Saturday, November 24, 2007
Thursday, August 23, 2007
On the Road (the N2, specifically)
My Very First South African Road Trip:
Last weekend in honor of National Women’s Day I went with several friends (actually, eleven of them…Americans only, I’m afraid) on my a spontaneous South African road trip. We took four days and traveled along the Southern coast of the country, along what’s known as the “Garden Route” (essentially a beautiful and agreeable drive through small coastal towns). It was really satisfying driving through the countryside and developing a clear picture of the physical appearance of the landscapes here. Most of our time was spent doing rather typical vacation things, like eating too much and moving really slowly. A few firsts: swam in the Indian Ocean, ate springbok (African antelope—best meat ever) and ostrich (just decent), drove on the left side of the road (okay, well, Ella drove, but I was a decent navigator), and bungee jumped off the highest bungee jump in the world.
The first day we paid for our dirt-cheap-and-boy-was-that-obvious rental (cash only, naturally) and headed for a little coastal town called Wilderness, where we stayed in this idyllic backpackers lodge called the Fairy Knowe. The homestead dated back to the early 1800s, and our perfect room overlooked Wilderness national park. After taking a dip in the icy blue waters of the Indian Ocean, we bonded over a long dinner and then enjoyed the company of the two middle-aged lady bartenders/proprietresses at the Fairy Knowe who kept the bar open for us and helped us celebrate Women’s Day in style. It was all very bohemian and backpacker-esque.
The next day, it was on to Plettenburg Bay, and eventually to the largest bridge in Africa. Despite my deep aversion to heights and general inclination not to jump off of things 216 meters tall, I succumbed to some part of my subconscious that wants to look cool and agreed to go bungee jumping. I don’t know how to explain how ridiculous and un-cool I was the whole time, scared completely stiff. I tried turning around twice and walking back off the bridge, but with some much appreciated moral support I somehow threw myself off the bridge, in what must have been the ugliest jump ever. When you bungee jump, you’re supposed to lock your arms and swan dive off—it looks really cool in the pictures that way. Judging by the pictures of me (I have no real memory of these moments), what I did can best be described as a combination of stepping and falling, rather in the fashion of a falling dead body, I should think. Anyhow, despite my intense fear and pre-conception that I would hate the whole thing, it turns out bungee jumping is actually amazing, and not in some adrenaline rush sort of way, but in an almost poetic and beautiful way. I sort of became unaware of my actual situation and suddenly was conscious only of flying gracefully through the air, of this very new and unique sensation of floating (and it’s odd, but it doesn’t feel jerky in real life, but rather fluid and dream-like). Then it was over and I finally got off that scary bridge and I don’t think I’ll ever do it again but I do recommend it and not just for adrenaline junkies but for everyone.
After jumping, we decided to stay the night in the coastal town of Knysna, a town that was especially physically stunning. Some dinner, another backpackers lodge, etcetera. The next morning we ate a leisurely breakfast at a café overlooking craggy cliffs and a gorgeous blue ocean, but by this time I was more-or-less numb to natural beauty. Perhaps we were all tired of such pretty scenes, or maybe we just had an old fashioned lapse in judgment, but we decided to drive two hours inland to go to the “Ostrich Capital of Africa,” the town of Outshoorn. There were a lot of ostriches. Ostriches, by the way, are (in my opinion) pretty much the ugliest animals ever, and apparently they can kill a person with one kick! Have you ever really looked an ostrich in the eye? I think there’s something sinister going on in their small brains; honestly, something inside of me sensed that every ostrich I saw had it in for me. Given the lack of love between ostriches and myself, I felt very little guilt that night when I tried an ostrich steak for the first time. Now, before dwelling on the macabre, consider that ostrich is a pretty common meat here; the grocer carries ostrich patties instead of turkey burgers. Anyhow, Outshoorn was all about ostriches, and I’m just don’t jive that way, so that whole day was a bit anticlimactic. The nicest part was just driving, windows down, through the mountains of the Western Cape. It was a very Polariod moment (it’s like a Kodak moment, but cooler).
Sunday, our last day, we spent the morning at Cango Caves. They were really big caves. I’m not going to expand on that point much.
Then, we had an epic drive back. Although we were promised that the drive would take no more than three or four hours, it was actually a seven or eight hour drive back. It was gorgeous, just like everything in this country. Tall mountains, bright green valleys dotted with vineyards, and Afrikaner towns dating back to Dutch colonization. My eyes/mind have a really hard time comprehending the ugly evidence of colonization and apartheid juxtaposed against such physical beauty. It’s an odd sensation I don’t know exactly how to describe yet.
Finally, in time to see the most supremely red sunset, we came within view of Cape Town again, Table Mountain rising from the south to welcome us. It felt funny coming home to what is not really my home, but I suppose that’s normal.
So that was, in short, my spontaneous and satisfying very first South African road trip.
