Road Trippin'

Wow! What a week it’s been. Since I don’t know exactly where to start, I’ll begin with well, the beginning. It all started a couple days before break. I had been planning for two weeks to drive out to Durban and surf along the way. Two days before we were planning to leave, the guy I was going to rent a car from more than doubled the price he originally quoted. I scrambled to find another car, all the while having to research and write two essays in 48 hours. Magically, I turned everything in on time and got the car just in time to leave early Friday afternoon. I hadn’t had much time to plan our trip, so my co-pilot, my good friend Leah, and myself were wingin’ it the whole way. The car rental company gave us a little 4-seater VW city car, a bit of a tin can, but dependable enough to get us to Durban and back (although my heart skipped a few beats along the way). I couldn’t (and still can’t) believe the rental company actually gave me a car, and most of the drive out I would be asking myself “what the fuck am I doing?”

The drive out in fact would be a comedy of errors (and generally poor planning/travelling):

Firstly, I couldn’t figure out how to put the car in reverse until we reached J-Bay, making sure along the way not to pull the car into a tough spot. I actually had to push the car (thank god it was small) out of the rez parking lot as people on the street stared and laughed. We made I to Jeffreys Bay without having to use reverse, where, after pulling into our parking space at the backpacker, we finally had to ask. After a morning surf and a quick breakfast we hit the road again. The drive out to Durban was at once scenic and soothing while also tremendously stressful. The view from the car was mostly stunning, either because of the country’s natural beauty (such as along the Garden Route) or from the rural squalor that we don’t normally get to see in Cape Town (see pics). The drive was stressful for several reasons:

a) I was driving on the left side of the road for the first time.

b) Sections of the road were very foggy and rainy and hard to navigate, especially in the mountains at night (again, poor planning).

c) I had to dodge cows (in the fog – “hey what’s that big black blob up ahead in the middle of the road???”), goats, sheep, sheepherders, monkeys, people, cars, rickshaws, dogs, potholes and hawks eating road kill.

d) We didn’t have a map (“dude, you just take the N2 all the way – it’s a straight shot!” Oh, how we would be wrong).

e) We got lost (see reason d, above) in one of these odd cities along the way that would pop up every 200k. Isolated from the countryside around them, every couple of hours or so we’d pass through these 5-block long cities overflowing with people but the cities themselves had very little housing. After a few traffic lights, we’d be back on the two lane country road. We got lost in one of these cities and thought we found our way until suddenly the road we were on stopped – as in it disappeared into nothingness. Add to the fact that just down the road there was a flaming landfill spewing smoke into the air and you can imagine we were both pretty creeped out.

f) I, the frugal traveler, had neglected to write down an emergency number or check to see if we had a spare.

g) Hey, at least we had an ipod!

Point is, we finally made it to Durban, a sun-soaked, industrial, decaying, dirty, bustling and oddly charming port city in Kwazulu-Natal. Spent a couple days surfing and roasting on the beach (our skin, not food) before heading out to the Drakensberg Mountains, which are about three hours outside of Durban, past these remote villages that, despite my aversion to using the expression T.I.A. (although it is the inspiration for the title of this very blog), had me thinking to myself “fuck… this really is Africa”. See pictures for examples of the beauty, majestic peaks and soft rolling hills etc. of the Drakensberg. After one more night of fine dining and lounging in Durban, I was back on the road to Cape Town. The friend I was originally planning to drive back with had a last minute rowing tournament, so I was left to do the drive solo. It was actually quite pleasant; I drove it all during the day, staying at some interesting backpackers along the way. I spent one night in East London at this beachy, bohemian spot with a decent surf break outside. The next day I stopped in Mossel Bay after a brief surf/taco stop in Jeffreys once again (man that place is heavenly. Since I had a car I surfed tubes, one break down the point from supers, with only two other people out and a solid 3-foot swell. Clearly not the best day at JBay but good god, what a wave! It’s spectacular – consistent, fast, breaks perfectly and is super meaty – orgasmic, really) and stayed at this really eerie backpacker in an abandoned train car. It might’ve been cool if there had been anyone staying there, the train weren’t rusting and falling apart, it weren’t in a seemingly abandoned part of town, there weren’t trains going by every hour and the restaurant hadn’t just burnt down. Needless to say, I didn’t sleep very well that night, but I did catch the SA – England rugby match at a cool seaside restaurant. The next day, to my shock and disbelief, I pulled into rez alive and sane. I sat in my car for a couple minutes to debrief and decompress since later that day I was headed to Earthdance, a trance party/celebration of the earth.

