Cape Town's transformation during the Southern autumn has left the Southern Suburbs covered in red, orange and yellow leaves. The temperatures do not fall below 55, but the wind and (light) rain can cause a chill. Beautiful crisp and clear days continue to impress -- in fact, my clearest day in Cape Town permitted me to see the Drakenstein Mountains without any haze or fog across the Cape Flats from the UCT Upper Campus. The summer wildfire season or general smog always obscured part of the Drakenstein, but the winter northwesterly winds brilliantly clear the air.
The Southern Hemisphere, in general, offers a cleaner environment and moderate temperatures. The relatively smaller population down here (just about 10% of the global total) produces less garbage and carbon emissions than our (wealthier and more numerous) neighbours in the North. Since weather patterns generally move west to east (and not north to south), very little Northern Hemisphere pollution reaches the South. Also, oceans cover the vast majority of the Southern world, leaving a calmer climate with fewer temperature extremes.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Responding to the Body and Soul
I regret the lull in blog activity during the past few weeks. Again, catch-up will be necessary to explain the adventures of my Garden Route weekend road trip. The trip set me back and caused a rough week of adjustment in Cape Town -- my computer's hard drive stopped working and I injured my left hand and lower back. I spent most of last week taking care of the body and sorting out my computer. My hand and fingers became very swollen, but the swelling subsided with ice and Advil. I still have a bruise on the hand, but the pain no longer impacts the area. I'm also relieved that my lower back no longer aches when I lift an item, open a window or sneeze.
Finally, I rented a computer for the remainder of my time in South Africa. I will deal with the repair and Lenovo customer service when I return stateside in July. The laptop rental arrived just in time to get me through the final stretch of essays before my exams at the end of the month!
Finally, I rented a computer for the remainder of my time in South Africa. I will deal with the repair and Lenovo customer service when I return stateside in July. The laptop rental arrived just in time to get me through the final stretch of essays before my exams at the end of the month!
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Further Gastronomic Experiences
Tuesday proved another epic day of eating and seeing more of the Southern Suburbs. I mentioned Ida Cooper's programme in my previous post, but I must elaborate further to offer context to Tuesday's exciting activities.
Emory and several other American universities arrange for Ida Cooper and Associates to book our accommodations in Cape Town and fetch us from the airport. I began corresponding with Ida six months ago about my housing preferences for this semester (of course, I could not be more pleased with my apartment). I benefited from learning all about Ida's programme from Danny and other Emory study abroad alumni.
Before classes began at UCT, Ida hosted all 50 (or so) semester study abroad students at her home for a full meal and meet n' greet in February. Ida and her team take sick students to her family doctor, track down landlords (one student's mattress was infected by bedbugs), provide tourist programming and manage our registration at UCT. I could not imagine a study abroad programme without this support network!
Most importantly, Ida takes all her students out to high tea. I met Ida and her friend Isabella for tea yesterday at the Gardener's Cottage Restaurant and Coffee Shop in the Montebello Design Centre. I had planned to go with my roommates -- Rachel and Kim -- for tea, but it proved too difficult to find a mutually agreeable time for the three of us. I went ahead and scheduled my own tea. I sat down to a delicious buttered croissant stuffed with scrambled eggs, cream cheese and smoked salmon slices. Delicious! I sipped roobios tea and devoured my meal.
Afternoon tea with Ida also includes dessert, and I selected an incredible crepe filled with ice cream topped with caramel sauce and toasted almonds, served with fresh strawberries, plums and banana slices. I highly recommend combining these wonderful sweets into a masterpiece. It did not take me more than a few minutes to finish off the crepe, and we were off to pick up Ida's granddaughter at an afternoon drama activity.
We fetched Ida's granddaughter (a sophomore in high school) in Rondebosch and delivered her to a friend's house in Claremont. By this time, afternoon traffic clogged the streets and we moved slowly. I enjoyed listening to the conversation about Cape Town safety, especially security on the trains. Ida dropped me back at the Lodge shortly after 5 p.m.
I was out again within 30 minutes for a lecture on campus focusing on the National Prosecuting Authority's (NPA) decision to drop charges about ANC President Jacob Zuma. (The NPA released its decision while I was on holiday in Botswana, and I even asked the passport agent at the OR Tambo International Airport in Johannesburg for the news when I returned to South Africa.) Last night's lecturer, who teaches at the nearby University of the Western Cape (a primarily coloured institution), presented a very detailed and thorough legal explanation of the NPA's decision. Personally, I would have preferred an open conversation about the national elections (today is Election Day, a public holiday here), but the lecture was certainly more stimulating than my four-times-a-week course on South African Politics!
I raced from the UCT Upper Campus to the Hussar Grill on Main Road in Rondebosch for Lanre's birthday dinner. The Hussar came with strong (rather, epic) recommendation from Sarah (who has waited patiently for proper treatment in this blog). The Hussar Grill is much like Raleigh's Angus Barn, a fantastic steakhouse with excellent service. The catch is that a 14 oz. fillet costs no more than $15.00. I ordered a very conservative steak roll sandwich (remember, I had just eaten a magnificent spread during afternoon tea and was not particularly hungry). Kim ordered a kudu fillet, Deborah a sirloin, Mike a fillet mignon (called the carpetbagger) -- the others ordered lamb and more flesh (naturally). Lanre, the birthday boy, ordered flesh cooked in chocolate sauce. I do believe we will return for another meal (maybe my birthday?) and I will come with an empty stomach.
After a busy afternoon and evening of eating (and one political speaker), I retired to The Lodge to read about famine in Zimbabwe. No classes today on account of the national elections, but I am working an essay for submission tomorrow as well as making reservations for accommodations and activities for the weekend road trip to the Garden Route.
Emory and several other American universities arrange for Ida Cooper and Associates to book our accommodations in Cape Town and fetch us from the airport. I began corresponding with Ida six months ago about my housing preferences for this semester (of course, I could not be more pleased with my apartment). I benefited from learning all about Ida's programme from Danny and other Emory study abroad alumni.
Before classes began at UCT, Ida hosted all 50 (or so) semester study abroad students at her home for a full meal and meet n' greet in February. Ida and her team take sick students to her family doctor, track down landlords (one student's mattress was infected by bedbugs), provide tourist programming and manage our registration at UCT. I could not imagine a study abroad programme without this support network!
Most importantly, Ida takes all her students out to high tea. I met Ida and her friend Isabella for tea yesterday at the Gardener's Cottage Restaurant and Coffee Shop in the Montebello Design Centre. I had planned to go with my roommates -- Rachel and Kim -- for tea, but it proved too difficult to find a mutually agreeable time for the three of us. I went ahead and scheduled my own tea. I sat down to a delicious buttered croissant stuffed with scrambled eggs, cream cheese and smoked salmon slices. Delicious! I sipped roobios tea and devoured my meal.
Afternoon tea with Ida also includes dessert, and I selected an incredible crepe filled with ice cream topped with caramel sauce and toasted almonds, served with fresh strawberries, plums and banana slices. I highly recommend combining these wonderful sweets into a masterpiece. It did not take me more than a few minutes to finish off the crepe, and we were off to pick up Ida's granddaughter at an afternoon drama activity.
We fetched Ida's granddaughter (a sophomore in high school) in Rondebosch and delivered her to a friend's house in Claremont. By this time, afternoon traffic clogged the streets and we moved slowly. I enjoyed listening to the conversation about Cape Town safety, especially security on the trains. Ida dropped me back at the Lodge shortly after 5 p.m.
I was out again within 30 minutes for a lecture on campus focusing on the National Prosecuting Authority's (NPA) decision to drop charges about ANC President Jacob Zuma. (The NPA released its decision while I was on holiday in Botswana, and I even asked the passport agent at the OR Tambo International Airport in Johannesburg for the news when I returned to South Africa.) Last night's lecturer, who teaches at the nearby University of the Western Cape (a primarily coloured institution), presented a very detailed and thorough legal explanation of the NPA's decision. Personally, I would have preferred an open conversation about the national elections (today is Election Day, a public holiday here), but the lecture was certainly more stimulating than my four-times-a-week course on South African Politics!
I raced from the UCT Upper Campus to the Hussar Grill on Main Road in Rondebosch for Lanre's birthday dinner. The Hussar came with strong (rather, epic) recommendation from Sarah (who has waited patiently for proper treatment in this blog). The Hussar Grill is much like Raleigh's Angus Barn, a fantastic steakhouse with excellent service. The catch is that a 14 oz. fillet costs no more than $15.00. I ordered a very conservative steak roll sandwich (remember, I had just eaten a magnificent spread during afternoon tea and was not particularly hungry). Kim ordered a kudu fillet, Deborah a sirloin, Mike a fillet mignon (called the carpetbagger) -- the others ordered lamb and more flesh (naturally). Lanre, the birthday boy, ordered flesh cooked in chocolate sauce. I do believe we will return for another meal (maybe my birthday?) and I will come with an empty stomach.
After a busy afternoon and evening of eating (and one political speaker), I retired to The Lodge to read about famine in Zimbabwe. No classes today on account of the national elections, but I am working an essay for submission tomorrow as well as making reservations for accommodations and activities for the weekend road trip to the Garden Route.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Weekend Road Trip to the Garden Route
I am leaving on Friday for three nights along the Western Cape's Garden Route. Among the exciting attractions, I will have the opportunity to:
- Ride an ostrich
- Explore the Cango Caves
- Take a zip line tour of a tree-top canopy
- Pet a cheetah
- See lemurs in MonkeyLand
- Visit Cape Aghulas, Africa's southern-most point and the spot where the Atlantic and Indian Oceans meet
Gastronomic Experiences in Cape Town
While I continue to slave away at my trip report recounting my ten days in Botswana, Zambia and Zimbabwe, I feel I should provide an update on the readjustment to civilisation, including hot water and a warm bed.
