Just a Little Meat

Although in my last post I attempted to rid of the expression “the true African experience,” today we went to a place in hopes of obtaining just that. I have explained how diverse this country is, not only through race, but also through socioeconomic statuses, lifestyles, and cultures. There is no one way of doing things in South Africa, which makes this country that much more intriguing to me. Today we went to a braai, which is the South African term that refers to an American barbeque, only better. We have had several braais since we have arrived, whether at UCT, our apartments, or the house of a friend. However this braai was much, much different. We went to a famous braai, called Mzoli's, in the middle of a nearby township. When we all packed into a minibus taxi at about 11::00 this morning, we knew that we would be venturing out to a place that was a bit different than anything we had ever seen. Still, no talk that I had received about culture shock or lifestyle differences could have prepared me for the ride into Mzoli's. As we got closer and closer, we looked out the window to see hundreds upon hundreds of tiny, broken down shacks where the people of the township took residency. Honestly, it was quite depressing to pass by the pathetic little “buildings” that to us, looked like old, abandoned sheds, but to the people of this community, were called home. I was amazed to think about the fact that all that was needed in their lives was packed into such a little place that would barely seem fit for a bathroom in the States, let alone an entire house.

As we continued through the township, I was overwhelmed with mixed feelings of sorrow and embarrassment. Sorrow, being the more obvious of the two emotions, came as I looked at the people walking through the dirt paths from shack to shack, with their rugged bearings. Embarrassment, on the other hand, was a feeling that I found myself explaining to others as I expressed my uncomfortableness with our surroundings. I was not embarrassed for the people who lack so much of the luxury that I have been fortunate to experience throughout my life. Instead, I was embarrassed for us, a group of wealthy Americans in sundresses with cameras in tow, coming to look at the town as if it was some spectacle. Yes, maybe to us this place was quite a sight to see. I am sorry to admit that I had my camera out taking pictures of the shacks and the stores along the road. But to the people of South Africa, this was their life. And here we were coming through to marvel at other’s misfortunes. It was a bit embarrassing and very uncomfortable. However, it was a learning experience, and that I am grateful for. Like many of the things that I have done in Africa thus far, today’s trip allowed me to build upon my increasing appreciation for the people that I have in my life and what they have done to make all that I have experience and achieved possible.

Once we got into the braai, itself, we were able to see what the fuss was all about. Let me tell you, Mzoli's did not disappoint. From the second we entered, we were bombarded by mounds of meat. There were steaks, sausages, chickens, and so much more that I could not even recognize. Much to my dismay, the food was not yet cooked and we had to place our order as we watched them grab at the pieces of raw meat. Then, we would take the plate piled with food to the back room where the cooks would place it on the oven. As we waited for the food, we went into the outside dining area, where the expression “utter chaos” would be considered a complete understatement. People filled the crowded area as they ate, drank, danced, and talked with one another. We stopped by a few of the vendors along the edges of the braai that were selling jewelry, sunglasses, hats, and all the usually things. Once time had passed, we got our food and sat down to feast on all of the meat that was finally in our possession. The day was extremely overwhelming, but all in all very fun and quite the experience. I hope to go back to Mzoli's in the future, as every Sunday is a fun day around there, and we sure wouldn’t want to miss out on a good time. 

Just a few of my shark pictures...no big deal

The "True African Experience"

Ever since I decided to come to South Africa, I have been bombarded with people questioning me as to whether or not I will be getting the “true African experience.” When I first heard these words, I was able to create a nice picture that I thought very fitting of the African experience. The image that I generated, I am embarrassed to say, would be all too familiar to any Disney fan who has happened to watch The Lion King one too many times. However after being in Africa for over a month, I seemed to have lost the idea that all of Africa is just one big mass of land where animals ran wild and people wore nothing but loincloths and war paint. Ok, so I pictured it a big more civilized that that, but you get the idea. Instead I have come to a place that embodies a variety of people, from a number of different cultures, who all lead very distinctive lifestyles. There many people that still hold on to the traditional lifestyle of Africa that one would imagine, where they perform rituals and incorporate music and dance in their daily activities. There are some who are just your typical city person and walk to and from work in a tall, modern business building downtown. Others are your typical beach bums who look much like those that cover the sands of California, surfing and drinking all day and night. And then you have the Afrikaans who descend from the original Dutch settlers in Cape Town and are much like your characteristic White, wealthy Europeans. Because of the vast array of people and cultures that exist in this city, it has become hard for me to pinpoint what exactly the “true African experience” really is. The point of this introduction is to say that while I am planning several activities within the next month that will enable me to experience what I previously considered the real Africa, I would like to share with you my broadening view of what the people of this continent are really like.