The festival was very cool. There were two stages spinning prog house, dub, break beats and psychedelic trance (obviously the most popular). The vibe was very mellow, no one trippin too hard and the beats had me dancing almost all night (I had to crash eventually - can you blame me?) We’d be up by 7am though and went back to the stage where they were still spinning psychedelic trance (mmmmcht mmmmmcht mmmmcht) and the place was packed with people who I can only imagine had been dancing all night (thanks I’m sure to some shrooms, e, and/or a few cases of red bull). Of course there were the obligatory light shows, trippy blacklight paintings everywhere, booths selling all sorts of stoner/raver/hippie goodies and a diverse array of psychedelic costumes (my favorite were “The Real Estate Agents” who played their set dressed in a chicken costume and the Cat in the Hat outfit). There is photographic evidence of my attendance, but I’m still debating whether they are suitable for all audiences/could get me in trouble.

Well, that was my week – probably the craziest 10 days of my life, and well worth it. Oh, after getting back from Earthdance I went (tried?) to go surfing, started to get hot flashes then went to sleep for 48 hours (I’m sorry body).

C is for Cookie...

As indicated below, I spent this past weekend in the township of Oceanview on the outskirts of Cape Town. I stayed with a family of four - Cookie, the mom, John, the dad and two adorable sons Lincoln and Lester - who were gracious enough to let two American students stay with them for two nights.

A preface before I get into more detail:
I am taking an African Studies course entitled "Thinking Africa Differently" that is making this post particularly difficult to write. At present we're studying travel writing as it concerns Western perceptions of Africa from the pre-colonial era to present day. The genre of travel writing (in which this blog is included) is problematic for many reasons.

One element we've discussed in class and important to this entry, and all my posts for that matter, is to understand that I am writing for an American audience. This means that whether I do it consciously or unconsciously I am including or excluding information, using particular adjectives or descriptors, and positioning myself in relation to the people, places and things I am describing so as to both gain approval from my audience while also keeping you entertained and stimulated. As Americans we have certain perceptions about Africa (as virgin land, natural beauty, wild animals, abject poverty, starving children etc. If you've ever read a National Geographic, it's in your brain somewhere) and my writing is necessarily going to be scrutinized according to that 'checklist' of "This is Africa...". I am not asking that you fundamentally change the way you think about Africa, just that you try to understand where I come from, who I am writing for and how that shapes the style and content of my writing. Now that I've thoroughly confused you or lost you along the way, I present to you my unbiased, unfiltered, objective and definitive account of my weekend in Oceanview:

Oceanview is a coloured community that has grown from the 1960s into a decent sized town. The original residents of Oceanview were coloureds forcibly removed from nearby Simonstown when it was designated a whites only area and many residents have lived there ever since. Most of the homes are formal settlements that the owners have built up over the years into more comfortable abodes. There are of course some informal settlement bordering the township, but the majority of residents live in what seemed to be fairly sturdy homes or flats with basic services.

Upon arrival, we had a brief introductory dinner at Oceanview High School, at which we met our host families. Right off the bat Cookie and I got into a serious conversation about Oceanview (of which I would have many this weekend), its problems and what is being done about them. The biggest problem she identified was the use of "tick", or meth, and the accompanying crime and gang culture within the township's youngest, starting as early as 10 years old. Tick is dirt cheap in Oceanview, cheaper than weed she told me which makes it highly accessible even for children. She also told me there is very little being done to fight it, only noting some of the local Rastafarians (one love) who fight the gangsters that sell tick and peddle weed instead, but noted that some sell tick too.

On a lighter note, the weekend was a long party with Cookie, John and Cookie's brothers and sisters (of which she has ten, over half of which live in Oceanview). Friday night was spent at Cookie's chatting over a bottle of whiskey, sharing knowledge about each other's home cultures. Their house was small but comfortable with people popping in and out at random, just to say hi and greet us. The sense of community was unlike anywhere I've been in the States (or elsewhere for that matter) and made me feel at home immediately. Saturday, after a drive to nearby Fish Hoek to buy fish (go figure), we had an all day Braii (South African barbeque) which consisted of sitting in the sun, napping and watching rugby and cricket over a few beers. The Braii slowly turned into a party with more food and drinks, dominoes and more family and friends (including a Rastafarian who I unfortunately didn't get a chance to talk to).