I arrived home in Rondebosch at a decent hour on Monday the 13th, permitting me to buy fresh milk and bread before the stores closed at 22h00 (10 p.m.). After a wonderful sleep, I went back to class at UCT on Tuesday morning. My Feasts and Famine class began our consideration of Zimbabwe's economic meltdown -- entirely appropriate as I had flown out of Zimbabwe just the day before.
The autumn has just arrived in the Southern world -- the leaves are changing colours along the main avenues of Cape Town's Southern Suburbs. It appears the shorts are done for the season too, but they will reappear before I return to the sweltering U.S. in July. Cape Town experiences mild winters, I am told. The main cause for concern is the rain, which will bring grey skies and much gloom to this part of the country until the end of August. I stocked up more Five Roses rooibos tea -- South Africa's national hot drink made from red bushes in the Northern Cape.
For the most part, I've used this week to get to know some acquaintances at UCT better. Reetu, a semester study abroad student from UC-Berkeley, and I had coffee and croissants on Wednesday afternoon at Cocoa Wah Wah, a beloved destination for semester study abroad students in Rondebosch. I invited a South African friend named Kwajo over for dinner just yesterday (Sunday). I prepared matzah ball soup, breadcrumb chicken and fresh broccoli with sliced watermelon for dessert. Kwajo has many Jewish friends at home in Johannesburg and felt comfortable with the soup.
Sunday afternoon before dinner, I shopped at the fancy Pick n Pay supermarket in nearby Newlands and found some wonderful favorites from home: Manischewitz Passover fruit slices (imported from Secaucus, N.J.), Israeli Elite Mikupelet milk chocolate, sliced deli-fresh roast beef, baking parchment paper and red horseradish and matzah. As I missed a seder this year, the horseradish, fruit slices and matzah ball soup provided the basics!
I ate dinner tonight with Elisabeth, a Norwegian student completing her full degree at UCT. We ate at a nice sushi, pasta and pizza restaurant (quite a hybrid!) in Claremont near the Cavendish Mall. Claremont is a 30-minute walk from my apartment in Rondebosch along the Main Road (the M4). [As I side note: wherever I travel, Claremont (sometimes spelled Clairmont) is always a very nice place. I have lived on the desirable Clairmont Campus at Emory, Claremont in Cape Town hosts a trendy shopping mall called Cavendish and Claremont in Oakland, Calif., includes a golf club and banquet halls.]
Elisabeth and I have the exact same class schedule -- all classes and tutorials are the same every day of the week. This came in handy when Elisabeth printed my midterm essay for me after I departed for Botswana.
Technically an "international student" like me, Elisabeth is based at UCT and studies here all semesters of college. Her parents come from Norway and Tanzania, so her mixed heritage provides her with a special vantage point to observe South Africa. She explained how her treatment improves at restaurants or clubs when waiters and waitresses hear her foreign accent. Once they identify her as "international," their attitude completely changes and service usually improves. The Western Cape is home to many people of mixed white and black heritage -- legally classified as "coloureds." They account for more than 50% of the Western Cape's population and their unique English/Afrikaans accent fills the air around the taxis. Nowhere else in the world does coloured culture thrive like in Cape Town.
Coloureds found slightly preferential treatment compared to blacks during Apartheid, leading to continued resentment and bad feelings between the two groups even after the end of the Apartheid system. I have learned that it is not unusual for a black waiter to offer poor service to a coloured table or vice versa. To South Africa's detriment, the Apartheid programme masterfully succeeded at driving a wedge between these two communities.
Several of my friends on Ida Cooper's study abroad programme and I screened 101 Dalmatians at the Charltan House in Mowbry last Friday. After Pongo rescued the puppies from Cruella de Ville's evil plot (with help from the Twilight Bark), we began to plan our upcoming weekend excursion (more in a later post).
The Lodge (my apartment) hosted a UCT professor and several students for dinner on Saturday. We may have an opportunity to take a trip up the West Coast with the professor in the not too distant future.
Finally, we are celebrating Lanre's birthday tomorrow at the Hussar Grill. (Danny and Sarah highly recommend this restaurant, and I look forward to trying the flesh.) Lanre is a friend in the Ida programme from UC-Berkeley.
I'd love to hear what is new with you in the States. Please leave a comment!
I arrived home in Rondebosch at a decent hour on Monday the 13th, permitting me to buy fresh milk and bread before the stores closed at 22h00 (10 p.m.). After a wonderful sleep, I went back to class at UCT on Tuesday morning. My Feasts and Famine class began our consideration of Zimbabwe's economic meltdown -- entirely appropriate as I had flown out of Zimbabwe just the day before.
The autumn has just arrived in the Southern world -- the leaves are changing colours along the main avenues of Cape Town's Southern Suburbs. It appears the shorts are done for the season too, but they will reappear before I return to the sweltering U.S. in July. Cape Town experiences mild winters, I am told. The main cause for concern is the rain, which will bring grey skies and much gloom to this part of the country until the end of August. I stocked up more Five Roses rooibos tea -- South Africa's national hot drink made from red bushes in the Northern Cape.
For the most part, I've used this week to get to know some acquaintances at UCT better. Reetu, a semester study abroad student from UC-Berkeley, and I had coffee and croissants on Wednesday afternoon at Cocoa Wah Wah, a beloved destination for semester study abroad students in Rondebosch. I invited a South African friend named Kwajo over for dinner just yesterday (Sunday). I prepared matzah ball soup, breadcrumb chicken and fresh broccoli with sliced watermelon for dessert. Kwajo has many Jewish friends at home in Johannesburg and felt comfortable with the soup.
Sunday afternoon before dinner, I shopped at the fancy Pick n Pay supermarket in nearby Newlands and found some wonderful favorites from home: Manischewitz Passover fruit slices (imported from Secaucus, N.J.), Israeli Elite Mikupelet milk chocolate, sliced deli-fresh roast beef, baking parchment paper and red horseradish and matzah. As I missed a seder this year, the horseradish, fruit slices and matzah ball soup provided the basics!
I ate dinner tonight with Elisabeth, a Norwegian student completing her full degree at UCT. We ate at a nice sushi, pasta and pizza restaurant (quite a hybrid!) in Claremont near the Cavendish Mall. Claremont is a 30-minute walk from my apartment in Rondebosch along the Main Road (the M4). [As I side note: wherever I travel, Claremont (sometimes spelled Clairmont) is always a very nice place. I have lived on the desirable Clairmont Campus at Emory, Claremont in Cape Town hosts a trendy shopping mall called Cavendish and Claremont in Oakland, Calif., includes a golf club and banquet halls.]
Elisabeth and I have the exact same class schedule -- all classes and tutorials are the same every day of the week. This came in handy when Elisabeth printed my midterm essay for me after I departed for Botswana.
Technically an "international student" like me, Elisabeth is based at UCT and studies here all semesters of college. Her parents come from Norway and Tanzania, so her mixed heritage provides her with a special vantage point to observe South Africa. She explained how her treatment improves at restaurants or clubs when waiters and waitresses hear her foreign accent. Once they identify her as "international," their attitude completely changes and service usually improves. The Western Cape is home to many people of mixed white and black heritage -- legally classified as "coloureds." They account for more than 50% of the Western Cape's population and their unique English/Afrikaans accent fills the air around the taxis. Nowhere else in the world does coloured culture thrive like in Cape Town.
Coloureds found slightly preferential treatment compared to blacks during Apartheid, leading to continued resentment and bad feelings between the two groups even after the end of the Apartheid system. I have learned that it is not unusual for a black waiter to offer poor service to a coloured table or vice versa. To South Africa's detriment, the Apartheid programme masterfully succeeded at driving a wedge between these two communities.
Several of my friends on Ida Cooper's study abroad programme and I screened 101 Dalmatians at the Charltan House in Mowbry last Friday. After Pongo rescued the puppies from Cruella de Ville's evil plot (with help from the Twilight Bark), we began to plan our upcoming weekend excursion (more in a later post).
The Lodge (my apartment) hosted a UCT professor and several students for dinner on Saturday. We may have an opportunity to take a trip up the West Coast with the professor in the not too distant future.
Finally, we are celebrating Lanre's birthday tomorrow at the Hussar Grill. (Danny and Sarah highly recommend this restaurant, and I look forward to trying the flesh.) Lanre is a friend in the Ida programme from UC-Berkeley.
I'd love to hear what is new with you in the States. Please leave a comment!
Friday, April 17, 2009
New Emory Wheel Articles
I returned to the Mother City late Monday evening after nine unforgettable days exploring Botswana, Chobe National Park, the Okavango River Delta, Zambia, Victoria Falls and Zimbabwe. After so many nights in a tent and sleeping bag, it felt great to sleep in a bed again. I continue to unpack and process my trip -- please look for several posts about the trip by the end of the weekend.
In the mean time, I wanted to share two new columns published in the Emory Wheel during the past few weeks.
1. Playing Political Football With (and Losing to) the Dalai Lama
2. As Things Fall Apart in Africa’s Old Breadbasket
Enjoy!
In the mean time, I wanted to share two new columns published in the Emory Wheel during the past few weeks.
1. Playing Political Football With (and Losing to) the Dalai Lama
2. As Things Fall Apart in Africa’s Old Breadbasket
Enjoy!
Saturday, March 28, 2009
T.I.A. Moment #2
Most South African license plates end with a provincial abbreviation for the car's registration. The license plates from Johannesburg, which is located in Gauteng Province, thus end in "GP."