Last weekend in honor of National Women’s Day I went with several friends (actually, eleven of them…Americans only, I’m afraid) on my a spontaneous South African road trip. We took four days and traveled along the Southern coast of the country, along what’s known as the “Garden Route” (essentially a beautiful and agreeable drive through small coastal towns). It was really satisfying driving through the countryside and developing a clear picture of the physical appearance of the landscapes here. Most of our time was spent doing rather typical vacation things, like eating too much and moving really slowly. A few firsts: swam in the Indian Ocean, ate springbok (African antelope—best meat ever) and ostrich (just decent), drove on the left side of the road (okay, well, Ella drove, but I was a decent navigator), and bungee jumped off the highest bungee jump in the world.
The first day we paid for our dirt-cheap-and-boy-was-that-obvious rental (cash only, naturally) and headed for a little coastal town called Wilderness, where we stayed in this idyllic backpackers lodge called the Fairy Knowe. The homestead dated back to the early 1800s, and our perfect room overlooked Wilderness national park. After taking a dip in the icy blue waters of the Indian Ocean, we bonded over a long dinner and then enjoyed the company of the two middle-aged lady bartenders/proprietresses at the Fairy Knowe who kept the bar open for us and helped us celebrate Women’s Day in style. It was all very bohemian and backpacker-esque.
The next day, it was on to Plettenburg Bay, and eventually to the largest bridge in Africa. Despite my deep aversion to heights and general inclination not to jump off of things 216 meters tall, I succumbed to some part of my subconscious that wants to look cool and agreed to go bungee jumping. I don’t know how to explain how ridiculous and un-cool I was the whole time, scared completely stiff. I tried turning around twice and walking back off the bridge, but with some much appreciated moral support I somehow threw myself off the bridge, in what must have been the ugliest jump ever. When you bungee jump, you’re supposed to lock your arms and swan dive off—it looks really cool in the pictures that way. Judging by the pictures of me (I have no real memory of these moments), what I did can best be described as a combination of stepping and falling, rather in the fashion of a falling dead body, I should think. Anyhow, despite my intense fear and pre-conception that I would hate the whole thing, it turns out bungee jumping is actually amazing, and not in some adrenaline rush sort of way, but in an almost poetic and beautiful way. I sort of became unaware of my actual situation and suddenly was conscious only of flying gracefully through the air, of this very new and unique sensation of floating (and it’s odd, but it doesn’t feel jerky in real life, but rather fluid and dream-like). Then it was over and I finally got off that scary bridge and I don’t think I’ll ever do it again but I do recommend it and not just for adrenaline junkies but for everyone.
After jumping, we decided to stay the night in the coastal town of Knysna, a town that was especially physically stunning. Some dinner, another backpackers lodge, etcetera. The next morning we ate a leisurely breakfast at a café overlooking craggy cliffs and a gorgeous blue ocean, but by this time I was more-or-less numb to natural beauty. Perhaps we were all tired of such pretty scenes, or maybe we just had an old fashioned lapse in judgment, but we decided to drive two hours inland to go to the “Ostrich Capital of Africa,” the town of Outshoorn. There were a lot of ostriches. Ostriches, by the way, are (in my opinion) pretty much the ugliest animals ever, and apparently they can kill a person with one kick! Have you ever really looked an ostrich in the eye? I think there’s something sinister going on in their small brains; honestly, something inside of me sensed that every ostrich I saw had it in for me. Given the lack of love between ostriches and myself, I felt very little guilt that night when I tried an ostrich steak for the first time. Now, before dwelling on the macabre, consider that ostrich is a pretty common meat here; the grocer carries ostrich patties instead of turkey burgers. Anyhow, Outshoorn was all about ostriches, and I’m just don’t jive that way, so that whole day was a bit anticlimactic. The nicest part was just driving, windows down, through the mountains of the Western Cape. It was a very Polariod moment (it’s like a Kodak moment, but cooler).
Sunday, our last day, we spent the morning at Cango Caves. They were really big caves. I’m not going to expand on that point much.
Then, we had an epic drive back. Although we were promised that the drive would take no more than three or four hours, it was actually a seven or eight hour drive back. It was gorgeous, just like everything in this country. Tall mountains, bright green valleys dotted with vineyards, and Afrikaner towns dating back to Dutch colonization. My eyes/mind have a really hard time comprehending the ugly evidence of colonization and apartheid juxtaposed against such physical beauty. It’s an odd sensation I don’t know exactly how to describe yet.
Finally, in time to see the most supremely red sunset, we came within view of Cape Town again, Table Mountain rising from the south to welcome us. It felt funny coming home to what is not really my home, but I suppose that’s normal.
So that was, in short, my spontaneous and satisfying very first South African road trip.
A Primer
Molweni, all. Ninjani? Hopefully your answer is “sikhona.”
Look, you just learned three words in Xhosa! Unfortunately that’s also about all I know so far.