People were more willing to talk at the party (with the juices flowing and all) and I had a very interesting (and sobering) conversation with a coloured guy who told me he had it better during apartheid. During apartheid he had a job, he told me, whereas now he was jumping from job to job. I couldn't muster the courage to question his reasoning (which is by all means valid) but was nonetheless introduced to a new way about thinking about apartheid. Speaks volumes to the socio-economic leagacies of apartheid. Unfortunately with classwork I haven't had enough time to reflect and explore this any further.

Anyway, at the risk of being short (and there's really just too much to write about in one sitting), the homestay was an unforgettable experience. I have never felt such hospitalty and warmth from people who have to go through so much shit (pardon my xhosa) to live a decent life. I have a few pictures that I will be posting shortly. If you have any pressing questions and want a more personal response, just e-mail me. One love.

Hooray! Pictures!

I've posted Jeffreys Bay pictures - just click the link on the right.

Good, Good, Good, Good (Island Vibe)rations

Monday, August 20, 2007

Well, it’s been a while since I posted anything of substance, so it’s gonna be a long one. Since my pictures are refusing to bare it all on the internet (what prudes) what follows is a brief summary of the J-Bay trip (I have to leave you some incentive to look at the pictures after all) and a brief update – enjoy:

J-Bay I was told is a six to seven hour drive from Cape Town so we figured it would be a good four-day weekend trip, and being poor college students opted for the disgustingly cheap (and surprisingly not disgusting) overnight bus. Little did we know the bus ride would take a full twelve hours, enough time to watch Lindsay Lohan’s Unlucky, Hitch, and The Nutty Professor 3, which I was shocked to learn has nothing to do with a nutty professor!, on the bus television. It was painful and terrifying sitting on the bus knowing that these movies were influencing South African perceptions of American culture, one talking farm animal at a time. Anyway, aside from the movies the ride was mostly painless and we arrived in Jeffreys Bay in the wee hours of the morning.

We stayed at this incredible little backpacker that sits atop a sand dune with a 270 degree view of the beach, a nice little beach break on the doorstep, a full service bar and restaurant all decorated to make it feel like an island oasis – it was heavenly. Surfboards were lying around between people drinking beers, taking naps and reflecting (or maybe just nursing a hangover) over a panoramic view of the ocean. Everything about staying there was mellow - it was called the Island Vibe, after all. People left their clothes and wetsuits lying out all day, no one worried about the thieving ruffians so common to South Africa’s large cities. On top of it all it only cost 70 Rand (about 10 bucks) a night.

The city of Jeffreys Bay is a true surf town and really could be anywhere in southern California. There’s the Billabong village that’s basically a huge surf shopping mall as well as a ton of local shops and shapers. I picked up a board for pennies at a shop that advertised itself as having the largest board selection in Africa (Wise would put it to shame). The town was rather sleepy, I think because it’s winter (even though it was 75 degrees out) but it could just be hung-over from the two weeks of partying for the Billabong Pro. All the restaurants and bars led me to believe that was indeed the case and we just came at the wrong time.

And now a random story: I met this kid out in the water who couldn’t have been more than thirteen years old. He was absolutely thrilled when I told him I was from California, so thrilled in fact that he followed me back to the backpacker and “adopted” me as his “brother from San Francisco”. In between stories about getting surf lessons from Kelly Slater and hanging out with Andy Irons (the kid could talk your booties off - oh, and I didn’t believe a word he said) he’d be introducing me to random people, at the backpacker, mind you, where he didn’t know anyone, as his brother from San Francisco. It was cute for a while but eventually enough was enough and we had to send him back home. I don’t know why I included that. Oh well.

Two days at Jeffreys went by in a flash and we were on our way to Addo Elephant Park. The park was small which made it feel a bit like a glorified zoo, especially driving around in huge safari buses. My favorite part of the game drives was during our night drive when the ranger killed the engine and lights of the truck, allowing us to just sit still and listen to the sounds of the bush at night. I won’t bore you with a description of how fascinating the animals were, especially the water buffalo at night roaming the park in a herd of twenty. You could hear the clunk clunk of the hooves and the heavy nasal breathing of… bored yet? Thought so. Seriously, just wait for the pictures – they’ll do it more justice than I can, and honestly I feel weird about the whole notion of a safari anyway.