But due to the exceedingly high crime rates in Joburg, many refer to the GP as "Gangsta Paradise."
But due to the exceedingly high crime rates in Joburg, many refer to the GP as "Gangsta Paradise."
Elections and Emigration
South Africa's fourth round of "all race" national elections since the end of apartheid will take place on April 22 -- less than a month from now. Election news dominates the newspapers and television broadcasts, and the daily news cycle reveals a new scandal within the ruling African National Congress (ANC) party by the hour.
I had the opportunity to hear Jacob Zuma, the ANC's candidate for president, speak in the Cape Town township of Khayelitsha in late February. Zuma revealed himself to be a charming figure -- singing a song and performing his trademark dance. But aside from his gimmicks, his candidacy poses real problems for the ANC and the future of South African democracy at large. No other political party can directly challenge the ANC's rule. (The ANC took nearly 70 per cent of the vote in 2005.) The ANC holds enough seats (a two-thirds majority) in the national parliament to amend the Constitution without the say of the opposition. Zuma's own allegations of rape and corruption do not assuage concerns.
The Democratic Alliance (DA), the main opposition party with broad based support from whites and coloureds, frequently takes to comparing ANC rule of South Africa to Robert Mugabe's 29 year (and counting) control of Zimbabwe. The DA intends for the comparison to frighten voters, but most South Africans dismiss the allegation as a simple scare tactic in the heart of an election campaign.
When I talk to a white South African, I am constantly asked where I come from in the States. Massive white emigration, a fact of life in post-apartheid South Africa, leaves middle-aged and retired whites in South Africa and their children and grandchildren scattered around the world. The whites I speak to simply want to know if their family members or friends live near me. The friendly Jewish Studies Librarian is flying to Australia for Pesach to have seder with her daughter. The proper Rhodesian lady I met at the mall speaks to her daughter daily in St. Louis. Everyone knows South Africans living in the U.S., the UK, Australia, New Zealand or Israel. South Africa's Jewish population alone has fallen from a high of 120,000 in 1970 to 70,000 today. And the consequent rise in Australia's Jewish population nearly matches South Africa's decline.
White South Africans are voting with their feet -- and they do not see a future here. Even though white South Africans give up a tremendously comfortable life (large homes, domestic labour, cheap cost of living, strong communities and generations of family roots) to begin afresh overseas, they feel that the opportunity abroad is worth the risk. South African law makes transferring money abroad nearly impossible, so the whites surrender vast sums of assets to emigrate. Of course, the global recession has prompted a return of some South Africans from overseas, but the general out-migration trend seems unlikely to end.
Even the white students my age at UCT speak of their imminent departures after graduation to the UK or other destinations in the English-speaking world. Students feel guilty about abandoning their parents and grandparents here, but many parents themselves encourage their children to leave -- especially students from the Johannesburg area.
I had the opportunity to hear Jacob Zuma, the ANC's candidate for president, speak in the Cape Town township of Khayelitsha in late February. Zuma revealed himself to be a charming figure -- singing a song and performing his trademark dance. But aside from his gimmicks, his candidacy poses real problems for the ANC and the future of South African democracy at large. No other political party can directly challenge the ANC's rule. (The ANC took nearly 70 per cent of the vote in 2005.) The ANC holds enough seats (a two-thirds majority) in the national parliament to amend the Constitution without the say of the opposition. Zuma's own allegations of rape and corruption do not assuage concerns.
The Democratic Alliance (DA), the main opposition party with broad based support from whites and coloureds, frequently takes to comparing ANC rule of South Africa to Robert Mugabe's 29 year (and counting) control of Zimbabwe. The DA intends for the comparison to frighten voters, but most South Africans dismiss the allegation as a simple scare tactic in the heart of an election campaign.
When I talk to a white South African, I am constantly asked where I come from in the States. Massive white emigration, a fact of life in post-apartheid South Africa, leaves middle-aged and retired whites in South Africa and their children and grandchildren scattered around the world. The whites I speak to simply want to know if their family members or friends live near me. The friendly Jewish Studies Librarian is flying to Australia for Pesach to have seder with her daughter. The proper Rhodesian lady I met at the mall speaks to her daughter daily in St. Louis. Everyone knows South Africans living in the U.S., the UK, Australia, New Zealand or Israel. South Africa's Jewish population alone has fallen from a high of 120,000 in 1970 to 70,000 today. And the consequent rise in Australia's Jewish population nearly matches South Africa's decline.
White South Africans are voting with their feet -- and they do not see a future here. Even though white South Africans give up a tremendously comfortable life (large homes, domestic labour, cheap cost of living, strong communities and generations of family roots) to begin afresh overseas, they feel that the opportunity abroad is worth the risk. South African law makes transferring money abroad nearly impossible, so the whites surrender vast sums of assets to emigrate. Of course, the global recession has prompted a return of some South Africans from overseas, but the general out-migration trend seems unlikely to end.
Even the white students my age at UCT speak of their imminent departures after graduation to the UK or other destinations in the English-speaking world. Students feel guilty about abandoning their parents and grandparents here, but many parents themselves encourage their children to leave -- especially students from the Johannesburg area.
The Rhythms of Life in Cape Town
Each morning, I pass UCT's Baxter Theatre Center en route to the Jammie Shuttle bus stop at Tugwell Hall. The Baxter Theatre hosts visiting primary school group
s on a daily basis, constantly reminding me of the diversity of people who live in Cape Town. I see little Malay children with their teachers dressed in headscarves walking single-file from their bus into the theatre. Or Indian children, coloured children, East Asian children, Jewish children and more. The diversity of field trips taken to the Baxter Theatre each week represents the spectrum of South African society -- especially in such a cosmopolitan province as the Western Cape. The province is now home to some 4.8 million, making it neither South Africa's most populated or least populated province.
I feel a sense of disconnect in Cape Town and the Western Cape from events happening in the rest of the country. Hundreds of miles of desert and semi-arid land separate Cape Town from the Highveld, home to the economic and political hubs of Johannesburg and Pretoria. Most Capetonians express perfect content to remain out of the national circle; they have wine vineyards to visit, mountains to climb, live jazz music to enjoy and unspoiled beaches on which to eat a picnic. Why think about the rampant motor vehicle theft, the endless sprawl, the pollution, the traffic and the growing insecurity about the future that defines Johannesburg today? Capetonians do not envy those problems.
But Cape Town is not without its fair share of problems. The summer months just passed brought extensive wildfire damage due to both natural causes and arson. Unfortunately, a surprising source of wildfire arson in the Western Cape includes the firefighters themselves. The firefighter pay structure pays firefighters based on the number of hours worked. Emergency fire conditions permit firefighters many hours of lucrative overtime pay, tempting firefighters to start their own fires in order to earn more pay when work is slow. What would the honest fire station Dalmatian think?
s on a daily basis, constantly reminding me of the diversity of people who live in Cape Town. I see little Malay children with their teachers dressed in headscarves walking single-file from their bus into the theatre. Or Indian children, coloured children, East Asian children, Jewish children and more. The diversity of field trips taken to the Baxter Theatre each week represents the spectrum of South African society -- especially in such a cosmopolitan province as the Western Cape. The province is now home to some 4.8 million, making it neither South Africa's most populated or least populated province.I feel a sense of disconnect in Cape Town and the Western Cape from events happening in the rest of the country. Hundreds of miles of desert and semi-arid land separate Cape Town from the Highveld, home to the economic and political hubs of Johannesburg and Pretoria. Most Capetonians express perfect content to remain out of the national circle; they have wine vineyards to visit, mountains to climb, live jazz music to enjoy and unspoiled beaches on which to eat a picnic. Why think about the rampant motor vehicle theft, the endless sprawl, the pollution, the traffic and the growing insecurity about the future that defines Johannesburg today? Capetonians do not envy those problems.
But Cape Town is not without its fair share of problems. The summer months just passed brought extensive wildfire damage due to both natural causes and arson. Unfortunately, a surprising source of wildfire arson in the Western Cape includes the firefighters themselves. The firefighter pay structure pays firefighters based on the number of hours worked. Emergency fire conditions permit firefighters many hours of lucrative overtime pay, tempting firefighters to start their own fires in order to earn more pay when work is slow. What would the honest fire station Dalmatian think?
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
The Beginner's Tournament
The Township Debate League (TDL) event ran very smoothly and even resembled debate tournaments from back home – namely a lengthy awards ceremony and too much downtime in between rounds. I suppose debate tournaments share characteristics all over the globe. My learners from Thandokhulu High School even won a round at the Sunday beginner’s tournament. They will describe the weekend experience to the rest of the team at Thursday’s training session.
I realised that TDL and its sponsors reimburse the learners for their public transport costs en route to and from the tournament, as well as provide a sandwich, juice and fruit for lunch. Without this generous assistance, the learners simply would not be able to compete. (Don’t worry: the volunteer adjudicators also got lunch.)
The structure of a debate round consists of two teams of five learners – one takes a proposition (“for”) side and the other argues the opposition (“against”) side. The speakers alternative, and each speaker must present different elements of the team’s overall position. The winning team is chosen as the sum of all its efforts – not based on an individual speaker.
After a few rounds, the quality of debate drastically improved. The learners were speaking for their full time allotment (and not just 45 seconds), engaging each other and using better examples and clearer words. With barely six hours of formal training during the past four weeks, the students remarkably demonstrated how a little training and investment goes a long way to improving confidence, speaking abilities and logical reasoning. I shared in the palpable excitement that lit up the otherwise worn and gray tournament venue.