            With all of that said, I would now like to talk about my adventures this past weekend which, in my opinion, allowed me to see even more of the land and the culture of South Africa than I have thus far. Being an international student at UCT, I get to choose three societies (clubs) to join for free, in order to promote the involvement of foreign students in the school’s organizations. One of the societies that I was dying to join was the Mountain and Ski Society. I knew that this club would give me a chance to explore areas of South Africa that I might not have heard of under the guide of local students who were my age. In my opinion, this provided a more authentic experience as I could relate to and form friendships with the students as opposed to a tour guide, and get to see what people my age do in their time off.

            This weekend we kicked off the start of Mountain and Ski with an overnight hike in a mountain range about 2 hours from campus that is actually owned by the UCT society. We found a ride with a third-year engineer named Luke. He took us all the way to the mountain where we met up with the other cars, packed up our bags, and got the show on the road. After the first 20 minutes of the hike, we reached a large dam surrounded by a lake full of water. Here we took off our bags and got into our bathing suits. We took a nice relaxing dip in the water to cool off as it was just reaching about the hottest point of the day. While we were looking for a soothing, leisurely swim, others were seeking a bit more of an adventure as they went straight to the top of the dam with the intention of jumping off into the water. One by one people would launch their bodies into the air only to end their fall with a large slap into the water. A few brave, maybe even a little bit mentally unstable, students actually tore off all of their clothes and went in completely nude. Now that was not something that I was expecting to see at any point, let alone so early in the afternoon. After seeing the excitement on the faces of each person as they flew threw the air, and even when their heads popped up from underwater, I knew that I had to give it a go. With a bit of convincing, I was able to coax both of my friends to join me in my jump off of the dam. When we reached the top, we got an encouraging countdown from tour audience that really got the adrenaline to kick in. at the sound of the word “one” we put all our fears behind and released our clenching hands from the top of the dam. I felt such a rush as I fell through the air and hit the water with great force. I was so happy to have done the jump and could not wait to experience what more the rest of the hike had to offer.

            After we took time to enjoy our lunch, we took off to complete the rest of the climb. On our way up we ran into a wonderful little guy named Richard who seemed to me like a somewhat younger, more polished version of the crocodile hunter. He literally knew everything and anything there was to know about our surroundings and wildlife in South Africa. Richard had grown up on a farm in northern South Africa where they kept a variety of animals, ranging from your average pet dog to 3 crocodiles to a number of ostriches. He comes from a family of veterinarians, including both of his parents as well as several of his grandparents. Richard had traveled throughout much of southern Africa and knew the ins and outs of the surrounding mountains, parks, and deltas. He proved to be extremely helpful throughout the entire trip as he stopped to show us wild animal tracks or point out birds flying through the air, made sure we were supplied with snacks and coffee in the morning, set up our rock climbing equipment, and made sure to lead us on our way back down the next morning. If you have not already noticed, me friends and I were quite keen on Richard, as they would say in South Africa. While he was not your typical Prince Charming, he somehow had a unique charm as a result of his humble, yet endless supply of knowledge.

            Anyway, enough about Richard. God forbid he ever see this and think I am completely nuts. When we finally reached our campsite, which I might add looked nothing like a place that I would ever just drop my bags and roll out to sleep, we set up our sleeping bags in a “bare spot” just big enough for the three of us to fit “comfortably.” Excuse my frequent use of quotations but I find them completely necessary due to the lack of comfort in which we were forced to sleep. Next to our campsite we found a beautiful collection of natural rock pools where we were able to sit back, relax, and refresh ourselves from the long day of hiking. While the majority of people took position down on the edge of the larger rock pool, we managed to find a nice little pool overlooking the rest of the water. For the next few hours we made this little hot tub our sanctuary as various South Africans came in and out to start up conversation. Above the larger rock pool down below, there was a high rock that provided a likely source of entertainment as people would leap off into the air and fall into the water. The entire afternoon consisted of us lying around soaking in the sun, amusing ourselves among the rocks, and striking up interesting conversations with our South African company.

            Later that night, a party was set up at the base of our campsite. A group of ambitious hikers had actually trekked all the way up the mountain carrying 3 kegs of beer above their heads on two long wooden poles. God knows how they managed to do it, but it sure proved to be worth it to them as they got the party rolling before sunset. Throughout the night, people enjoyed the drinks and the snacks that were provided, but more importantly we were given time to get to know people that came from all different backgrounds. The three of us were able to spend a great deal of time with a South African who had spent all of his childhood in Japan due to his missionary parents. We also met a guy from the Netherlands, who was not shy to share his opinion on the arrogant and ignorant Americans. Of course we did our best to nip these stereotypes in the bud but who knows how successful we truly were.