To make a fourteen hour story short, the next day we took the bus back to Cape Town.

The end.

Sorry to be so curt, I’m just bitter about having to actually do work. It’s all interesting stuff, but it’s hard not to feel like I’m on vacation.

Dreariness aside, I had a fun weekend. On Friday I went to my first South African Indian restaurant which was fantastic (minus the fact that everyone except myself got sick – all those meals at Naan N’ Curry must have fortified my stomach). Saturday was a rugby day (and let’s be honest, night too). We destroyed our opponents with some beautiful, punishing rugby and then, well, some Castle Lager tall johns (South African tall cans) had their turn with us. It was an odd scene actually – twenty grown men (boys?) standing around a mountain of beer on an empty rugby pitch in the middle of the day wearing matching blue dress shirts singing and yelling (for pictures and an exposé in the worst (best?) of rugby culture, Facebook search “Ikey cubs”, a group should pop up and under the pictures section there should be some gems). Anyway, I recovered at a beautiful seafood dinner on the waterfront only to end up at a party at one of the American houses which was fun, but not terribly exciting and not to be done again. Sunday, as you can imagine, was a day of mind, body and spiritual cleansing. We went to a fabulous lunch at the house of one of our Solmates in the township of Oceanview, which I mentioned in my first post. The food was fantastic and the family members and neighbors were jewels of human beings. It’s always uplifting to see and feel energy, optimism and joy in people who have historically been so marginalized by society and government. I'm looking forward to our homestay in Oceanview next weekend.

Greatest Post. Ever.

Twas a great weekénd as expected. Not a ton of surf, but enough to keep me satisfied for a while. The pictures will really tell a much better story than I can (or maybe I’m just lazy – that’s for you to decide), but unfortunately the internet has not been cooperating and I haven’t been able to post them. I should have them up shortly and will let you know when they are online.

More rugby and the usual post-match ("hey Farva, what's that place with all the weird shit on the walls?") shenanigans on tap (actually in cans or bottles) for the weekend. I also have to start doing school work (can you believe it!!!!).

A note upon rereading the latest post:
*Was this post amazing, or what? I mean, it has all the elements of a great blog entry: a cop-out of telling a story, an excuse for not putting up pictures, a lame, overused movie reference, way too many parentheses, and a homework reference... truly, magnificent stuff! Perhaps some of my best work yet.

Oh, if you needed yet another reason not to read my blog anymore, I installed this really creepy site traffic monitor that tells me the city from where everyone accesses this site, gives me their contact info and displays their (your! HA) mugshot. Okay, the last two aren't true, but I still think it's kind of creepy.*

Dude, I Got So Stellenbosched Last Night...

Tuesday, August 07, 2007

Great weekend and looks like another one to come. Had our first rugby match on Friday night against a Dutch Afrikaans club. We played on a beautiful field sitting above the city bowl, just under Table Mountain with a view of downtown and Table Bay in the background. The match wasn’t particularly well played, but certainly better than any of my games back home. The Cubs remain undefeated, but added a draw to our flawless record. I was pleased to have scored a try in my first South African match – a try in the corner off a grubber from the scrummy that I tapped a few extra yards with my foot and touched down for the score. Afterwards we had a drink-up on the UCT rugby fields while watching the A and B sides (some of the best live rugby I’ve seen). The guys are a lot of fun (as ruggers tend to be) but clearly represent a white elite, primarily of British descent (which explains how they immediately had it out for the Dutch club we played). Last week for instance we had a "practice"(you wanna talk about practice?!?!?!) in the rain for fifteen minutes, followed by beer guzzling and chain smoking with our coaches at the on-campus pub - what a great sport!

Saturday I went to Muizenberg beach to go surfing for the first time here. The surf was junk but it was great to get out in the water. I’m really excited for this weekend though. We’re going to Jeffrey’s Bay for a couple days (for those of you that don’t know, it’s one of the premiere surfing spots in the world!) and then spending a day in Addo Elephant park – all for dirt cheap. I’ll make sure to take a ton of pictures.