While the other volunteers and I waited for our bus to fetch us, the tournament organizer read aloud the additional comments recorded on the learner feedback surveys. Overwhelmingly, the learners thanked the volunteers “for being so nice to us.” As the organizer asked, why wouldn’t we be kind to the students? Common decency may not be so common in the lives of the students. The surveys revealed that the debaters enjoyed themselves very much – and wish they could attend a tournament every weekend. One survey even said, “I want to be perfect at debate just like the adjudicators!”
The surveys also made us laugh, especially the comment, “The food was very good, but I’d like another pear.” Or, “The adjudicators were staring at us too much and it made me nervous.” The students put so much passion and energy into everything they do, and it continues to inspire me every week.
I realised that TDL and its sponsors reimburse the learners for their public transport costs en route to and from the tournament, as well as provide a sandwich, juice and fruit for lunch. Without this generous assistance, the learners simply would not be able to compete. (Don’t worry: the volunteer adjudicators also got lunch.)
The structure of a debate round consists of two teams of five learners – one takes a proposition (“for”) side and the other argues the opposition (“against”) side. The speakers alternative, and each speaker must present different elements of the team’s overall position. The winning team is chosen as the sum of all its efforts – not based on an individual speaker.
After a few rounds, the quality of debate drastically improved. The learners were speaking for their full time allotment (and not just 45 seconds), engaging each other and using better examples and clearer words. With barely six hours of formal training during the past four weeks, the students remarkably demonstrated how a little training and investment goes a long way to improving confidence, speaking abilities and logical reasoning. I shared in the palpable excitement that lit up the otherwise worn and gray tournament venue.
While the other volunteers and I waited for our bus to fetch us, the tournament organizer read aloud the additional comments recorded on the learner feedback surveys. Overwhelmingly, the learners thanked the volunteers “for being so nice to us.” As the organizer asked, why wouldn’t we be kind to the students? Common decency may not be so common in the lives of the students. The surveys revealed that the debaters enjoyed themselves very much – and wish they could attend a tournament every weekend. One survey even said, “I want to be perfect at debate just like the adjudicators!”
The surveys also made us laugh, especially the comment, “The food was very good, but I’d like another pear.” Or, “The adjudicators were staring at us too much and it made me nervous.” The students put so much passion and energy into everything they do, and it continues to inspire me every week.
Monday, March 23, 2009
At Home in the Kaplan Centre Library
I visited the Jewish Studies Library at the UCT Kaplan Centre on Upper Campus this afternoon. I am writing a paper on South African Jewish identity both before and after the 1994 transition, so I headed to this quaint and comfortable library halfway around the world. The Kaplan Centre also houses the kosher food canteen on campus -- the same venue where I first ate the deeply unsatisfying South African hamentashen two weeks ago.
Now in the library, I found a helpful and friendly librarian writing a book on South African Yiddish Theatre who spent several years studying at Columbia/JTS in New York. I browsed the generous collection of volumes -- about a dozen fully stocked rows -- and spotted some magnificent finds (for my paper, and for pleasure). Would you believe that a book exists on the Jewish community of Zambia/N. Rhodesia? Sure enough, a title called "Zion in Africa: The Jews of Zambia" caught my eye. And the personal account of a South African Jew's aliyah to Israel during the apartheid era in Let Me Create a Paradise also struck an interest.
I saw so many familiar titles and book covers -- from my personal library in Raleigh and elsewhere -- on Israel and the American Jewish community in particular. But the library's hidden treasure (at least for me) remains the volumes dedicated to little known Jewish communities that few American Jews ever dreamed existed. Only exceedingly resourceful European Jews arranged immigration to such far away lands as Northern Rhodesia, German South West Africa and Angola -- but enough families populated the capital cities of those colonies (from roughly 1900 to the 1950s) to build synagogues, dedicate Jewish cemeteries and arrange for kosher slaughter.
The tale of African Jewry makes the millions who sailed to New York sound ordinary and trite! Lusaka, Zambia, was no Lower East Side.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
The Feedback Post
I hope that my blog can serve as a dialogue in addition to this one-way direction of updates. Are you out there in cyberspace and enjoying this? Please leave comments!
Quick Updates
Happy autumn wishes from South Africa!
1. The Emory Wheel has resumed publishing after the spring break vacation. My latest article, "Serving the Students, Literally," was published on Friday.
2. I am spending my entire Sunday judging the beginner's tournament at the Township Debate League. I won't be able to judge my own group of learners from Thandokhulu High School due to glaring conflicts of interest, but I do hope to observe them in action.
3. Kim and Rachel are joining the other Princeton students for a field research trip to the Eastern Cape Province from Tuesday-Thursday, leaving me all alone in Rondebosch for a few days. The Princeton students work on an independent task force related to their public policy program at the Woodrow Wilson School.
4. Rachel carved yellow watermelon for us on Friday night! Yellow watermelon is a new tropical delicacy for me -- and I highly recommend it.
1. The Emory Wheel has resumed publishing after the spring break vacation. My latest article, "Serving the Students, Literally," was published on Friday.
2. I am spending my entire Sunday judging the beginner's tournament at the Township Debate League. I won't be able to judge my own group of learners from Thandokhulu High School due to glaring conflicts of interest, but I do hope to observe them in action.
3. Kim and Rachel are joining the other Princeton students for a field research trip to the Eastern Cape Province from Tuesday-Thursday, leaving me all alone in Rondebosch for a few days. The Princeton students work on an independent task force related to their public policy program at the Woodrow Wilson School.
4. Rachel carved yellow watermelon for us on Friday night! Yellow watermelon is a new tropical delicacy for me -- and I highly recommend it.
A Day at Camps Bay
I journeyed to Camps Bay with Mike and Kim (two of many Princeton friends) this afternoon for a few hours of attempted study on the shores of the South Atlantic. Camps Bay is an exclusive beach town 30 minutes from my apartment in Rondebosch. We took two public taxis, amounting to R12 for the entire fare (approximately $1.20). In Africa, large mini-buses with sliding doors that seat 16 or more passengers make up the base of the public transport sector. Some have five rows of seating with a small aisle or fold-able chair on the side. The mini-buses function with a driver (always a good sign) and a shouter who proudly proclaims the destination of the mini-bus. From my living room, I hear the mini-buses passing by on Rondebosch Main Road all day. The shouters on board the south-bound mini-buses scream, "Wyneburg," and the north-bound mini-buses proclaim, "Cape Town!" Once on board, you pass your fare to the shouter who counts out your change while shouting to passers-by on the street.
The shouters have a tough job. They seek to keep the mini-bus full of customers for the entire length of the route. An empty mini-bus makes no revenue. A mini-bus may leave Cape Town full, but passengers exit at various points along the route by yelling, "Thank you, driver." The shouters aggressively recruit people to take their mini-buses. I was once walking along the sidewalk in the opposite direction of the adjacent lane of traffic. Even though I was walking away from the mini-bus, a shouter tried to convince me I really intended to go to Wyneburg.
Important etiquette governs mini-bus traffic: count out your fare before boarding and watch your pockets. And prepare to be squished. The shouter will fit as many customers into the mini-bus as possible with little regard to your comfort. Additionally, the structural integrity of the mini-bus will vary. I sat on the back row of a mini-bus just this afternoon -- and the row of seats were not fastened to the bottom of the van. At every intersection -- either stopping or accelerating -- we would bounce like a rollercoaster. Remember, TIA. This. Is. Africa.
For today's beach trip, we took a mini-bus from Rondebosch to the central mini-bus depot in Cape Town. We transferred to the second mini-bus of the day bound for Camps Bay. Unfortunately, the ocean water along Cape Town's beaches is freezing. The Antarctic sea melt keeps the water frigid year-round. But the warm air temperatures allowed for a pleasant day on the sand and the ocean provided cool -- and brief -- relief to hot feet and ankles.
Camps Bay itself is nestled below the highway between the western face of Ta
ble Mountain and the Atlantic Ocean. The front of Lion's Head -- which I climbed during the last full moon -- marks the north end of Camps Bay and the Twelve Apostles Mountain Range runs along the east and south coast, enclosing Camps Bay entirely between mountains and rolling hills and the chilly shores of the Atlantic. My universe (Rondebosch and UCT) is directly across the mountains from Camps Bay! Not far at all. Clifton and Sea Point are other prime beachfront suburbs that ring the coast and attract thousands of European retirees/pensioners for the mild weather and beautiful views.
I read a few chapters about the Bengal famine of 1943 for my Economies of Feasts and Famine class while noting a few observations:
1. My friend Mike is Chinese. I obviously knew Mike was Chinese before today. But his heritage is important because Mike would not be able to swim at Camps Bay with me during the apartheid regime. Under apartheid racial classification, Mike would be called as a "coloured" and would have to swim somewhere else.
2. I noticed that the family with a dog behind us barked quite frequently. I started to watch the dog and quickly deduced that the dog only barked at black beachgoers. That's right. The owners had to restrain their dog from running up and molesting passing black people. Either the dog was trained to bark at blacks, or he sees blacks so infrequently at home that he mistakes them for danger.
South Africa's troubled and complex history can never be escaped -- not even during a Saturday afternoon at Camps Bay. Needless to say, Camps Bay was classified as a white's-only area during the apartheid era. A dizzying system of pass laws permitted black or coloured labourers (usually from townships or informal settlements) to visit Camps Bay during the day in order to run the shops, clean the homes and maintain the yards of local residents (the same pass laws applied to Rondebosch where I live). Many such labourers relied (and still rely) on the mini-bus public transport routes that we took ourselves.