            During all of the excitement of meeting new people and watching some of our fellow hikers enjoy one too many drinks, we could not forget about our darling Richard who was rock climbing off to the side with a couple of friends. Without having to be too persuasive, he coaxed us into giving it a try, despite the fact that at this point the sun was completely sunk and there was little to no light to be seen. Of course we were not to worry because Richard came prepared with his head torch that provided just enough light to see the rock that we would be climbing. It was really quite the experience getting to climb something a bit more authentic than the rock walls that I have become accustomed to seeing at birthday parties or in school gyms. Not only did we get the chance to climb on a real mountain, but as we ascended to the top, we could look out into the sky to see the moon rising to fill the mountain with light. It was an incredible sight to see the light creep out onto our campsite and watch the complete blackness suddenly turn into the familiar sight of the people and our belongings. After our climb and a bit more conversing with the South Africans who were becoming increasingly more crazed by the minute, we decided to call it a night and return to our luxurious, and oh so spacious, set up across the camp. The night was not so relaxing as the latter part of the day had been, due to our lack of a bed mat (we were mistaken by assuming that a sleeping bag would suffice), but we made it through the night with only a few bumps and bruises as a result of the spread of pebbles lying beneath our bodies.

            All in all the weekend hike was a tremendous success. We were able to venture even more out of our comfort zones by leaving our Interstudy group of abroad students and staying overnight with a bunch of local UCT students. As I said before, I am not completely certain as to what the “true African experience” is, but we have exposed ourselves to yet another aspect of South African life that has enabled us to add on to the plentiful list of experiences that we have encountered in attempt to better understand this country and its people. 

Some pictures from my hike! New post coming soon!!

Jumping from the top of the dam

Me mountain climbing in the dark of the night

Enjoying some sparkling apple cider in the natural rock pool near our campsite

Before going to sleep in my not so comfortable sleeping bag

Caitlin, Grace, and me as we set up camp

Hanging out in the natural rock pools

The lower rock pool with a jump that people went off up top

Caitlin, Me, and Grace getting ready to go out (not from the hike if you couldn't tell)

Vacation's Over.

So not a lot has gone on since the start of this week that many would be interested in reading, but that is not to say that I have not been extremely busy with things here in Africa. First of all, it is safe to say that vacation is over. We have officially started classes. And by officially, I mean that classrooms are being filled with hundreds of international and first-year students, as the upperclassmen have not felt the need to join us in our woes just yet. I would like to compare my first week of varsity (how they refer to school in South Africa) to that of freshman year at Trinity. In both cases I entered a new place, with all new faces, and that sense of confusion and chaos as I rushed around trying to find my classroom in a timely fashion. However, there is so much more uncertainty added to that process when you are put in a foreign country, a third world country at that, and have become an international student. I have had to wait in line to register for classes, only hoping that I would qualify by the University’s standards and be able to fit it into my schedule. I have had to wait in several endlessly long lines in order to obtain my student ID card that will allow me access to places, such as the library, the outdoor pool (which I have frequented already), and several computer labs. I have waited in line to sign up for societies (comparable to clubs in America) and sports organizations. It should be clear by now that a lot of my time from the end of last week up until this week has been spent standing impatiently and sweating profusely in long lines to do things that in America would be as simple as logging in online and pressing at most, 5 buttons, to accomplish. Well as the title as my blog reads, TIA: This is Africa. Enough said.

In coming to South Africa, I had made sure to prepare myself within my major by taking enough class that I could go abroad and study classes that were completely unrelated to psychology. While some my find this academic semester a complete waste of time because it does not necessarily coincide with what I am going to school for and what I plan to do in my life, I beg to differ. I do not see the point in going to a foreign country, with hopes of immersing myself in an entirely different culture and gaining a new perspective on the world, and taking classes that are so specific to the subject matter of psychology. Why not take classes that I would have no chance of taking back in the states and really getting a chance to learn, first hand, what the culture of South Africa is all about. With that frame of mind, I have come to choose a schedule that consist of three classes (in addition to my Trinity class with Dr. Moore): Sex, Love, and Taboo; Afrikaans; and African Instruments.

The first class, called Sex, Love, and Taboo is a class that focuses not on the actual activities involved in love and sexuality, but rather the vocabularies of African languages with regard to sex, love, and taboo. It is a class that compares how different languages in South Africa are used to discuss and express feelings about these sorts of topics. In our first reading, we learned about the everlasting debate as to whether language shapes the way we perceive the world or whether the way we see the world influences how we form our language. It is an interesting dispute as you think about the categories that we put things into based on the words that we have within our language. If we do not have a word for a given concept or object, does that mean that we do not recognize its existence? We discussed how the words of a language can often represent what is important in a given culture. For example, in certain regions of Canada, there are over 13 different terms for the different conditions of snow, as opposed to the few words that are used to describe snow and ice in many places of the world. This signifies the prevalence of snow within this culture and the importance it has to these people in comparison to members of more subtropical climates, where the only form of frozen water they have ever seen is in ice cube trays in their freezers. Well that is a brief summary of the information that we went over in our first lecture, so hopefully it provides a little food for thought for those interested.

