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