After a few hours on the beach, we found a brilliant and famous ice cream parlor recommended by many other students (and adults!) called Sinful Ice-cream Emporium. I ordered two scoops of "Very Yummy!" and "Aero" ice cream -- a combination of dark chocolate and a chocolate mousse/malt milkshake for R16 (approximately $1.60). The ice cream lived up to its name -- and with the Pope currently on the African continent, I think everyone could use a little more sin in their ice cream. Mike, Kim and I quietly inhaled our ice cream before taking the mini-buses back to Rondebosch.
While driving down Sea Point's Main Road, I spotted "NEW YORK BAGEL." My eyes grew big with excitement. I must remember to go back and try the bagels.
The shouters have a tough job. They seek to keep the mini-bus full of customers for the entire length of the route. An empty mini-bus makes no revenue. A mini-bus may leave Cape Town full, but passengers exit at various points along the route by yelling, "Thank you, driver." The shouters aggressively recruit people to take their mini-buses. I was once walking along the sidewalk in the opposite direction of the adjacent lane of traffic. Even though I was walking away from the mini-bus, a shouter tried to convince me I really intended to go to Wyneburg.
Important etiquette governs mini-bus traffic: count out your fare before boarding and watch your pockets. And prepare to be squished. The shouter will fit as many customers into the mini-bus as possible with little regard to your comfort. Additionally, the structural integrity of the mini-bus will vary. I sat on the back row of a mini-bus just this afternoon -- and the row of seats were not fastened to the bottom of the van. At every intersection -- either stopping or accelerating -- we would bounce like a rollercoaster. Remember, TIA. This. Is. Africa.
For today's beach trip, we took a mini-bus from Rondebosch to the central mini-bus depot in Cape Town. We transferred to the second mini-bus of the day bound for Camps Bay. Unfortunately, the ocean water along Cape Town's beaches is freezing. The Antarctic sea melt keeps the water frigid year-round. But the warm air temperatures allowed for a pleasant day on the sand and the ocean provided cool -- and brief -- relief to hot feet and ankles.
Camps Bay itself is nestled below the highway between the western face of Ta
ble Mountain and the Atlantic Ocean. The front of Lion's Head -- which I climbed during the last full moon -- marks the north end of Camps Bay and the Twelve Apostles Mountain Range runs along the east and south coast, enclosing Camps Bay entirely between mountains and rolling hills and the chilly shores of the Atlantic. My universe (Rondebosch and UCT) is directly across the mountains from Camps Bay! Not far at all. Clifton and Sea Point are other prime beachfront suburbs that ring the coast and attract thousands of European retirees/pensioners for the mild weather and beautiful views.I read a few chapters about the Bengal famine of 1943 for my Economies of Feasts and Famine class while noting a few observations:
1. My friend Mike is Chinese. I obviously knew Mike was Chinese before today. But his heritage is important because Mike would not be able to swim at Camps Bay with me during the apartheid regime. Under apartheid racial classification, Mike would be called as a "coloured" and would have to swim somewhere else.
2. I noticed that the family with a dog behind us barked quite frequently. I started to watch the dog and quickly deduced that the dog only barked at black beachgoers. That's right. The owners had to restrain their dog from running up and molesting passing black people. Either the dog was trained to bark at blacks, or he sees blacks so infrequently at home that he mistakes them for danger.
South Africa's troubled and complex history can never be escaped -- not even during a Saturday afternoon at Camps Bay. Needless to say, Camps Bay was classified as a white's-only area during the apartheid era. A dizzying system of pass laws permitted black or coloured labourers (usually from townships or informal settlements) to visit Camps Bay during the day in order to run the shops, clean the homes and maintain the yards of local residents (the same pass laws applied to Rondebosch where I live). Many such labourers relied (and still rely) on the mini-bus public transport routes that we took ourselves.
After a few hours on the beach, we found a brilliant and famous ice cream parlor recommended by many other students (and adults!) called Sinful Ice-cream Emporium. I ordered two scoops of "Very Yummy!" and "Aero" ice cream -- a combination of dark chocolate and a chocolate mousse/malt milkshake for R16 (approximately $1.60). The ice cream lived up to its name -- and with the Pope currently on the African continent, I think everyone could use a little more sin in their ice cream. Mike, Kim and I quietly inhaled our ice cream before taking the mini-buses back to Rondebosch.
While driving down Sea Point's Main Road, I spotted "NEW YORK BAGEL." My eyes grew big with excitement. I must remember to go back and try the bagels.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Hamentashen Mission: Success
Four trays of light brown and crispy apricot-filled hamentashen came out of my kitchen in Rondebosch this afternoon! Picture evidence of the day's baking festivities will soon follow, so do not panic. I prepared the dough yesterday and added the vital secret ingredient, wrapped it in plastic wrap and let it sit overnight in the refrigerator. I knew things were on the right track when the consistency and smell of the raw dough seemed to match how we made the pastries at my grandmother's. I borrowed a rolling pin from the kids at 26 Grotto and commenced baking. It was so nice to spend two hours this afternoon rolling, kneading, flouring, cutting, pinching and filling the hamentashen.
The natural light from the open shudders filled the room and this kitchen and apartment thousands of miles away from the States felt like home.
Speaking of food, Kim and I try to cook together on most nights when we're both home. It is so nice not to eat alone and much easier to prepare a second portion of whatever I am eating.
The perishable ingredients in South Africa are so much fresher than the States: milk, cheese, produce and vegetables taste and smell better here. I was told to appreciate the food by a new friend at a Passover seder last year at my friend Amy's home in Roswell. The friend, who emigrated from South Africa in the early 1990s, misses the freshness of the food, especially the dairy. He told me, "The food is so fresh, your farts will smell better!" I think he's on to something.
South Africa proudly produces so much food that it exports to the rest of the continent -- wheat, dairy, beef, poultry, pork and springbok. The "Iowa" of South Africa is the Free State (formerly the Orange Free State) -- a rural province in the center of the country with a long Afrikaner tradition. Before the South African Anglo-Boer War a century ago (the word "boer" means farmer), the Orange Free State and the Transvaal (home to Johannesburg and its gold mines) constituted the two independent Boer/Afrikaner republics. Many Afrikaners consider themselves Africa's only white tribe and use their 300-year bloodline to the African continent as proof. Primarily of Dutch stock with heavy French and German infusion, the Afrikaners speak their own language (described to me as 17th century Dutch) and -- unlike Anglo-South Africans -- largely cut their ties to the European continent generations ago.
Several thousand Afrikaner farmers produce the food that 45 million South Africans (and 500 American semester study abroad students at UCT) consume -- not unlike Zimbabwe until 2001. Land ownership and redistribution is perhaps the most contentious (and less spoken about) political question in South Africa today. The ruling African National Congress (ANC) has long promised previously disadvantaged people (non-whites) access to subsistence farmland, but the government has taken no official action on the question since coming to power in 1994.
The moral of this post: the hamentashen came out great, and the milk tastes good. Remember, happy cows make more milk (and cheese).
The natural light from the open shudders filled the room and this kitchen and apartment thousands of miles away from the States felt like home.
Speaking of food, Kim and I try to cook together on most nights when we're both home. It is so nice not to eat alone and much easier to prepare a second portion of whatever I am eating.
The perishable ingredients in South Africa are so much fresher than the States: milk, cheese, produce and vegetables taste and smell better here. I was told to appreciate the food by a new friend at a Passover seder last year at my friend Amy's home in Roswell. The friend, who emigrated from South Africa in the early 1990s, misses the freshness of the food, especially the dairy. He told me, "The food is so fresh, your farts will smell better!" I think he's on to something.
South Africa proudly produces so much food that it exports to the rest of the continent -- wheat, dairy, beef, poultry, pork and springbok. The "Iowa" of South Africa is the Free State (formerly the Orange Free State) -- a rural province in the center of the country with a long Afrikaner tradition. Before the South African Anglo-Boer War a century ago (the word "boer" means farmer), the Orange Free State and the Transvaal (home to Johannesburg and its gold mines) constituted the two independent Boer/Afrikaner republics. Many Afrikaners consider themselves Africa's only white tribe and use their 300-year bloodline to the African continent as proof. Primarily of Dutch stock with heavy French and German infusion, the Afrikaners speak their own language (described to me as 17th century Dutch) and -- unlike Anglo-South Africans -- largely cut their ties to the European continent generations ago.
Several thousand Afrikaner farmers produce the food that 45 million South Africans (and 500 American semester study abroad students at UCT) consume -- not unlike Zimbabwe until 2001. Land ownership and redistribution is perhaps the most contentious (and less spoken about) political question in South Africa today. The ruling African National Congress (ANC) has long promised previously disadvantaged people (non-whites) access to subsistence farmland, but the government has taken no official action on the question since coming to power in 1994.
The moral of this post: the hamentashen came out great, and the milk tastes good. Remember, happy cows make more milk (and cheese).
Exotic game, and other musings!
We celebrated a birthday on Friday at Mama Africa Restaurant on Long Street. Yours truly tried crocodile kabobs and ostrich meat. The verdict:
1. Crocodile really does taste a lot like chicken. It is a white meat with similar texture to most poultry, but it tastes a bit tougher. Nothing that special, but I'm glad I tried it.
2. Ostrich fillet is really quite delicious. It strongly resembles beef -- dark, well seasoned and tender. I recommend it if you ever have the opportunity.
_______________________
Do you realize how hard it is to calculate large group restaurant bills with 30 people? I wonder if anyone has devised a sure-proof way to make sure everyone pays their share.
_______________________
Many commodities in South Africa are purchased on a pre-paid basis: electricity, cell phone minutes and Internet credits immediately come to mind. While I have not been stuck without electricity when the counter runs out, it is always something to track.
1. Crocodile really does taste a lot like chicken. It is a white meat with similar texture to most poultry, but it tastes a bit tougher. Nothing that special, but I'm glad I tried it.