Sunday we went to the Stellenbosch wine festival in neighboring Stellenbosch. Stellenbosch (that's a lot of Stellenboschs) is a very cute and very Dutch town (city?) about 45 minutes from Cape Town and reminds me a lot of Napa, probably because of all the vineyards and not much else. Ten dollars got us a full day of wine tasting, bread, cheese, pesto and all the wine-o bullshitting you could handle. I actually learned a thing or two (certainly no more than three) about wine but mostly the day was spent trying all sorts of wines and pretending to know what I was talking about to the wine salesmen, which wasn’t too difficult after enough sampling. Can’t say I feel any different about wine after the festival except that I think I’d probably much prefer a beer festival.

I also added a link to pictures on the sidebar over there -------->

Visitation Hours: Mondays10-11 am

Wednesday, August 01, 2007

Long post today, I have much to cover.

Went to the first rugby practice last night. I’m sore as hell, but alive with all organs intact. I should have expected as much, but man, South Africans are good at rugby. And they’re huge too. I was placed in the under 20 yr. old squad and I’m still one of the smallest five – nothing new for me I suppose. Size aside, the skill of the players is sublime. They keep the ball flowing with offloads and no-looks, precision pops and perfectly spun misses all running at a pace I have never seen back home (apologies for the rugby jargon. I’ll be done in a minute.) Luckily, there are several under 20 teams, of which I made the last. I am proud to officially be a UCT Cub, the pride and joy of UCT under-twenty B-sides (there’s only one) that doubles, or so I am told, as the varsity drinking team… should be a gong show of a semester. I’m happy though that I’m on a squad that more closely approximates my size so that I no longer must fear for my life and because it is also clear I’m at an extreme skill disadvantage. The coaching, thankfully, is superb and I anticipate coming back a much improved rugger.

Now, a subject I’ve been e-mailed about endlessly (not once) by adoring fans of my blog (myself) the world over (my dorm room) - my living situation. I live in a UCT residence hall that we’ve affectionately come to call Oz, after the HBO prison drama. Once I get the pictures up you’ll understand, but for the meantime words will have to do. The dorm is a giant rectangle, six stories high with a concrete ‘yard’ in the middle. This arrangement makes it so that from one corner of the building you can see all the way up and across the dorm. If you watch people walk across the other side of the building during the day the place looks kind of like an ant farm. The manager of the facility is appropriately titled the “warden” (no joke) and on the bulletin boards around the halls we are constantly reminded that there are nightly squatter raids, to ensure we aren’t housing any vagabonds. I’ve never experienced one, nor have I heard from anyone who has, so my guess is that it is mostly scare tactic (as if they needed to frighten us more.) The cleaning crew wears convincing blue jumpsuits and you can often in the middle of the night hear shrieks coming from inside the yard (whether of laughter or the unbearable pain of being shanked in the gut with a sharpened spatula for screwing up the latest package, I don’t know.) Despite its crude appearance and management, I’ve come to really like the place. Well, maybe not really like the place, but every day it starts to feel more and more like home.

It helps that I get along well with my roommates, even if we aren’t best buds. I live with one American from Virginia who is really nice, but runs with a different crowd so I don’t see much of him. My two other flatmates are girls, Tammy from East London, South Africa, and Pamela from Botswana. They are both very sweet, Tammy a little less so than Pamela, but Tammy has an attitude that makes her oddly both fun to be around and teeth grindingly irritating at the same time. Luckily I’ve made it on to her good side by doing a few loads of dishes and cooking every now and again and have thus far escaped Tammy’s wrath. I expect to be in her doghouse shortly however, as I am a notorious fridge and pantry raider and have yet to find a cure that doesn’t involve buying my own food (can you imagine!)

Tammy loves to blast American R&B at odd times of the day (like early in the morning and late at night) and likes to sing along with all her friends. She makes up for it by being a fantastic cook even though she rarely does the dishes (all the while barking at me for not helping out around the flat). Luckily, Pamela is the neutral force between the American males and Tammy and keeps any beef between us to a simmer. For the most part though, we all get along well. Just the other day in fact Tammy and I had a long icebreaking conversation in the kitchen about her many boyfriends of which I’ll spare you the details.

Anyway, they’re fumigating our rooms today which should be fun.