The second class that I have enrolled in is the language of Afrikaans, which is one of the 13 languages spoken in South Africa. Because English is the predominant language in much of Cape Town, and is the language of instruction at UCT, I did not have to come into the semester with any prerequisites that are often common among students going to study in Europe or South America. However, I could not seem to get past the idea of learning such a cultured language that comes from the very country in which I am living for the next 4 months. No, it may not be practical in the long run because I am fairly positive that South Africa is the only country that really recognizes the language, but it was a subject of great interest to me so I went ahead with my desire to learn Afrikaans. So far we have learned how to meet and greet people and are currently going over subject pronouns so that we can have the basics mastered when we go on to more complicated dialogue.

The final class that I am taking at the University of Cape Town is African Instruments. In this class, we will learn how to play several different instruments native to the continent of Africa. This class consists of meetings with a small group of 5 or 6 people for intensive learning, as well as a larger ensemble in which we play with a group of 20 or so students. The instruments that have been shown and listed as being used for the class are as follows: East African Kiganda xylophones, West African djembe, Central African Kundi harps, Mangwilo and Mongolongondo xylophones, and several others from the country of South Africa. Now I cannot tell you what any of these mean or how they are played, but I am hoping that after a semester’s work I might even be good enough to come back to America and start recording with some of the big shots. Coming from absolutely no previous musical experience, and having been told on countless occasions that I am tone deaf, this should be a course that really challenges me in ways that I have not seen before.

I am hoping that the combination of these three classes, in addition to the course taught by Sibs, I will have finished my semester with exactly what I have come to accomplish. I am looking to learn about the South African culture and while I understand that I cannot become a true part of the South African people, I hope that I can gain a better conception about who these people are and how they live their lives.

A preview of pictures...hopefully more/better to come with my underwater camera!

A shark making its way towards our boat

A closer view of the shark from our boat

A look at how close the shark gets to the cage

Post-diving in our flattering wetsuits

Us wearing the funky orange jackets

Just Your Average Day in Shark Alley

Overall, this entire week has been a whirlwind of activities that are all new and exciting. Yesterday, however, the words new and exciting took on a whole new meaning for me as I went nowhere near anything I have ever done before and took on shark cage diving at Shark Alley. A combination of building nerves and catching up with friends from home kept me up the entire night, right up until I was picked up at 6:30 am by the van. Going into the day without sleep was an interesting choice for me as I reached a state of complete delirium once we finally got on the boat. Honestly, I think it ended up being a good decision as my condition kept me from thinking about the intensity of what I was about to do, at least for the time being. When we got on the boat, we were given large funny looking orange jackets to keep warm in the wind. Then we were told that we were going about 9 kilometers into the water where the shark “hotspot” was said to be. Our boat took off with much more speed than I anticipated as I almost fell right on my face from the bump of the initial wave. We kept calm and entertained by singing songs, like “I Will Survive,” “I’m a Survivor,” “It’s the End of the World as We Know It,” and whatever pirate/sea tunes that we could think of. To be honest, we were being rather obnoxious, but I was in my own little world and nothing was going to stop me from having some fun on the way out to our potential death.

            On our way to the hotspot we passed by Seal Island, which much to my surprise, was actually quite fitting to its name as hundreds upon hundreds of seals covered the land. It was in fact called Seal Island, so why was I surprised? Well of course I supposed that we would see a lot of seals, but I did not anticipate that they would cover every square inch of land, some even positioning themselves on another. I actually found it to be quite disgusting as the wretched smell arose from the island and the sounds of mooing and shrieking hit the boat. After a few pictures and some videos of the animals stupidly waddling from side to side, I was ready to get a move on towards bigger and better things. When we finally anchored, we were given instructions on how to use the cage and how to best see the sharks passing by. I think this was the time at which my nerves were supposed to sink in as I realized what exactly I was getting myself into, but instead a rush of adrenaline ran its way through my body. This was a feeling that I had never experienced before because I was so foreign to the concept of shark cage diving. All my life I had been told to stay out of the water if the fin of a shark was ever spotted and now I was diving right into water deliberately filled with tuna blood and seal decoys to attract sharks? Did not seem to make sense, but I loved every second of it.