2. Ostrich fillet is really quite delicious. It strongly resembles beef -- dark, well seasoned and tender. I recommend it if you ever have the opportunity.
_______________________
Do you realize how hard it is to calculate large group restaurant bills with 30 people? I wonder if anyone has devised a sure-proof way to make sure everyone pays their share.
_______________________
Many commodities in South Africa are purchased on a pre-paid basis: electricity, cell phone minutes and Internet credits immediately come to mind. While I have not been stuck without electricity when the counter runs out, it is always something to track.
Fall Break is near!
Many of my friends back home are returning to school from spring break tomorrow. Down here in the SoHem, the weather is already cooling down for fall! I expect a few more hot days (30 or above), but today is a perfect 28 and tomorrow 22 and rain. We're hoping to get to the beach next weekend, so I hope it stays warm.
My fall break will take me on what promises to be an incredible African safari experience. Early on the morning of Saturday, 4 April, I will fly to Johannesburg and board an overland truck to Botswana. I will take in the rustic beauty of the Kalahari Desert -- for a LONG drive across the Tropic of Capricorn. After a few days of driving, we will reach the mystic Okavango River Delta -- an oasis of greenery and elephants deep in the Botswana desert. We will paddle down the Okavango on canoe and watch the animal tracks and noises. After two nights of camping, which overlaps the first night of Pesach, we will set out for Victoria Falls, a natural wonder of the world. After crossing into Zambia, we will have two days to explore the Falls, which will swell to full capacity (that's the plan, at least!) as the Zambezi River drains the interior of the continent after the rainy season. The water pours down Victoria in its mad rush to the balmy Indian Ocean at Mozambique.
Returning to Cape Town on Monday, 13 April, we will fly from Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe, to Cape Town via Johannesburg OR Tambo. The brief time spent in Zimbabwe will be very safe -- the Victoria Falls area of Zimbabwe remains tourist-friendly and free of cholera. I will collect anti-malaria prophylaxis and begin taking them before my departure. And I will send my best to Bob Mugabe.
I will try to formulate a way to mark Passover during the trip. I brought a Haggadah from the states. If anyone has ideas or creative suggestions about celebrating Passover in a Botswana river delta, I'm all ears! Hopefully I will not wander the wilderness of the Kalahari Desert for 40 years.
Many of my friends from Ida Cooper's program are joining me, and I could not be more excited. We are printing out lyrics to popular songs, so we can sing them together at night -- and remember more than just the chorus.
My fall break will take me on what promises to be an incredible African safari experience. Early on the morning of Saturday, 4 April, I will fly to Johannesburg and board an overland truck to Botswana. I will take in the rustic beauty of the Kalahari Desert -- for a LONG drive across the Tropic of Capricorn. After a few days of driving, we will reach the mystic Okavango River Delta -- an oasis of greenery and elephants deep in the Botswana desert. We will paddle down the Okavango on canoe and watch the animal tracks and noises. After two nights of camping, which overlaps the first night of Pesach, we will set out for Victoria Falls, a natural wonder of the world. After crossing into Zambia, we will have two days to explore the Falls, which will swell to full capacity (that's the plan, at least!) as the Zambezi River drains the interior of the continent after the rainy season. The water pours down Victoria in its mad rush to the balmy Indian Ocean at Mozambique.
Returning to Cape Town on Monday, 13 April, we will fly from Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe, to Cape Town via Johannesburg OR Tambo. The brief time spent in Zimbabwe will be very safe -- the Victoria Falls area of Zimbabwe remains tourist-friendly and free of cholera. I will collect anti-malaria prophylaxis and begin taking them before my departure. And I will send my best to Bob Mugabe.
I will try to formulate a way to mark Passover during the trip. I brought a Haggadah from the states. If anyone has ideas or creative suggestions about celebrating Passover in a Botswana river delta, I'm all ears! Hopefully I will not wander the wilderness of the Kalahari Desert for 40 years.
Many of my friends from Ida Cooper's program are joining me, and I could not be more excited. We are printing out lyrics to popular songs, so we can sing them together at night -- and remember more than just the chorus.
The "Study" in Study Abroad
I think it is worth posting that I am also a student at the University of Cape Town (UCT). I take three classes a day, Monday through Thursday. Overall, I find that my classes are not as academically rigorous as back home, but I enjoy the lectures and interaction with South African students and faculty. I am taking: (1) Advanced South African Politics, (2) South African Policy and Administration and (3) Economies of Feasts and Famine.
Since these classes are very African-centric, they attract many other study abroad students like me -- all eager to learn about Africa while we're, well, in Africa. I try not to sit with the other Americans and become too estranged from meeting South Africans.
UCT is built into the base of Devil's Peak, boasting a 20-minute straight uphill walk every morning. Like most students, I take the shuttle! The buildings on the Upper Campus are covered in ivy and look quite stately from the outside. The campus exudes an elitist feel -- overlooking the N2 to the East with the airport, power station and townships on the horizon. It is a comfortable campus, and I adjusted very quickly.
Of course, the campus does not provide all the amenities of an American school. The accomodations are older, the library lending period is shorter and the air conditioning isn't the same. But for a South African institution, there is no need to complain.
Since these classes are very African-centric, they attract many other study abroad students like me -- all eager to learn about Africa while we're, well, in Africa. I try not to sit with the other Americans and become too estranged from meeting South Africans.
UCT is built into the base of Devil's Peak, boasting a 20-minute straight uphill walk every morning. Like most students, I take the shuttle! The buildings on the Upper Campus are covered in ivy and look quite stately from the outside. The campus exudes an elitist feel -- overlooking the N2 to the East with the airport, power station and townships on the horizon. It is a comfortable campus, and I adjusted very quickly.
Of course, the campus does not provide all the amenities of an American school. The accomodations are older, the library lending period is shorter and the air conditioning isn't the same. But for a South African institution, there is no need to complain.
A Full Moon in Cape Town
Wednesday night's full moon provided me with the long-awaited opportunity to climb Lion's Head, Cape Town's scenic sunset view. The hike ranges between 45 minutes and an hour, and the trail circles the 2,195-foot peak. With the sun falling lower and lower across the South Atlantic and the moon rising over the Cape Town skyline, the hike attracts hundreds of locals every full moon for the spectacular natural show.
I must preface my discussion by saying that I would never, ever think to hike a mountain on a SCHOOL NIGHT back home. In fact, I would not even hike a mountain on a weekend. The normal daily routine makes it too easy for me to postpone and delay participating in something so exciting. For me, climbing Lion's Head on a Wednesday night represents the very essence of the study abroad experience.
My friends Amelia and Shanna from the Charlton House invited me along on Tuesday and I met them at their 22-person house in Mowbray on Wednesday afternoon. Many of my Emory friends who studied in Cape Town in previous semesters also lived in the Charlton House, so visiting the house draws me closer to them and their experience! Anyway, Amelia's South African friend Nikki picked us up on Main Road in a bright orange Mini, and we piled in for the 30-minute drive to the base of Lion's Head. Nikki is from Johannesburg, so the scenic drive to climbing a scenic mountain provided us the perfect opportunity to deride Johannesburg's ugliness.
We met up with some other hikers who I did not know and embarked for the summit of Lion's Head -- 669 meters above sea level. Compared to my February hike of Devil's Peak, Lion's Head was a piece of cake. The trail started off very wide, but quickly narrowed to a single-file climb. We came to a fork in the trail where some people chose to climb a chain while I selected the detour trail around the chains.
After reaching the summit at 20h00, we pulled out a picnic of fresh fruit, biscuits and treats. The more daring climbers were photographed on the official maker signifying the peak of the mountain. I stayed firmly tethered to the base!
I must try to describe the memorable atmosphere on top of Lion's Head on Wednesday night. Hundreds of strangers came together to enjoy the same hike under the same full moon, so a sense of camaraderie and love of nature persisted. As the last rays of light disappeared over Sea Point across the sea, a brilliant Southern Hemisphere (i.e. SoHem) wind signified the end of the day. In the last minutes of sunlight, I appreciated the view of the city on Table Bay and the more distant beaches of Muizenberg and the sprawling Cape Flats along False Bay miles to the south. A few hours east from False Bay, the African continent reaches its southern-most point at Cape Agulhas -- the official marker between the Atlantic and Indian Oceans, and one degree latitude south of Buenos Aires, Argentina. The nearby Cape Point/Cape of Good Hope mark the most southwestern point of the continent with a visually striking collection of mountains and peninsulas. It was Sir Francis Drake who described the tip of the continent as "the fairest cape in all the world."
The vista of the Southern world -- 8000 miles from home, but a view of the same moon and the same ocean.
We enjoyed the views until 21h30, and began our dissent along moonlit stones. The mountain was aglow in the flashlights (they call them torches here) of hundreds of hikers stumbling over boulders. The cooler air made the dissent very pleasant and enjoyable. Our trail, however, took us to the chains -- not the detour path. I observed how several people held their feet along the grooves in the stones, and I tried my best to get down the 10-foot drop. My climbing companions, as per usual, were a fantastic help and source of inspiration!
We reached the bottom of Lion's Head, and returned to the Mini for the return home. The drive became an epic experience -- the cool breezes blowing from the open windows and sunroof in combination with the moonlit city and the shadows of the imposing mountains. Though the sun will not shine on the mountains until early morning, the mountains are never absent and can always be felt. I must inquire what was in Nikki's CD player, but the music perfectly supplemented the other surroundings and offered a brilliant drive in which -- even for a small sliver of a moment -- everything seemed right in the world.