So, you’re probably all dying to know what I’ve been doing my first month here (and if you’re not, then you should really stop reading here; it’s only going to get more dull).
School:
Let’s see…I’m now into my fourth week as a student at the University of Cape Town. My classes are a bit more difficult that I would prefer; for example, it’s a gorgeous day today and instead of climbing Table Mountain I’m reading a very abstract textbook for Third World Politics. My independent study has been considerably re-directed by my well-intentioned but very opinionated adviser, but I have high hopes that it will still be interesting. My most favorite classes are Xhosa, for reasons that I think obvious, and Contemporary Art History, because, it’s a blast. Campus is beautiful, diverse like crazy, and you can buy a hearty dish of Indian food for under $2. All of the buildings are terribly important looking, old and made of stone with a sort of pseudo-Grecian feel. Devil’s Peak and Table Mountain tower above campus quite dramatically, and the city spreads out below campus, so the view is exceptional. Walking about is overwhelming in a good way; so many people, languages, and everyone dresses really smartly. Americans stick out like the proverbial sore thumb in their sweat pants and north face jackets.
Living:
I am currently a resident in Liesbeeck Gardens, a lovely res hall with the ambiance of a minimum-security prison. To get into the building, you must pass a security guard, swipe your card twice to enter, unlock the door to the flat, and then finally use a separate key to unlock the padlock on the door to my room. It makes me nostalgic for the innocence of Kenyon’s unlocked doors. My very utilitarian flat holds four people: myself; my American flat mate and fast friend Ella; my very aloof and mysterious Zimbabwean flat mate Farai; and my slightly more outgoing (but that’s not saying much) flat mate from Jo’burg, Saido. Both Saido and Farai seemed very unconcerned with my existence all together, but happily that is not the case with other residents in the building. As I am typing I am in the laundry room and have just made a friend, Toko, who is very nice and lives on my floor. She let me use her dryer, which was especially considerate, and she promised to “pop by” my room this week.
Cape Town:
Is cool. Devastatingly pretty. Haven’t explored it enough as campus is about 20 minutes from the center of the city and public transportation is not so hot here.
Okay, this was exhausting. That’s all I can handle for my very first blog entry. Truthfully, I’m not really feeling the vibe of this whole blogging thing (issues with uncertainty of appropriate tone and material, etc.), but hopefully it will grow on me.
Sobonana (that means, I’ll see you again),
Rebecca
Look, you just learned three words in Xhosa! Unfortunately that’s also about all I know so far.
So, you’re probably all dying to know what I’ve been doing my first month here (and if you’re not, then you should really stop reading here; it’s only going to get more dull).
School:
Let’s see…I’m now into my fourth week as a student at the University of Cape Town. My classes are a bit more difficult that I would prefer; for example, it’s a gorgeous day today and instead of climbing Table Mountain I’m reading a very abstract textbook for Third World Politics. My independent study has been considerably re-directed by my well-intentioned but very opinionated adviser, but I have high hopes that it will still be interesting. My most favorite classes are Xhosa, for reasons that I think obvious, and Contemporary Art History, because, it’s a blast. Campus is beautiful, diverse like crazy, and you can buy a hearty dish of Indian food for under $2. All of the buildings are terribly important looking, old and made of stone with a sort of pseudo-Grecian feel. Devil’s Peak and Table Mountain tower above campus quite dramatically, and the city spreads out below campus, so the view is exceptional. Walking about is overwhelming in a good way; so many people, languages, and everyone dresses really smartly. Americans stick out like the proverbial sore thumb in their sweat pants and north face jackets.
Living:
I am currently a resident in Liesbeeck Gardens, a lovely res hall with the ambiance of a minimum-security prison. To get into the building, you must pass a security guard, swipe your card twice to enter, unlock the door to the flat, and then finally use a separate key to unlock the padlock on the door to my room. It makes me nostalgic for the innocence of Kenyon’s unlocked doors. My very utilitarian flat holds four people: myself; my American flat mate and fast friend Ella; my very aloof and mysterious Zimbabwean flat mate Farai; and my slightly more outgoing (but that’s not saying much) flat mate from Jo’burg, Saido. Both Saido and Farai seemed very unconcerned with my existence all together, but happily that is not the case with other residents in the building. As I am typing I am in the laundry room and have just made a friend, Toko, who is very nice and lives on my floor. She let me use her dryer, which was especially considerate, and she promised to “pop by” my room this week.
Cape Town:
Is cool. Devastatingly pretty. Haven’t explored it enough as campus is about 20 minutes from the center of the city and public transportation is not so hot here.
Okay, this was exhausting. That’s all I can handle for my very first blog entry. Truthfully, I’m not really feeling the vibe of this whole blogging thing (issues with uncertainty of appropriate tone and material, etc.), but hopefully it will grow on me.
Sobonana (that means, I’ll see you again),
Rebecca
Thursday, August 16, 2007
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