            When it came my group’s turn to dive, I put on my sleek, oh so flattering, wetsuit and goofy looking goggles. Underwater camera in tow, I jumped down into the ice-cold water into the metal cage. Honest to God, right as I went underwater I was face to face with the beast itself. One of the sharks had come right up to the cage but had quickly raced away before I could get snap a picture. Wow. I was in for it now and there was no turning back. It’s funny I have never considered myself to be someone particularly good at holding my breath underwater, in fact I have always thought that this was an area in which I struggled, but let me tell you I think that I had to have been submerged for at least 85% of the time. As we listened to our instructor shout, “Left! Left! Left, divers!” or “In the middle! Near the decoy!” we raced our heads around to catch the preying sharks. They had no shame in coming right up to the cage and thrashing through the water, fighting for the lingering tuna. For my first shift, I was on the corner of the cage so I would see the entire shark’s body pass by me, inches away, to reach the bait in the middle. Their long, grey bodies racing by would send shivers up my spine, as I had to return up out of the water for some air. We would see one, two, three, even four sharks at one time, all fighting for the bait put in front of us. For some reason I was not scared one bit even as I saw their sharp white teeth grasping at and shaking the bait with strong force. Once my shift was over, we climbed out of the cage only to hear the sharks whipping around in the water that surrounded us. It was so cold coming back onto the ship and it was then that the fact that we were in the middle of the ocean really sank in….especially with my stomach. The slow rocking of the waves was not settling well as the nausea built up more and more. I ended up getting a little bit seasick just in time to make it to my next shift in the water. I struggles to get back into gear and was relieved to get back into the water, no matter how cold it was, and rid of that awful feeling in my stomach.

            In this shift I was placed dead center of the cage. Now this is where all the action was. I had thought myself very lucky to be on the side in my previous shift and getting to see the build up of the shark’s attack, but the middle was a whole new experience. The sharks would come right up to me. Not their side, not their tail, but their face in mine, dead on. Their bodies would rise up right before my eyes and jump through the water for the bait floating at the top. It was truly amazing getting to see first hand these insanely wild, terribly feared animals living in their own world and attacking their prey. I know that we have all caught a few scenes of shark week here and there (which I am thankful I will not be featured on), but being able to see the sharks up close and personal really adds a whole new element. I know that I sound like a broken record repeating the same verse about how this was “breathtaking,” “the experience of a lifetime,” or “the best thing I have ever done,” but I’m not going to apologize because everything I have done here has been so incredible in its own way and I am just trying to take in every moment of it.  

On the cannon at the first stop of our hike

See those rocks? Yeah we climbed, not walked, up them

Just hanging out..

One of the ledges that we had to shimmy across

Looks like I'm just on a rock but it's a straight drop off the other side

At the very top of the mountain

Meadow on the way back down

This is So Not What I Signed Up For

So in addition to wine tasting, a hike up Devil’s Peak was offered as a one-day excursion for the week before classes. Of course all of us being so gung-ho about getting to see South Africa and all it had to offer, signed up right away. Now the description that we were given explained to us that we would be embarking on a difficult, but doable hike. While some of the girls were a bit worried about their slight fear of heights or the fact that aside from walking to restaurants or frozen yogurt, we haven’t had much physical activity since arriving in Cape Town, no one was too concerned with the day that we had planned. Well we were wrong, very wrong.

The “hike” started off just like any other. We walked a good 45 minutes up a dirt path surrounded by trees and rocks that seemed so much cooler than the rest simply due to the fact that we were in Africa. At the first break, we were a bit sweaty and had to catch our breaths, but nothing out of the ordinary. We were doing all right. As we got higher and higher up the mountain, the dirt started to turn into rock. And more rock. And more rock. Before we had the chance to take a look around and absorb our surroundings, we found ourselves stuck on a narrow pathway of rocks between two larger bases. This is when it hit me. This was no hike. This was a climb. A climb in which if I took one wrong move or stepped on one loose rock, would be ended abruptly, along with my life. Although inside a part of me was dying to pause and take a picture of this breathtaking view, another part of me was dying to continue moving without even taking note of the view that could result in my death. Yes, I know this all sounds so dramatic as I am sitting here typing completely alive and well, but I am telling you it does not sound so silly hundreds of meters above sea level with little to hold onto. After we got through the first “tricky part” as out guide would call it, things only go harder. There were parts in which we were literally mountain climbing, as we had to wedge our bodies in between two large rock structures and shimmy our way up. Despite my mild fear of heights, I loved every minute of this “hike” as I felt the adrenaline rushing through my body.

At the front of the group, we left no time for talking or taking a breath as we went full speed to the top and pushed ourselves to finish. In my opinion this is the best way to get a great workout. If you know me at all, you know that I hate running in any form. Only when a soccer ball is put out in front of me will you see me go at “full speed,” and even then, you might not be so lucky. But when on a hike, you are using so many different parts of your body to reach the top. And despite the pools of sweat collecting about your shirt or the fact that at some points you cannot feel your legs beneath you, it barely feels like a work out as you are surrounded by some of the most beautiful sights you will ever see. After over three and a half hours of working our way up the mountain, he finally made it up to the beacon, where I was first to touch the pole at the very top. Yes, I will admit that I let my slightly competitive side get the best of me at the end when a boy was trying to lead the pack…but regardless, we all made it. At the top we enjoyed our packed lunches and whatever view we could find passed the cloud that we found ourselves in.