Nikki dropped off the two Charlton House residents first, and then she passed The Lodge in
Rondebosch. I returned home, and my flate mate Rachel and my friend Mike were busy working on a project. They took a break to prepare an elaborate candle-lit bath for me with a glass of wine and a rose from our kitchen table (see picture to the right!). The bath was a fantastic way to feel even more relaxed after an already-relaxing evening. Thank you, Rachel and Mike!
I must preface my discussion by saying that I would never, ever think to hike a mountain on a SCHOOL NIGHT back home. In fact, I would not even hike a mountain on a weekend. The normal daily routine makes it too easy for me to postpone and delay participating in something so exciting. For me, climbing Lion's Head on a Wednesday night represents the very essence of the study abroad experience.
My friends Amelia and Shanna from the Charlton House invited me along on Tuesday and I met them at their 22-person house in Mowbray on Wednesday afternoon. Many of my Emory friends who studied in Cape Town in previous semesters also lived in the Charlton House, so visiting the house draws me closer to them and their experience! Anyway, Amelia's South African friend Nikki picked us up on Main Road in a bright orange Mini, and we piled in for the 30-minute drive to the base of Lion's Head. Nikki is from Johannesburg, so the scenic drive to climbing a scenic mountain provided us the perfect opportunity to deride Johannesburg's ugliness.
We met up with some other hikers who I did not know and embarked for the summit of Lion's Head -- 669 meters above sea level. Compared to my February hike of Devil's Peak, Lion's Head was a piece of cake. The trail started off very wide, but quickly narrowed to a single-file climb. We came to a fork in the trail where some people chose to climb a chain while I selected the detour trail around the chains.
After reaching the summit at 20h00, we pulled out a picnic of fresh fruit, biscuits and treats. The more daring climbers were photographed on the official maker signifying the peak of the mountain. I stayed firmly tethered to the base!
I must try to describe the memorable atmosphere on top of Lion's Head on Wednesday night. Hundreds of strangers came together to enjoy the same hike under the same full moon, so a sense of camaraderie and love of nature persisted. As the last rays of light disappeared over Sea Point across the sea, a brilliant Southern Hemisphere (i.e. SoHem) wind signified the end of the day. In the last minutes of sunlight, I appreciated the view of the city on Table Bay and the more distant beaches of Muizenberg and the sprawling Cape Flats along False Bay miles to the south. A few hours east from False Bay, the African continent reaches its southern-most point at Cape Agulhas -- the official marker between the Atlantic and Indian Oceans, and one degree latitude south of Buenos Aires, Argentina. The nearby Cape Point/Cape of Good Hope mark the most southwestern point of the continent with a visually striking collection of mountains and peninsulas. It was Sir Francis Drake who described the tip of the continent as "the fairest cape in all the world."
The vista of the Southern world -- 8000 miles from home, but a view of the same moon and the same ocean.
We enjoyed the views until 21h30, and began our dissent along moonlit stones. The mountain was aglow in the flashlights (they call them torches here) of hundreds of hikers stumbling over boulders. The cooler air made the dissent very pleasant and enjoyable. Our trail, however, took us to the chains -- not the detour path. I observed how several people held their feet along the grooves in the stones, and I tried my best to get down the 10-foot drop. My climbing companions, as per usual, were a fantastic help and source of inspiration!
We reached the bottom of Lion's Head, and returned to the Mini for the return home. The drive became an epic experience -- the cool breezes blowing from the open windows and sunroof in combination with the moonlit city and the shadows of the imposing mountains. Though the sun will not shine on the mountains until early morning, the mountains are never absent and can always be felt. I must inquire what was in Nikki's CD player, but the music perfectly supplemented the other surroundings and offered a brilliant drive in which -- even for a small sliver of a moment -- everything seemed right in the world.
Nikki dropped off the two Charlton House residents first, and then she passed The Lodge in
Rondebosch. I returned home, and my flate mate Rachel and my friend Mike were busy working on a project. They took a break to prepare an elaborate candle-lit bath for me with a glass of wine and a rose from our kitchen table (see picture to the right!). The bath was a fantastic way to feel even more relaxed after an already-relaxing evening. Thank you, Rachel and Mike!
"Stand strong against crime?"
When I walked home from teaching my debate learners on Thursday afternoon, I noticed a new political party posting its signs along the street lights on Main Road in Mowbray and Rondebosch. In South Africa, posting political signs on roads serves as the primary means of campaign advertising. Few South Africans regularly watch television, so TV commercials do not penetrate enough households to be worthwhile. The expense of the TV and the electricity to power it restricts the TV market to a minimum of privileged viewers.
Anyway, the fringe Afrikaner Vryheidsfront Plus party (or Freedom Front Plus, in English) blasted the street with the targeted message, "Stand strong against crime!" The FF+ holds only four seats in South Africa's 400-member National Assembly. A tiny voice advocating Afrikaner independence, the FF+ would not normally expect a lot of support from the voters living around the University of Cape Town in Cape Town's English-speaking Southern Suburbs.
And it seems that few residents wanted the FF+ to line their streets with their message -- less than a day after the signs were posted, I walked passed dozens of vandalized and torn FF+ posters. While removing another party's advertising violates South African election law, the vandalized signs indicate the public's sentiment to the FF+.
The FF+ signs that remained on the street posts were largely covered by the Friday morning newspaper headlines. The Cape Town newspapers publish individual headlines from their daily edition on large posters and line the streets with sensationalist, yellow journalism. I find the morning headline posters a brilliant public service! Anyone walking or driving down the street absorbs the majority of the newspaper's content without evening reading an article. I am not sure if this stands as good marketing for the newspaper's circulation department, but it serves the public!
The newspapers do a good job of removing the day-old headlines to prevent the accumulation of litter and garbage.
Anyway, the fringe Afrikaner Vryheidsfront Plus party (or Freedom Front Plus, in English) blasted the street with the targeted message, "Stand strong against crime!" The FF+ holds only four seats in South Africa's 400-member National Assembly. A tiny voice advocating Afrikaner independence, the FF+ would not normally expect a lot of support from the voters living around the University of Cape Town in Cape Town's English-speaking Southern Suburbs.
And it seems that few residents wanted the FF+ to line their streets with their message -- less than a day after the signs were posted, I walked passed dozens of vandalized and torn FF+ posters. While removing another party's advertising violates South African election law, the vandalized signs indicate the public's sentiment to the FF+.
The FF+ signs that remained on the street posts were largely covered by the Friday morning newspaper headlines. The Cape Town newspapers publish individual headlines from their daily edition on large posters and line the streets with sensationalist, yellow journalism. I find the morning headline posters a brilliant public service! Anyone walking or driving down the street absorbs the majority of the newspaper's content without evening reading an article. I am not sure if this stands as good marketing for the newspaper's circulation department, but it serves the public!
The newspapers do a good job of removing the day-old headlines to prevent the accumulation of litter and garbage.
The Audacity of Hope, Senegalese Edition
For anyone curious about the impact of Barack Obama on the African continent's psyche and international outlook, I have a story to share!
Mike, one of my many Princeton friends here, flew to Cape Town on Delta via Dakar, Senegal. The Senegalese authorities conduct a security sweep of the aircraft and spray the aisles with an anti-malarial substance. Mike was chatting with another study abroad student down the aisle when a Senegalese border patrolman thumbed through the seat-back pocket of Mike's chair. The officer immediately found a thumbed copy of Barack Obama's The Audacity of Hope. Shouting as if he uncovered a bomb, the officer inquired, "Who owns this book? Who owns this book?"
Seeing his book held up in the aisle, Mike returned to his seat and asked the officer if there was a problem. The border patrolman said, "This book changed my life. It is very, very special!" With that, he gently placed it back in Mike's seat-back pocket and softly padded the top for good measure.
I enjoyed this story very much -- especially because I was quite leery of flying Delta because of the Dakar stop-over. I guess I did not have much to fear.
Mike, one of my many Princeton friends here, flew to Cape Town on Delta via Dakar, Senegal. The Senegalese authorities conduct a security sweep of the aircraft and spray the aisles with an anti-malarial substance. Mike was chatting with another study abroad student down the aisle when a Senegalese border patrolman thumbed through the seat-back pocket of Mike's chair. The officer immediately found a thumbed copy of Barack Obama's The Audacity of Hope. Shouting as if he uncovered a bomb, the officer inquired, "Who owns this book? Who owns this book?"
Seeing his book held up in the aisle, Mike returned to his seat and asked the officer if there was a problem. The border patrolman said, "This book changed my life. It is very, very special!" With that, he gently placed it back in Mike's seat-back pocket and softly padded the top for good measure.
I enjoyed this story very much -- especially because I was quite leery of flying Delta because of the Dakar stop-over. I guess I did not have much to fear.
Friday, March 13, 2009
New Pictures!
I just uploaded two new photo albums. The first set of pictures -- called Stellenbosch Adventure -- comes from last Saturday afternoon in the Western Cape's winelands less than one hour by train from Cape Town. The second album -- Lion's Head -- is from a full moon hike of Cape Town's scenic Lion's Head peak from Wednesday night. Both albums are listed under the photo albums to the right of the top post. I hope you enjoy!
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Dispatches from Cape Town
Just as my photo albums are listed to the right of this text, I have added my dispatches for the Emory student newspaper just below the photos. The headlines link directly to the article on the Emory Wheel's website. Happy reading!
South African Hamentashen
As a self-described hamentashen maven, I love when Purim rolls around. Preparing the delicate hamentashen with flaky shells and flavourful apricot fillings requires much patience, but promises a worthwhile reward. I have baked hamentashen for years with my grandmother and consider myself something of an expert in the art. In fact, I do not let Purim's once-a-year occurrence dissuade me from making and eating hamentashen year-round. I last prepared a batch in December.
