesome mom. I also had the opportunity to get back to SBP and lifeguard for a while which was heavy on the nostalgia and light on the responsibility-- my kind of work.

While I'll certainly look back when I leave this time unlike the first time I hopped on a plane to leave home, I'm ready to begin this journey. The clock's counting down the seconds until the weight of my white coat will cage me in New Orleans and now is the time for me to enjoy being free. So I'm tearing up my roots again to see what else is out there.

If it moves you, use this blog to come with me. I'll do my best to update it often with pictures, stories, and introductions for all the people I meet.

My Love Over Oceans,

A