Of course the hike down was far less exciting as we did not have the extra push to make it to the top and to be quite honest, were losing more and more steam by the minute as the amount of time on foot built up. The final paths were filled with perhaps even better sights than the way up the mountain, as we traversed through a meadow in between two large sets of rocks. However, we soon lost interest in our surroundings as our attention turned to our budding blisters, cramping stomachs, and for one unlucky traveler, a broken shoe.

No this hike was not what we signed up for, not at all. For some, it had turned into their worst nightmare and took all they had to face their fears and not turn around. For others, like me, it was a wonderful surprise and only convinced us even more to get out there onto the mountains as much as possible. Either way, almost everyone finished the day feeling accomplished and extremely self-satisfied, whether or not they had worked to overcome their greatest fear or had simply had a great workout. I for one liked it so much that I plan on doing another hike up Lion’s Head next week at sunset and even possibly getting paid to help out the travel company as our guide offered me.

Wine tasting at the first vineyard

Biking along to the second vineyard

Just hanging with the zebras per usual

Another picture of the zebras

A picture of the garden where we stopped for lunch

Wedding picture of Molly and me under the gazebo

Caitlin and me near the flower garden

A Taste of…Dirt

This past Monday a group of us signed up for cycling through the vineyards of Stellenbosch, South Africa’s most popular winelands. I was very excited to see the picturesque winelands, as well as enjoy my first glass of wine (here in South Africa I am of the legal drinking age). When we first mounted our bikes, a lot of the girls were struggling getting a feel for the roads and getting used to riding on two wheels. I, on the other hand, felt quite comfortable on the bike and was riding around aimlessly while my friends became more confident. Let me tell you that this did not last long. About five minutes into our ride, when we were still on the flat surface with no wine in our body, I became cocky enough to ride with one hand while taking pictures with the other. Just as I turned to my friend and started to say, “Wow, I’m pretty good at this one handed thing don’t you…” I accidentally took hold of the front wheel brakes and flipped straight over my handlebars. While I survived the fall with only a few scraps, my confidence had been completely shattered. Never in my life had I felt less athletic. At the same time, I could not help but die in laughter as I though about how pathetic my fall really was. A number of the girls stopped in concern, but those who have really gotten to know me joined in my laughter as they said that if it were anyone else, they would worry but my obnoxious personality only added to the humor of the situation. Needless to say I took a much more cautious approach as we finished our ride to the first winery. Upon arrival, we were greeted by a man standing next to a barrel with five different bottles of wine. He taught us about the five kinds of wine that we were going to try and then gave us a glass of each. We were all careful to take a large sip of water in between each taste because let’s face it, if I was falling off of the bike before we had drank God only knows what would happen after a few glasses.

Once we had finished at the first winery we continued on with our journey through the vineyards. Before reaching the second destination, we were able to make a stop at a park where a couple of cheetahs were looked after. Because we were in a bit of a rush no one got to actually touch the animals, but we were able to get pretty close to a cheetah being taken care of. At the second vineyard, we were seated in a fancy room where we were once again served five different glasses of wine. This time, we were pleased as we got to try a sparkling wine that was actually quite delicious. After having a few glasses of wine, we were served lunch to go hand in hand with our drinks. We were able to stay a bit longer at this vineyard because it had a beautiful garden of which we took full advantage by taking pictures and “frolicking” around looking like complete morons. Yup, no where that we have been so far have we looked like your typical locals so we have been sure to make the most of it.

            Our third and final stop was the brandy factory, the place I was least looking forward to. At least when smelling wine you can sense some sort of fruit sensation. But when I took a whiff of the brandy put before us, I wasn’t sure whether or not I should use it to remove the chipped toenail polish that I have been looking at for weeks or if I should apply some to the cut that had developed from my earlier fall. In any event, I took a try because that was what the day, and this semester, was all about. Completely unsurprising, I could barely stand the taste, as the experience is exactly what I would have expected if I were to drink either of the two substances used in the previously mentioned activities. Nonetheless, it was a cool experience getting to see where the brandy was made and getting to try something that I never have before (and probably never will again).

Cheetahs were not the only animals that we got to see along our day’s ride. We also were fortunate to see a farm filled with ostriches, cows, and zebras. Yes zebras, just hanging out on the side of the road. That for me, might have been the highlight of the day because not only have I been waiting for the chance to see this wild animal, but it was also so unexpected as I almost missed them, mistaking them for more horses as I rode by. All in all it was a great day of trying and seeing new things, and I even had a nice little battle wound to go with my free bottle of wine.