UCT's Kaplan Centre, the building for Jewish life on campus, provided hamentashen to all lunchtime customers today. The hamentashen greatly differed from what I am accustomed to in North America: the pastry dough covered the entire filling! And the fillings themselves were different. It seems that South African Jews, almost entirely of Lithuanian stock, remain more loyal to the Eastern European poppy seed -- or mun -- fillings of the shtetl. I did find a delicious apple and raisin filling, which may inspire me to use that filling in my own baking.
I have my recipe to bake my own hamentashen, which I aim to do this weekend. There are other Jewish students in my immediate study abroad programme, and I'm sure they'd enjoy some too.
A few hours after the hamentashen experience, I ran into my new friend Kwajo, a first year UCT student from Johannesburg. We both volunteer for the Township Debate League (TDL), a network of schools that train debate teams for tournaments between each other. The learners come from impoverished homes (to say the least) and truly inspire me every week. Kwajo and I met at the full day of TDL training (it lasted from 7:45 a.m. to 5 p.m. on a Saturday), and he told me how many Jewish friends he has at home in Joburg. He threw out all the Yiddish words we Americans use in everyday speech: schlep, mensch, shvitz and others. I was very impressed!
Today, I was talking to another friend outside the Leslie Social Science Building, and he walked behind me, put his hand on my shoulder, and said, "Good yom tov."
For those wondering how Kwajo knew I was Jewish, it came up when he asked which foreign countries I have visited. I did not initially list Israel -- there is anti-Semitism in South Africa and feelings toward Israel are not warm. Instead, I told him I have visited the Czech Republic and Poland. After hearing Poland, he asked if I was Jewish. From his Jewish friends at home, he knew that only Jews visit Poland...
Chag Purim Sameach!
UCT's Kaplan Centre, the building for Jewish life on campus, provided hamentashen to all lunchtime customers today. The hamentashen greatly differed from what I am accustomed to in North America: the pastry dough covered the entire filling! And the fillings themselves were different. It seems that South African Jews, almost entirely of Lithuanian stock, remain more loyal to the Eastern European poppy seed -- or mun -- fillings of the shtetl. I did find a delicious apple and raisin filling, which may inspire me to use that filling in my own baking.
I have my recipe to bake my own hamentashen, which I aim to do this weekend. There are other Jewish students in my immediate study abroad programme, and I'm sure they'd enjoy some too.
A few hours after the hamentashen experience, I ran into my new friend Kwajo, a first year UCT student from Johannesburg. We both volunteer for the Township Debate League (TDL), a network of schools that train debate teams for tournaments between each other. The learners come from impoverished homes (to say the least) and truly inspire me every week. Kwajo and I met at the full day of TDL training (it lasted from 7:45 a.m. to 5 p.m. on a Saturday), and he told me how many Jewish friends he has at home in Joburg. He threw out all the Yiddish words we Americans use in everyday speech: schlep, mensch, shvitz and others. I was very impressed!
Today, I was talking to another friend outside the Leslie Social Science Building, and he walked behind me, put his hand on my shoulder, and said, "Good yom tov."
For those wondering how Kwajo knew I was Jewish, it came up when he asked which foreign countries I have visited. I did not initially list Israel -- there is anti-Semitism in South Africa and feelings toward Israel are not warm. Instead, I told him I have visited the Czech Republic and Poland. After hearing Poland, he asked if I was Jewish. From his Jewish friends at home, he knew that only Jews visit Poland...
Chag Purim Sameach!
T.I.A. Moment #1
In the spirit of Leonardo DiCaprio's 2006 film Blood Diamond, I bring you the first of several T.I.A. moments. T.I.A. stands for This. Is. Africa. -- it offers a chance to remember that Cape Town is actually in Africa, and shares some characteristics with life elsewhere on the continent. Of course, I have not yet explored life outside the Western Cape...that will happen soon enough.
During the international student orientation in early February, the UCT orientation leaders raffled off five canisters of pepper spray to students who answered jeopardy-style questions correctly. You would have thought they were giving away wads of cash! The auditorium of 500 students eagerly sought the pepper spray, and it was dispersed in two minutes.
During the international student orientation in early February, the UCT orientation leaders raffled off five canisters of pepper spray to students who answered jeopardy-style questions correctly. You would have thought they were giving away wads of cash! The auditorium of 500 students eagerly sought the pepper spray, and it was dispersed in two minutes.
Photo Albums
Everyone should be able to view my photo albums by clicking on the album titles toward the right of the page under the label "Photo Albums." You will see names like "V&A Waterfront" and "Cape Peninsula Tour." The photos are hosted on facebook, but a facebook account or log-in is not required to access them. Please let know if you're unable to open the albums. Happy viewing!
The Epic Haircut
My weekend began on Friday when I attended a class for fun called War and Society. The lecturer will soon discuss the South African War (i.e. the Anglo-Boer War), and I’ll also sit in for those sessions. Mike and Carolyn – two my many Princeton friends – arrived late because they saw Slumdog Millionaire at 9:15 Friday morning – the film’s first commercial screening in South Africa. I opted to sleep in rather than watch a movie so early.
I walked across the lecture theatre to see Mike after class and he told me he was having lunch with Laura, the president of the University of Cape Town History and Current Affairs society. Deborah, another Princeton friend, and I grabbed chicken samosas and joined Mike and Laura for lunch. We had a great conversation about the nearly 300 American students at UCT, American elections, South African elections, the UCT campus publications and more.
We parted ways by a quarter past two, and I took the UCT student shuttle – called the Jammie Shuttle – to the Cavendish Mall in Claremont (a 5 minute bus ride). The Cavendish Mall consists of four stories of upscale shopping and a large Woolworth’s department store as the anchor. I arrived at the mall to get a desperately needed haircut, and I found a fantastic store called Edge for Men. I put my name on the list for a hair appointment 16h00.
Meanwhile, I went shopping for a gift for Mike’s birthday party that evening. I found a children’s book about animals written in Xhosa, the native language of most blacks residing in the Western Cape. Since Mike is learning Xhosa at UCT, I thought he’d like to test his comprehension with a colourful Xhosa children’s book. The cashier was so kind as to wrap the book in gift-wrap.
My next stop was the Look and Listen music shop. I bought a CD by a South African reggae artist named Lucky Dube. His music provides uplifting and optimistic sentiments for many South Africans. I am enjoying it already.
I walked over to Mr. Price to buy some dish and hand towels just before my appointment. Finally, it was time to get back to Edge for Men for an unforgettable haircutting experience. The associate first asked me what I’d like to drink. I’ve had my hair cut hundreds of times, and no one has ever asked me what I’d like to drink at Supercuts. Not once. I said I’d like to drink some ice water, and the associate produced a lovely glass of chilled ice water.
Before I could take my first sip, I met the stylist and explained what I’d like her to do with my hair. A new associate asked me to follow her for shampooing. After she washed my hair, I returned for the haircut. For me, I really cannot see anything during a haircut because my glasses are off, so I just looked dumbly into space and smiled. She stopped cutting my hair and instructed me to return for rinsing. An associate washed my hair a second time, and massaged my scalp. I have never been so pampered at a salon in my life. After the scalp massage ended, I returned to the chair and sipped my water. The stylist applied hair gel and pronounced the haircut complete.
The total cost: the astonishing equivalent of $13!! I could not even get a cut for $13 stateside, let alone two shampoos, a drink and a scalp massage.
I walked across the lecture theatre to see Mike after class and he told me he was having lunch with Laura, the president of the University of Cape Town History and Current Affairs society. Deborah, another Princeton friend, and I grabbed chicken samosas and joined Mike and Laura for lunch. We had a great conversation about the nearly 300 American students at UCT, American elections, South African elections, the UCT campus publications and more.
We parted ways by a quarter past two, and I took the UCT student shuttle – called the Jammie Shuttle – to the Cavendish Mall in Claremont (a 5 minute bus ride). The Cavendish Mall consists of four stories of upscale shopping and a large Woolworth’s department store as the anchor. I arrived at the mall to get a desperately needed haircut, and I found a fantastic store called Edge for Men. I put my name on the list for a hair appointment 16h00.
Meanwhile, I went shopping for a gift for Mike’s birthday party that evening. I found a children’s book about animals written in Xhosa, the native language of most blacks residing in the Western Cape. Since Mike is learning Xhosa at UCT, I thought he’d like to test his comprehension with a colourful Xhosa children’s book. The cashier was so kind as to wrap the book in gift-wrap.
My next stop was the Look and Listen music shop. I bought a CD by a South African reggae artist named Lucky Dube. His music provides uplifting and optimistic sentiments for many South Africans. I am enjoying it already.
I walked over to Mr. Price to buy some dish and hand towels just before my appointment. Finally, it was time to get back to Edge for Men for an unforgettable haircutting experience. The associate first asked me what I’d like to drink. I’ve had my hair cut hundreds of times, and no one has ever asked me what I’d like to drink at Supercuts. Not once. I said I’d like to drink some ice water, and the associate produced a lovely glass of chilled ice water.
Before I could take my first sip, I met the stylist and explained what I’d like her to do with my hair. A new associate asked me to follow her for shampooing. After she washed my hair, I returned for the haircut. For me, I really cannot see anything during a haircut because my glasses are off, so I just looked dumbly into space and smiled. She stopped cutting my hair and instructed me to return for rinsing. An associate washed my hair a second time, and massaged my scalp. I have never been so pampered at a salon in my life. After the scalp massage ended, I returned to the chair and sipped my water. The stylist applied hair gel and pronounced the haircut complete.
The total cost: the astonishing equivalent of $13!! I could not even get a cut for $13 stateside, let alone two shampoos, a drink and a scalp massage.
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