The Pictures Keep Coming

A view of Clifton Beach

Another of Clifton

Clifton from above on the road

One of the pools at Sibs's house

Two of Sibs's 8 or so cars

Just the other pool at Moore's End

The path that leads to Sibs's flower garden

Part of the flower garden at Moore's end

Just relaxing on our professor's hammock

Welcome to Moore's End

In my last post I ended with saying that Sibs had invited us for a day at her villa in Stellenbosch. Right now I would like to start off by apologizing to Sibs and her husband because the word villa simply does not do her home justice. We were picked up by Al this morning and were about 45 minutes into our trip, when I was shocked as the van stopped in front of an ivy-covered gate that bore the words “Moore’s End” on the front. No way could this be the right place, I thought, as Al punched in the code to our professor’s estate. Yes I said it, estate. Apparently Sibs is the owner of a vast amount of land that consists of guest cottages, a protea (national South African flower) garden, tennis courts, not one but two pools, and oh yes, her home itself. The 7 of us got out of the van with our jaws hanging low in utter awe as we surveyed the property. Because she was running late at the store trying to get us breakfast, we first saw Sibs as she drove up her long driveway in a bright red BMW convertible, literally taking a scene straight from a movie. She greeted us with a friendly hug and took us for a little tour of her beautiful house. Once finished marveling at all that her home had to offer, we went straight for the pool. For the next hour or so we spent our time splashing around, soaking in the sun, and indulging ourselves in the various snacks that Sibs had provided for us.

During our breakfast, Sibs gave us a brief overview of South Africa and what she experienced growing up during the apartheid. I had always known more or less what the apartheid was, but I was amazed to hear how different it really was from the country that I now see today. The way that people were categorized as White, Black, Coloured, or Asian from birth and then restricted in almost every aspect of life based on these labels was fascinating to me. Perhaps the most appalling statistic that Sibs shared with us was the fact that property was split up in a way that gave Whites 87% of the land and leaving only 13% for the non-Whites. Now that number only got worse when she told us that the non-Whites outnumbered the Whites by 4 times their population. Finding out more about her personal story was also quite interesting as she was a woman of colour living during this time. We actually came to learn that Sibs’s family lived in a neighborhood designated for Whites and was eventually forced by the government to pack up and move out, leaving the selling negotiations and details to a higher power. It was amazing to hear first hand how the apartheid affected her life and how much as changed for her since it has been uplifted. In fact, upon her return to South Africa in the mid-nineties Sibs was surprised to find that the University of Stellenbosch would accept her application and hire her as the first coloured female professor at the university.

As a side note I would like to add that her daughter now resides in Los Angeles, dated Pau Gasol of the LA Lakers for a little over a year, and has been featured in episodes of CSI. Another side note, when she lived in the United States, Sibs had a home in Middletown, Connecticut, not too far from my house as her husband taught at Wesleyan and she taught at Trinity. Small world, eh? All of this information in just one afternoon, I cannot wait to hear what else Sibs has to say about both her own story as well as the story of South Africa.

The afternoon ended with a wonderful lunch in town, where we were once again allowed to choose anything on the menu without having to pay. I won’t say much about how delicious my meal was or how great the company was, because like the beach, it gets a bit repetitive seeing as I have had so many great meals so far. But for those of you out there worried about my access to food, no worries, I am in far better hands than my mother’s back home when it comes to what I am offered to eat.

More of Moore, Please?

So if I told you that I had found a class that was not only interesting in content, but actually enjoyable enough that I looked forward to going each week, would you believe me? Not a chance. While I have great interest in many of the classes that I have taken at Trinity, I wouldn’t exactly say that I get up each day excited to learn (sorry Mom, Dad, any teachers out there reading this). Classes have just become a routine part of what I do everyday, simple as that. However, I have finally found a class that has broken this mold and has all of the non-Trinity students in my program turning green with jealousy. This past Wednesday evening, we were introduced to Dr. Sibs Moore, our new professor. Sibs is a woman who lived in South Africa during the apartheid, had to move out to America where she taught at Trinity, and now lives back in South Africa where she teaches at the University of Stellenbosch. At our first meeting she explained to us what our class was going to consist of. We were going to meet every week in our apartments and discuss our weekly readings for 45 minutes. I know what most of you are thinking…this sounds pretty much like any class back in the states, what’s the big deal? Keep reading. Following our discussion, Sibs will be taking us to a different 4-5 star restaurant of our choice every week. At the restaurant we will be treated to free food and free drinks of our choosing. Not too bad, huh?

On Wednesday night we had our first outing as a class. Sibs brought us to a nearby place called Hussar’s Grill, which was listed in our tour guide as one of Cape Town’s finest eateries. Knowing the meal was free, I decided to venture out of my comfort zone and get a meal that I was not sure whether or not I would like. I ended up getting an ostrich fillet with wild berry sauce and roasted baby potatoes. Because I have not had meat other than chicken or turkey in so long, I was pretty anxious to see what my reaction would be. I loved it. It was easily the best meal that I have had in Africa and even got me to try a bit of my friend’s steak and another’s lamb (neither of which I would ever do in the states). Now I am not anticipating becoming a full-blown carnivore, but I will admit that I might be making some minor adjustments to my diet. So after an extremely expensive and delicious meal, I realized how great this class was going to be to have every week. What college kid doesn’t jump as having free food, let alone wonderful food, any chance they get.

            Now I titled this post “More of Moore, Please” because that is exactly what I have been asking for, ever since we left Hussar’s Grill. Apparently there is a God out there somewhere because my wish was granted today when Sibs texted us inviting the group to her villa in Stellenbosch for “a leisurely swim and afternoon lunch.” She arranged for her driver, Al, to pick us up tomorrow at 10:00 so that we did not have to pay for transportation. Once again the rest of the students in our program are steaming with jealousy, as we had to nix our beach plans in exchange for this little arrangement with our professor. Like I said, I never thought that I would want more of a teacher or of a class, but right about now that seems to be all I can hope for. 

More Pictures!

Some of the boys at the township

Some of the boys and my friend Grace

Me hanging out with some of the kids

Some of the girls getting ready for dinner

What Lies Beyond the City Border

Yesterday I was reminded of what had sparked my initial interest in studying abroad in South Africa. I have found that it becomes easy to get caught up in all of the beauty and glamour of Cape Town and forget about what goes on past the city borders. This past week I have gone to exquisite beaches, hiked up extraordinary mountains, and have had the pleasure of attending various gourmet restaurants. During all of this excitement I will admit, the concept that I was in a third world country was somewhat lost in translation. However, on a trip that I took yesterday my feet were brought back to ground level as I got to see a part of Africa that is not necessarily promoted in the average travel book. Here at the University of Cape Town there is an organization called SHAWCO that has a partnership with the townships and allows UCT students the opportunity to go in and work with the children once per week throughout the semester. After a brief presentation to all of the students studying abroad, the SHAWCO staff brought any students interested to one of the three townships involved in the program.

When we dismounted the bus, we were no longer in the area that we had recently become familiar with. Even though we were a mere twenty minutes out of town, our surroundings took on a completely new look. Tiny broken down shacks lined the dirt filled roads, raggedy clothes were strung on clothing lines from wall to wall, and the Merecedes and Audis so often seen in downtown Cape Town were replaced with beat up cars or no cars at all. Although I was a bit apprehensive getting off the bus and walking through the gate of the rundown school, my nerves rushed away the second we reached the building and were bombarded with smiling children filled with joy because we were coming to see them. As we walked from class to class children shouted hello, posed for pictures, and even asked for our signature as well as our place of origin. We spent an hour of our time interacting with the children and learning about their lives both in and out of the school system. I made several bets with the 6^th grade boys on whether or not I could beat them in a 1v1 game of soccer. I tried to tell them that I am three times their age and play at the collegiate level but they would not budge, resulting in a pinky promise for a match the first time I return. The girls in the class were amazed by the color and texture of my hair, as they couldn’t understand how it got so light and why it dried so straight. A few of them asked me if they could buy it from me, but much to their disappointment I was unwilling to pull a Demi Moore and buzz it all off.

One thing that I found particularly odd, as well as quite funny, was the children’s fascination with Asians. Whenever someone of Asian descent walked into the class all of the children would shout and point. One boy even yelled, “Look at the Asian!! Teach us karate!” as he did various chops and spins like the karate kid. Perhaps the children had never seen an Asian face to face and were only exposed to them through the movies and video games that present a very limited side of the Asian culture. At any rate, it was pretty funny to watch how uncomfortable the Asian student got as the children barraged her with questions and somewhat politically incorrect assumptions. Once we left the township I was hooked. I soon realized that the organizers of SHAWCO knew exactly what they were doing by bringing us on an hour tour. This second you step off the bus you fall in love with the kids and the program. It is inevitable that you will use your time to be a part of this group and work towards developing a relationship with the children of the township. I plan on going at least once per week on an afternoon, but I need to decide the age of the children that I am going to work with. Any suggestions? I love how cute the little ones are, but I will admit that I enjoy joking around with the older children that give you a little more attitude. Being a person who has always had a bit of sass ever since I was little (just ask my mother if she hasn’t already bored you with stories), I feel as though I can appreciate the work of a good wise guy.

I find it somewhat funny that all of this time I have professed my interest in helping those in need and changing the life of another during my stay in Africa, when really it seems as though I am going to be the one who takes the most out of this experience. Sure I might help the kids develop in the game of soccer or teach them how to improve their English grammar, but it is me who will be growing as a person because of this relationship. These children are going to allow me to see the world from a different, far less fortunate perspective. Even today seeing the excitement they got from our arrival taught me that there is more to life than all of the glitz and the glamour that we have become accustomed to and quite frankly, taken for granted. Of course it is easy for me to recognize this fact a short while after I have visited the township and seen it first hand. It is also easy to say all of this in a blog or to my friends, but I am hoping that after four months of being integrated and involved with these children and their lifestyle, that I can see the world from a different perspective in a lasting way, even if the change is only ever so slight.